#they are if anyone doesn’t know and cares:
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drunk in love
in which fem!reader gets extra affectionate with spencer when she's drunk and he's just happy to be there
fluff!
warnings/tags: drunk!reader, tooth-rottingly sweet fluff, spencer loves you so bad, short n sweet, that's it
a/n: this is for the person who requested spencer taking care of drunk!reader and they're just being really cute and kissy and i lost your request i'm sorry but i hope you see this!! if you guys like this pls let me know, i have spencer helping drunk!r with a bath locked and loaded and its also so cute oh my god i love him goodnight
“Spence,” you say, voice pretty and airy as a song, pressing butterfly-light kisses with soft lips all over the side of his face.
“What?” he asks fondly, fighting to keep his grip on you secure as you keep trying to fall down and bring him with you. This bar isn’t necessarily a dive, but he’s sure the floor is still sticky and he’s not interested in checking.
“I really love you so much. I love you so much more than anyone else has ever loved anyone before.” It’s the fourth or fifth time you’ve told him you love him so much in ten minutes, but it doesn’t feel any less wonderful to hear. “Say it back!” you pout, settling against his chest.
“You didn’t give me time to say it back,” he explains patiently, looking down at you and brushing hair behind your ear. “I love you so much, too, baby.”
Suddenly you’re too flustered and shy to make eye contact.
“Call me that again.”
Spencer’s brow furrows. His smile flickers wider.
“What? Baby?” You nod into his chest. He smooths your hair. “I call you baby all the time.”
“Because you love me?”
“Because I love you,” he agrees solemnly.
You squeak, covering your face with your hands. Not for the first time tonight, he wonder what exactly was in those drinks Penelope kept ordering for you.
“Kiss?”
He gently grabs your wrists.
“You have to show me that pretty face if you want a kiss.”
Your hands slide down your cheeks and you tilt your head up. Now that your face is on display, pretty and shiny in the low lighting, Spencer ducks down and kisses you sweetly, one hand on the back of your head, the other pulling your wrists down and out of the way. He makes sure to not let it go on for too long. There are still plenty of people around, but more saliently, you are quite drunk.
“Good?” he asks, brushing a thumb over your cheek as he pulls away.
“Can we kiss forever?”
“We can try,” he muses.
“I love you,” you say again, plainly. “I wish there was a word stronger than love. I feel like I’ve said love so much it’s lost all its meaning.”
“Keep saying it,” he encourages. “I like hearing it.”
“Can I tell you a secret?” you whisper. Spencer leans down for you to cup your hand to his ear clandestinely. Sweet vanilla perfume still clings to your warm skin, lingering on your neck, mixing with the smell of fruity cocktails on your breath and making him dizzy. “I think JJ has a crush on you.”
He chuckles, straightening. Grieving the loss of your scent for just a second in the back of his mind—until you’re pressing against him anxiously, and it returns.
“JJ is married, babe. I don’t think so.”
You pout.
“No, but I really think she does! It makes me sad!”
Spencer doesn’t believe it for a second, but he knows hard logic and persuasion aren’t really going to do much for you right now. So he loops an arm around your waist and reigns you in.
“You don’t need to be sad, sweetheart. It doesn’t matter who has a crush on me because I have a crush on you.”
“Just me?” you ask anxiously.
“Just you. You’re the prettiest girl in the world. I have a huge crush on you.”
He realizes his voice has taken on that saccharine quality that Derek would give him shit for, and it’s probably visible in his eyes as he leans close to you, but he doesn’t care at all.
You raise your chin, wordlessly asking for another kiss. He delivers. The fabric of his shirt tugs where you grab onto it, attempting to bring him closer even when he draws away from the kiss. Of course he allows it, narrowly avoiding stepping on your toes as you pull him to you like a dog on a leash.
“Can we go home? I wanna cuddle.”
Oh, yeah. If Derek were present he’d have the most ridiculous, shit-eating grin on his face right now. Luckily he’s not here right now, and even if he were, Spencer would still brush your hair aside and say, absolutely we can go home and cuddle.
“Of course we can. Do you want to say goodbye to everyone?”
“Mm… can we Irish goodbye?”
He chuckles.
“I think you should say thank you to Penelope for buying you all of those ridiculous drinks that are making you so nice.”
You make a face.
“I’m always nice.”
“You’re not always this nice,” he reminds you with a small smile, resting his hands on your waist. You frown.
“In my head I am.”
He kisses your head. It’s impossible not to.
“I know. Come on, let’s say bye. I want to go home too.”
“You think I’m not usually nice?”
“Of course I don’t think that. I think you’re so nice.”
“Oh my god, can we get ice cream?” You gasp, already distracted and pulling him along by the hand as you weave through the sparse crowd.
He smiles to himself, happy to follow your lead as long as you don’t let go.
“We can definitely get ice cream. We can do whatever you want.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds imagine
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THE FATUI’S CUMSLUT
all the male harbingers except Pulcinella
Really it all starts out simple; you were just a simple secretary for the Harbingers who worked directly under Pantalone.
So naturally it starts because of him.
He likes talking to you- not like, actually, loves. You’re the only person who’s actually willing to listen to his constant rambles about his theories of currency and he doesn’t know if it’s out of fear or because you’re actually willing but he still finds comfort in it.
It’s so comforting that honestly, it kinda turns him on…like no one has ever actually sat with him and listened to him with such focus that he’s lining over you, both lovingly and sickingly.
How the stress relief starts…he’s bold.
by bold, meaning you quite literally caught him jerking off to the thought of you as you walked into bring him a few papers to sigh, and he was bold enough to ask you for your help; and of course you oblige!
okay now actually onto the actual smut part;
Pantalone, who is probably the second sweetest out of all of them when he fucks you. As teasing as he is, he makes sure to pleasure you.
Pantalone, who just laughs when you say you want to pleasure him instead, and he’ll tell you that your pleasure is enough to get him off for days.
Pantalone, who sometimes just can’t handle all the stress the others push on him and he’ll come find you, bending you over any near substance and prioritizing his pleasure just for a bit.
Pantalone, who can also just push you against the wall of the castle halls, not caring if anyone sees you. He knows the risk turns you on, and he loves it.
Pantalone, who fucks into you so passionately yet roughly; so obsessed with how your tits bounce he just has to grope them as he fucks you. He might even fuck them too, and let you suck the tip of his cock.
Pantalone, who passes this information onto his good partner Dottore, who decides he has to really test out the theory that you’re as good as Pantalone says you are.
Dottore, who decides he’ll need you for certain experiments. You’re hesitant, but he promised he’d never do anything to hurt his loyal assistant.
Dottore, whose experiments are really just seeing how many times you can cum on a drug, a toy, his hand or his dick.
Dottore, who is WAY more teasing than Pantalone and wants to pleasure you, but makes sure his pleasure is always given no matter what.
Dottore, who loves to try any new kink or idea with you. Whether it be bondage, role playing kink- anything! you’re the only one he will do it with
Dottore, who is just so rough on your poor cunt :( who’ll rub your clit as he fucks into you so harshly, the slaps echoing through his lab.
Dottore, who WILL fuck you in front of the segments or have multiple of them fuck you while he watches
Dottore, who then passes this onto his comrade, Capitano.
Capitano, who is the sweetest out of all of them.
Capitano, who yes, does need you for his stress relief but he doesn’t wanna hurt you. Instead, he’ll go at your own pace- he knows his cock is too big for you and is patient to get you ready.
Capitano, who praises the most out of them all. It’s a shock because he’s typically quiet, but a “good girl” will make you cum on the spot.
Capitano, who will only go rough on you once you beg him too, and he will quite literally fuck you like a monster.
Capitano, who is just so big even his fingers make you go crazy. He’ll wipe your tears as you complain about how big it is and he’ll try his best to soothe you.
Capitano, when rough, goes absolutely drunk on your pussy and fucks his cum into it for hours even if you’re too overstimulated.
Capitano, who’s coat is so big that when the others aren’t using you, he’ll have you sit on his lap during meetings and wrap his coat around you- hiding how you’re warming his cock, or sometimes he might not even use the coat.
Capitano, who passes this information onto his good friend, Pierro.
Pierro, who could be the sweetest if we considered this in terms of how gentle they were when they fuck you.
Pierro, who is actually practically monsterfucking you whenever he chooses to use you.
Pierro, who is sweet because he doesn’t like to use you a lot- he knows how much the others do and how much it makes you sore so instead he’s the king of aftercare, making sure you come to him after them if they don’t take care of you so that he can.
Pierro, who sometimes just can’t help it because he’s too stressed out, and has to bend you over his desk and fuck you for hours.
Pierro, who does care about your pleasure just a bit, but you are his stress relief aren’t you? He’ll remind you as he cums for the nth time in you, you a babbling a mess.
Pierro, who isn’t really as kinky or exhibiting as the others and likes to fuck you in the comfort of his office. However, he may steal Capitano’s idea and slowly and subtly bounce you on his cock while you’re under his coat, hiding from the others.
Pierro, who’s dick is just too big that the moment he even lets the tip in you’re already going absolutely drunk on his cock.
Pierro, who notices Childe’s recent sickness caused by his delusion, and suggests a reason for him to finally relax in certain ways; you.
Childe, who is the last on the list of being the sweetest.
Childe, who sure, he’ll praise you when you do so good and degrade you just how you like- will use you the most out of all the men
Childe, who is just soooo tired and stressed and he needs your pussy to suck his cock in at least once every hour.
Childe, who will have you cockwarm him as he does his work and spanks your thigh when you try to get some relief and tells you to be patient and that he’ll tend to you once he’s done.
Childe, who does care about your pleasure and makes sure to make you cum first, but the real reason is because he wants you overstimulated so you can cry and beg for him to stop- it turns him on because you know you don’t want him to.
Childe, who will fuck you anywhere and everywhere. The lounge rooms? Every couch has been used. The kitchen? You’ve been bent over every counter? The halls? He’ll hold you up and fuck into you.
Childe, who does not care if someone sees or hears you two and will purposely make you scream so the subordinates outside his office can hear and remind them that they can’t have someone as gorgeous as you.
Childe, who even if it seems like he sees you as his cock sleeve, does care about you and makes sure you get good aftercare and will massage you- him and Pierro are great minds alike.
Childe, who is the one to suggest to all of them to use you when they’re all in the castle.
You, who by the end of the day, is a babbling mess; you’re covered in their cum while some of it dropped out of all your holes. There were honestly hundreds of bite and hickey marks littered over you- your neck, thighs, tits, ass, hips. It’s insane. and all they can think about is how they can’t wait to continue using your slutty pussy.
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Twitter; II_MakeLemonade
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#genshin impact#genshin fic#childe x reader#genshin x reader#genshin x y/n#genshin x you#genshin smut#pantalone smut#pantalone x you#pantalone x reader#dottore smut#dottore x you#dottore x reader#capitano smut#capitano x reader#capitano x you#pierro smut#pierro genshin#pierro x reader#pierro x you#childe smut#childe x y/n#childe x you
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I’m obsessed with the idea of turning the sensitivity up super high on Android!Ghost‘s dick. Making him all overstimulated and he just doesn’t know what to do bc he’s not used to this!!! He’s just whining and writhing, completely lost on whether to buck up into the feeling or to run away from it!!! Poor baby doesn’t know what to do with himself of where to put his hands :(
(I also love the idea of his systems overheating, but idk if he can do that LOL)
When you were designing the orgasm programs this was a definite concern. Finding the right balance of sensitivity and system wide responses was certainly difficult. There was a lot of testing that went into each iteration. Which meant calling Ghost into the workshop and hooking him up to your computer to run the programs. Just because you haven't hooked up the main component doesn't mean you can't test the software, and the orgasm itself is what you're really worried about.
Of course coming with no build up would be a shock to anyone's system, but especially for an android that hasn't had one in, well, ever. You hook the last of the wires into the back of Ghost's head, careful with each port and line. You press run and watch the screen for system malfunctions, watch the file upload and and fill up as the entire thing warms up.
Then Ghost jolts, chokes, and grabs the edge of the worktable. His back arches and his hips buck, body searching for something it doesn't have the subroutines for, the equipment for. Reflexively he grabs for where his dick would be, if you'd installed the prototype for this test, and when his hand finds open air it squeezes into a tight fist. A low, broken swear drips from Ghost's synthetic vocal cords, something garbled and lost in the translation from thought to speech. You're a little worried the angle of the arch in his back is going to snap the new spinal plate you installed. He's so tight, held taut like a bow being pulled back and back and back.
Warnings flash on your screen. Red levels and bars the fluctuate too high too fast. System overheating. You can see smoke starting to drift from the seams around his neck, and rush to pull the program's plug. A few deft keystrokes and Ghost collapses onto the workbench, his chest heaving as his cooling systems kick into high gear. You rush to unhook the wires and he catches your fingers in one big hand.
"Just gimme a minute," He tries, you can almost make out the sound of breath ghosting over the sound, "then we'll run it again."
#cod x reader#x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost mw2#ghost x reader#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#mw2 ghost#ghost cod#android!ghost#cyberpunk au#gn!reader
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I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind) pt. 2
pt. 1
🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ
June 1996, Chicago
Steve doesn’t exactly know when Eddie Munson became one of his best friends, let alone when he fell in love with him.
He supposes both things occurred between the end of the world, and Eddie’s back walking out the door for the last time, unbeknownst to anyone. Though, that is five years of time, who’s to say when it really happened.
Dustin will argue the friend part. He likes to think it was he who brought them together (it certainly wasn’t; in fact, it put a real bump in the road for them). Dustin also thinks, which Steve is more inclined to think is true, that the two of them had become friends during Eddie’s slow recovery and Steve’s guilt complex, which made him feel responsible for him.
Which—ouch, Dustin—but years of therapy would prove him right.
Little shit.
Dustin doesn't know about the love part, though, and Steve doesn’t think much of the party knows except for one or two of the perceptive ones.
Looking at you, Lucas.
Robin likes to argue that Steve doesn’t know when he fell in love with Eddie because Eddie was different from everyone else.
Steve puts everything into love, moves fast, falls hard, and ultimately gets crushed by his own passion. Steve doesn’t know how to take things slow or wait around for the right person.
Until he did, with Eddie.
Steve managed to have a slow decent into the madness of loving a man like Eddie Munson. And he never did anything about it, although he didn't mind. Steve was okay with just being friends and loving from afar.
Until they weren't even that, and Eddie was gone.
Steve can't think about that now, instead he should probably worry about the man himself breaking into his apartment at 3 a.m.
"Get. Out." Robin hisses, breaking Steve from his thoughts.
Suddenly, Eddie stands. His hands thrust forward in a placating nature, and nervous energy radiates off of him. "Robin, please—"
"No, Munson. You don't get to disappear from our lives for five years, and then break into our apartment!" Robin whisper shouts, the metal bat waving around in her grip.
Steve still hasn't said anything, still unsure of any of it is really happening. But he can't help but warm at Robin's fierceness.
She will go down swinging for Steve, even against someone she cares about.
Fuck, he loved her.
"Give me one good reason not to bash your skull in with this thing, Munson. I dare you!" Robin took the metal bat and pushed it into Eddie's chest.
Steve gets a good look at him as he stumbles backward. He doesn't look much different—well that's a lie. He does look different; more tattoos, more piercings and Steve is pretty surprised to catch him wearing anything other than a band tee. It is just so all quintessentially Eddie. The jewelry is all silver, any tattoo he got after 1986 appears to be in black and red ink only. Even his tee is still black despite the lack of a band on the front.
"Birdie, I don't think you should have Steve's bat in your hands, you're a bit dangerous." Eddie tries to grab the bat from her hands but Robin yanks it back.
"Oh, fuck you, Munson! You don't get to call me Birdie, and this is my bat. Steve's is wooden and full of nails and underneath his bed. You should know that, or has the last five years really rotted your brain?" Robin is now waving the bat around with gusto, nearly missing Steve's head at one point.
Trying to shake himself from his frozen state, Steve decides it is probably in everyone's best interest if he steps in.
"Robs." Steve speaks gently, hand on the bat as he slowly lowers it down. Her shoulders drop, the fight draining out of her in seconds. "It's okay."
It's not okay. Steve doesn't understand what's happening right now. But Steve is okay as long as he has Robin, and Robin has him. Steve hopes she understands that's what he meant.
Robin nods her head, and shuffles closer to him.
Steve takes a shaky breath, "What are you doing here, Munson?"
Eddie cringes at the use of his last name but doesn't comment. "Listen, I know it's weird me just stopping by suddenly—"
Robin snorts, "I wouldn't exactly call breaking in 'stopping by'."
Eddie shakes his head, ignoring her. Stray curls start to fall loose from their bun. "I just want to talk, for you guys to hear me out."
Steve rubs a hand down his face, he is getting too old for this stuff. Being blindsided, being surprised—being thrown sideways and upside down. Sure, twenty-nine isn't exactly old, but Steve has lived practically six different lifetimes by now. There is so much damage to him—physically and emotionally. He is supposed to be past nonsense like this.
Robin takes his silence as permission to snip at Eddie, "No. Go away, Eddie. You don't get to do that. Get out."
Eddie moves a step forward, he is now illuminated completely by the side table's light. He looks tired—good but tired. It's not the kind of tired you see of someone in distress, not the ache that comes along in the tunnel that has no light in the end. No, Eddie looks tired in the way that comes with healing. Like working hard exhaustion. As if coming home from a long but good day at work, and the night grows weary.
Eddie opens his mouth to argue, but Steve cuts him off. "It's fine, Robbie. It's late; let him crash on the couch."
Eddie's shoulders sag in relief, "Thanks, Stevie, we can talk—"
"No." Steve chokes out, moving his hand towards his throat so he can remember to breathe. "You don't get to call me that. And we're not talking about anything. You'll sleep here, but that's it. I might not want you here, but it doesn't mean I'm going to let you wander the streets at night."
"Steve, please—" Eddie reaches out his hands to touch Steve. It is most likely going to be a gentle touch, but Steve can't help the way he violently flinches.
Eddie looks taken aback, eyes wide and full of sadness. He pulls his hands back.
"No, Eddie." Steve grabs Robin's hand and starts to pull her to bed. She doesn't protest and instead leans into his touch. Steve turns over his shoulder to look at Eddie again. "You'll stay the night. It's not an option. But my morning? I want you gone. I don't want you to be the first thing I see after sunrise."
Steve turns quickly back around, ignoring the pained grunt from behind him.
Bypassing Robin's bedroom, Steve pulls them both into his. Robin doesn't question it and instead makes herself comfortable in his forest green blankets.
Steve quickly follows after, snuggling into the bed beside her. People have thought them weird over the years—always in each other's spaces and knowing every little thing about each other. Partners, friends, family—all of them had something to say about it, never even bothering to understand.
Well, except Eddie. Eddie appreciated it, accepted it. Adored it at times.
"Are you really okay with this, Dingus?" Robin whispers softly between them.
"No." Steve never lies to Robin; she'll know. "Not at all, but I'm not going to let him wander the streets, no matter what I loved him at some point. I don't let the people I loved, get hurt."
Robin squints in pity, "Loved?"
"Not now, Bobbie," Steve whispers.
Robin nods, "Besides, I'm pretty sure 'Ed Sloane' can afford a fucking hotel room."
Steve lets out a loud snort, it echoes throughout the room. "God, don't remind me. What a stupid fucking name."
The two of them dissolve into giggles, bumping their heads together. Under the covers, they clasp their hands together tight. "I just don't want you to derail your life, for someone who walked so easily out of it. I know you have that important lunch with Drew tomorrow."
Steve takes a breathe through his nose, "Yea, I do. But it'll be fine. He'll be gone before I'm even up. You know Eds, he's a runner. Wouldn't stop trying to prove it, in fact."
Robin's face is scrunched in pain, and her eyes pool with pity. It's as if she knows something Steve doesn't or sees something he chooses to ignore. She doesn't comment on it, though. Instead, she raises an eyebrow, "Eds?"
It isn't snippy or accusing. Her voice is soft against his cheek. Steve doesn't have the mental capacity to argue though. "G'night, Birdie."
"Goodnight, Stevie." She whispers.
Steve closes his eyes, knowing it will all feel like a dream tomorrow.
Steve is familiar with having dreams with Eddie in them.
🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ
more to come i promise, especially after your (loving demands). especially my mutuals who yelled at me in the tags and my dm's (it made my day).Part 3 is currently being typed up. Also might fuck around and make this a full-blown ao3 one shot; who knows.
tag list!:
@stevesbipanic @withacapitalp @emryyyyy09 @brainfugk @blueberrylemontea-fanfic
@slv-333 @thetinymm @connected-dots-st-reblogger @helpimstuckposting @dreamercec
@goodolefashionedloverboi @stripey82 @little2nerdy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @resident-gay-bitch
@ghostquer @sourw0lfs @devondespresso
(please let me know if you don't want a tag, I had to guess by the comments, and sorry if you’re getting a random tag after posting, I had to fix the tag list cause tumblr is weird)
#okay so now it is a thing#no more idk i promise#also this has a happy ending i promise#steddie#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#my writing#platonic stobin#platonic soulmates stobin#stobin#platonic with a capital p#steve and robin#I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind)#ao3#ficlet#angst#hurt/comfort
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❤ Yandere Lawyer ❤
▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.
More at Masterlist
Female reader
WARNINGS: Obsession; Misogyny; slight Power Abuse.
This idea credit goes to @d-lioncourt cause she's the one that motivated me for this idea. Hope you like this :)
--
◾ Yandere! Lawyer who works in the top law firm of the country. He’s cold, determinate and calculative. Always thinking 10 steps ahead of everyone, carefully considering all possibilities and creating extensive back-up plans.
His job relies on his capacities and he always aims for the top. If he’s not recognized as the best lawyer available, then he doesn’t even know what he’s been doing so far.
◾ Yandere! Lawyer who doesn't care about how things are done as long as he wins the case in the end. Who said lawyers are saints?
He may be an advocate of the law but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t bend it to his will, finding sneaky gaps to reach his goal: win.
Isn’t that what makes him such a requested lawyer? Isn’t that what causes every big corporate company to try to sign him up, to offer several millions for him to represent them in court? Because everyone knows that he wins.
No matter what happens during the trials or how badly the opposite side tries, he wins. It’s an irrefutable truth and anyone that tries to contradict it is a complete and utter fool.
◾ Yandere! Lawyer who is upset enough when he’s informed that he’s gonna have to take a Pro Bono case for a random civilian. It’s frustrating to spend his precious time and expensive resources on a worthless someone.
It’s stupid and he'd immediately refuse it if it wasn’t for the strict order he receives from the higher ups.
◾ Yandere! Lawyer who rattles you up, insisting on long sessions so he can know your side of the story.
His questions feel like accusations and you hate spending long hours answering him. Makes you feel like you’ve actually committed a crime of sorts when the reality is none of that.
He knows you’re bothered by the way he pays attention to each of your words, taking mental notes of every minuscule detail so he can bring it up later.
He’s highly aware of how unnerving he can get and it’s fun to see you get so quiet and shy over it.
He loves it when people get intimidated by him and it’s particularly pleasant when a pretty thing like yourself gets too timid to spare him a few words.
◾ Yandere! Lawyer who drags the case much longer than it needs to. He could definitely end it in a blink of eyes, it would be so easy for him. A piece of cake.
But he doesn’t.
It’s exciting to see you on court, a helpless expression covering your whole face and your eyes at the verge of tears as your future lays on his hands.
So pathetically weak. You can’t even defend yourself, you need him to do that for you. To defend your honor, to protect you.
◾ Yandere! Lawyer who makes sure you know that despite it being a Pro Bono case, you owe him. He wants you to know that he’s winning this case for you, wasting his valuable time just to save your pathetic ass from those embezzlement charges.
That he’s the one saving you from going to prison - despite the very evident fact that you have such a weak personality that it’s practically impossible that you’d steal money from your boss.
◾ Yandere! Lawyer who takes every chance to hurt your feelings with snide remarks.
You look prettier when you cry, something so enticing about those shiny diamond-like tears that glow in your eyes and the miserable way you furiously blink to keep them at bay - to which you fail.
You’re crying because of him. That’s enough to make him buzz with a twisted sense of possession and control. He holds that much power over you.
◾ Yandere! Lawyer whose mind wanders over the tempting fantasies of returning home to you. You’d do a submissive girlfriend, he’s so sure of that. If he gave you a nasty slap and a few harsh words, you’d bend to his will so fast - like a obedient girlfriend should.
It would be so easy to control your life.
Order you to move in with him. Command you to become his stay-at-home girlfriend. Push you to cut off friends and family until only he remains.
Those misogynistic ideas keep him thinking about you longer than he should.
◾ Yandere! Lawyer who isn’t afraid to act upon his wishes and so he does. After a triumphing win on court, he leaves.
Storms off without even looking at you and you don’t even have the chance to thank him, but you forget about that quickly.
You have more pressing issues to focus on, such as rebuilding your life all again. Celebrate your win. Find a new job. Move on with your life the best as you can.
Your peace lasts exactly one week. And then everything comes down in rubbles.
Because then he comes to retrieve his payment.
#@mrsdarkandyandere7#yandere x you#yandere x reader#tw: yandere#yandere concept#female reader#yandere headcanons#yandere oc x reader#yandere x darling#yandere imagines
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Your sister who you love so much (even though you’ve never shown it) asks you to be her sister again, her true sister, in deed not just in name. And yes, of course that’s what you want. That’s what you’ve always wanted and now that she’s shattered your defenses and destroyed the ones who would pit you against each other and died right before your eyes, how could you refuse? How could your answer be anything but yes?
So you go home with her, not the ruins of your perfectly posh prison, but a new home which provides love and care and bunk beds and it’s so so nice. Ridiculously nice. Sickeningly nice. And a small, sick part of you almost misses your old home (if you can even call it a home) because yes, it was cruel and awful and you hated every second of it but you knew where you fit. You knew what your role was. You don’t fit in here. Everyone accepts you because they’re all so nice, but they don’t know how to volley back your sharp words or find a hidden, “I love you” within an offhanded insult.
And then your sister leaves to save the world again because that’s who she is. She’s the kind of person who goes out to save the world with her friends when she’s needed and you’re not. You’re not, not, not. Not on any count. You don’t save things, you destroy them. And friends? You have to allow yourself to be vulnerable for friends so of course that’s out. Your sister is 16 and she’s out saving the world for the third time and you, fully grown at 18, are a wanted criminal who hasn’t even properly graduated from high school. You can’t stop thinking about it and, without your sister and her friends occupying the house as a buffer, the ones who are left try to get you to talk about it so you make a rash decision, as you are wont to do. You leave, like a thief in the night. You can make your own way. You can. You’ll prove it.
You find a shitty apartment and pay for it with the ill-gotten spoils from one of your many exploits. You could probably pawn some treasure for more luxurious accommodations–there is that chest of rubies just lying around–but you don’t. That’s not what you deserve. And what if your sister needs help later? You don’t have access to your parental funds anymore which means she doesn’t either. You know she won’t ask anyone for help–you wouldn’t. But someone has to look after her. You’re an abjuration wizard. You protect people. You protect her. No, that’s a lie. But you want to make it not a lie. You want to start now.
If you’re saving the rubies then you need a source of income. You narrow down your least villainous talents to try and find a suitable job and hit on teacher. You’re good at magic, right? So how hard can teaching it be? Hopefully not as hard as securing the job, which proves trickier than expected because, oh right, you’re a wanted criminal who hasn’t graduated high school. But you dip into your villainous talents once more and tell yourself it’s for a good cause. You secure the job. You’re doing it. You’re making your own way.
You want to text your sister to see if she’s doing alright but you don’t want to intrude and you don’t want to answer any questions about what you’ve been doing because then either you’ll have to lie or explain that you’ve left again, right after you promised you’d be there. Both options make your heart ache, especially since it’s her birthday. So you wait until the house is empty (mostly empty–you’re never really alone in a haunted house) and enter the room you and your sister shared for too brief a time. You paint her walls with carefully rendered runes, filled with all your abjuration magic and stamped with your arcane mark. It’s a possessive bit of spellcraft. A selfish claiming of a climactic kill. You mean to make a different kind of claim. You are claiming your sister, as she asked you to months ago. You are telling the world that she will not be fucked with while you live. Your rooms were so close before. You could hear her. You knew every night she went to bed in the grips of a panic attack with no one to console her. She won’t have to feel unsafe in her own room again. You can make sure of that at least.
The sun rises one morning and you know that means your sister is alive and well and coming home. You teleport to Falinel to make sure she returns to her favorite dessert. It’s worth the spell slot and the chance of being recognized. The tower where they kept you is long destroyed and you know that this time, if you were ever captured or even killed, rescue wouldn’t be measured in a matter of months. It would be days. Hours even if your clever sister and her powerful divination magic put things together faster. The thought fills you with more emotion than you know what to do with. You leave a note. “I love you,” you think. “Enjoy the nemesis ward,” you write.
Practicing magic, as it turns out, is a very different skill than teaching magic. The children are loud and obnoxious and you don’t quite realize that maybe your expectations are too high between the hothouse you grew up in and your sister being the world’s greatest diviner, fullstop. You know you can always go back to the manor, but that somehow makes it easier to stick it out. You’ve always been taught that pressure provides the best results but there’s something about the security of a safety net that makes everything a bit more bearable. And so what if you have to take a second job involving a light criminal element. You’re only smuggling–that’s barely even a real crime.
Your sister who has saved the world thrice now, texts you and she wants help. She is looking to you for help. And you do your best to oblige. You offer your knowledge, you offer your rubies, you invite her over again and again. She sends you a text and deletes it. You’re not the diviner in the family but you drain your spell slots scrying for information you already know. Information that you'll hear from her own lips in just a few hours. “I love you.”
She finally visits and you’re not unaware of the state of your apartment. You know you’ve been too exhausted for an Unseen Servant or even a round of Prestidigitations but you know that your sister has seen your mind and there’s nothing messier about you than that. She teases you and you tease her back. She’s the only one who understands how to deliver a complement with a backhand so you can receive it without your skin crawling. The only one who knows how much tartness you need with your sweetness.
Later, she visits again. She sits in your filthy apartment and you watch trash TV and it’s the highlight of your week. Your month even. That should feel pathetic but, somehow it doesn’t. You want to tell her. She deserves to hear it from time to time without having to filter out the layers of prickliness that you add as second nature, a layer of armor as ever present as your abjurer’s ward. You may not be able to handle naked sentiment but she can. You’ve seen her with her friends. How affectionate they are. You’ve always been taught that loose lips sink ships but you have experience with ship sinking and this prospect fills you with much less dread. You tell her and it’s awkward and fumbling but you manage. Maybe loving people isn’t so different from loving cats.
You have a new job which is perfect because the school year is almost over and, blackmail or no, you aren’t sure how many times you’ll be able to get away with casting Sleep on your class to give yourself a break. Honestly, you should have applied for jobs in Leviathan from the start. Why would pirates care about your sketchy history and lack of credentials? You could teleport yourself to Leviathan every day but that would be a waste of a spell slot when the door to Leviathan is right there in the manor (and if your sister happens to be there too then hey, happy coincidence). While you’re there, you might as well do your laundry. And stay for dinner from time to time. And spend time with your sister in your her room where your runes stand sentinel and your old bunk lays untouched. You don’t think you’re staring but later, as you go to grab a snack from the kitchen your sister throws you a casual, over the shoulder glance.
“You can just move back in, if you want.”
And would it really be that easy? Just like that? After a year of trying to make a point or a plan or a better version of yourself or whatever? Just like that?
You remember a year ago. You and your sister and words that will be burned into your mind forever.
“Despite the fact that you have not earned it, I do love you.”
Just like that.
You say yes. You stay.
#fantasy high#fantasy high spoilers#dimension 20#d20#spoilers#aelwyn abernant#you wanna hear something funny?#this was supposed to be a 3 paragraph post tops#I am boo boo the fool#adaine abernant#abernant sisters#i am back on my bullshit
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introducing... bitchy reader!
rafe never pays attention to sarah’s friends. new yet similar faces seem to make the rounds through tannyhill every week; the place was a revolving door. the occasional familiar girl would say hi to him, which would of course be ignored since he doesn’t care enough to say hi back.
so naturally, you become the exception to his little rule.
you and sarah are on opposite sides of the counter, flicking through magazines and taking sips from overpriced iced coffees, when he overhears a conversation that makes him stop and listen.
“-and he’s not like topper, like, at all. he’s really nice and actually talks to me instead of at me-”
“wow,” he hears you say, dragging out the syllables and sarcasm dripping from your voice. “such standards you have. no, really.”
“shut up. he’s totally sweet-” sarah says, but you interrupt her.
“he’s, like, totally a dirty pogue.” that catches his attention—not just the fact that there’s something going on between his sister and some pogue, but the way you say the sentence, how the words sound coming from your mouth.
you nearly sound like rafe.
“that is so rude-”
“what? i’m just being honest. i’d be a bad friend if i didn’t tell you the truth.”
“what truth?” his sister questions.
“that you’re settling for some pogue boy because you’re bored of top. i get it. if i was dating him i’d be bored enough to fuck a pogue too.”
rafe cringes at the topic even though your word choice makes him laugh—topper is boring, though he doesn’t think he’s heard anyone else bring it up until now. he steps back into the doorway, watching the two of you. the crass words are coming from you, dressed in a sunny yellow dress and tapping pretty pink nails against the counter.
“hey! i’m not bored-”
“you mean, you like hearing about his boat and golf every single day?”
“he has other hobbies! like-”
“like what?” you pause, watching sarah’s expression before giving her a pointed look—a look that says told you so. “who are you really trying to convince right now?” you flip through another magazine, finding something that must have caught your eye. you lift it to show sarah—some pinked striped pajamas and fuzzy slippers on the pages. “don’t i totally need this?”
“shut up.”
“that’s what someone says when they know the other person’s right,” you say with a mocking smile, setting down the magazine. he’s watching the whole thing—you’re funnier than he would have thought. “and if you change your mind just go to country club. top’s dime a dozen there.” the two of you start laughing.
“i’m not gonna change my mind-”
“that’s what you said when you started dating topper,” you say it deadpan, and rafe holds back a laugh.
“-because he’s really nice. he’s a good guy.”
“ugh, sarah. making out with a dirty pogue at a bonfire is one thing. you’re talking like you’re in love. get a grip.”
“what? what’s so wrong with that?” sarah asks, taking a sip of her drink.
“because you can’t be in love with someone you have to hide your valuables around.” that’s when he decides to walk in—sarah sputtering on her drink while you roll your eyes.
“and what’re you girls talkin’ about?” rafe asks, and two sets of eyes turn to look at him. you look at him a little confused—in all the years you’ve known sarah and times you’ve been at tannyhill, rafe’s never once spoken to you.
“i don’t think it’s any of your business-” his sister says, and then he rolls his eyes. you interrupt right away.
“sarah, it’s okay.” you turn to rafe, looking right at him and leaning in a little like you’re gonna tell in something. “it’s really not any of your business.”
blank face, trying to be annoyed but not actually feeling annoyed, he stares back at you. his sister laughs stupidly, heading into the living room. she leaves you alone with rafe in the kitchen, but as you grab your drink and try to follow sarah, rafe says something.
“y’know i heard that shit you were sayin’. you’re funny, kid.” you turn back to look at rafe.
“thanks. i wasn’t joking.”
“yeah. good. at least one of my sister’s friends has ‘er head screwed straight.” you laugh, but the look on your face says you didn’t think it was funny.
“are you trying to compliment me? by insulting all my other friends?” he wasn’t expected that retort.
“no. no, i-”
“maybe if your friend wasn’t such a shit boyfriend, sarah wouldn’t be talking to some pogue. but hey, what do i know?”
“hey, kid, i-”
“don’t call me that.” you roll your eyes, walking to the living room without even glancing back at rafe. he calls out after you again.
“so have you?” you pause, turning again.
“have i what?”
“made out with some pogue at the bonfire.” he shrugs. “that’s what you said to sarah, isn’t it?”
“again, how is that any of your business?” you ask, cocking your head at him.
“that’s not an answer.”
“i don’t owe you an answer. but for the record, no, i haven’t. i actually have standards.” he doesn’t miss the remark and what it says about his sister.
“good,” rafe says, looking at you. his eyes rake over your body before he can stop it—your short hem, the jewelry dangling on your wrists and neck, the heels even though you hadn’t gone anywhere.
“shut up. weirdo.” you walk to the living room where sarah’s waiting for you.
rafe’s gonna have a hard time staying away from you.
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I’m kind of surprised I haven’t seen any fanfics that run on the idea that Alfred is a ghost? (Either as like the main focus of the story, or just a subplot.)
Think about it.
A lot of stories kind of have Alfred as being this eternally elderly man regardless of how old everyone else in the story is. The man doesn’t seem to age!
More importantly, where does he get the time and energy to do all the stuff he does to keep the manor and the family functional? He somehow manages to keep the giant house that is the Wayne Manor in order despite how many people live there plus his added duties thanks to the family’s vigilante lifestyle? When exactly does this man sleep? Also, I always find it amusing how in stories Alfred seems to always be cooking but it’s rare to actually show him eating himself.
What if someone plays with the idea of him not needing to sleep, eat, etc. because he is a ghost?
I just kind of imagine the idea of Alfred getting up one morning to start the day and nothing seems amiss either to himself or the rest of the family; however, when he retires to his quarters for the night he discovers his body laying still and cold where he had left it. (Could you imagine him, after coming to accept he is a ghost, just… getting rid of his own body and going about life as usual and never telling anyone in the family?)
Maybe I just find the idea of Alfred, rather than passing on, just continuing to take care of his family like nothing has changed touching, if in a morbid way.
The idea could, technically, be construed as the rest of the family not paying Alfred any mind or taking him for granted so much they don’t notice he died, but in my head its more of a fluffy/humorous thing where Alfred is just very good at hiding his ghostly nature from anyone.
This story idea doesn’t even have to necessarily be a Danny Phantom crossover. It’s just that this fanfic idea was spawned out of this brief scene idea of Danny coming to live at the manor (insert any other story plot as to why), and both Alfred and Danny clocking each other immediately. (The idea included Danny fretting over asking Alfred about it but being afraid Alfred might not know he’s dead, and Alfred noting Danny is half-ghost but his only concern is that anyone living under his roof is cared for.
(If I didn't already have a dozen or more story ideas sitting in folders not yet completed, I'd kind of want to brainstorm on this more because I think its a cool concept?)
#batman fanfic idea#batman facfic plot bunny#Alfred Pennyworth#Alfred Is a ghost#dpxdc#dcxdp#dp x dc#dc x dp#danny phantom crossover#dp x dc fanfic idea#dp x dc plot bunny
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Best Friends Forever!
Suguru Geto ♡
MDNI
₊˚ପ⊹ Summary: You’re Suguru’s bff and roommate. You know him like the back of your hand – and he knows you the same, if not better! Some people may think you two are too close, but they just don’t understand. When you have a date planned and need help picking out your outfit, Suguru’s your guy! ...What’s this? He doesn’t want you to leave?
₊˚ପ⊹ Warnings: minor mention of blood, mention of pet death, possessiveness, jealousy, nipple play, thigh riding, fingering, making you beg, overstimulation, unprotected sex
₊˚ପ⊹ an: kicking and screaming and crying and throwing up and scratching my face I NEED HIM.
₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 2.8k
𓂃⊹ ִֶָ
BFF! Sugu who’s been by your side since before you can even remember! You grew up neighbors and when you both went off to college you got an apartment off campus together. It was only natural to be with Suguru. He was the only constant in your life – your anchor.
BFF! Sugu who is so protective of you. How could he not? You two experienced life’s firsts together. You were there when Suguru took a nasty spill off his bike. His tears were hot down his face as you stayed by his side. You used the water bottle you kept on your own bike to flush the blood off his knee, giving it a quick peck. “My mom always says a kiss makes everything better. Do you feel better Sugu?” He nods his head, wiping the snot off of his face with his t-shirt. He was there when you lost your first pet and even though you were preteens and everyone made you feel dumb being sad over a goldfish - Geto made it a point to hold a funeral in his backyard. He dug a small grave for it - picking out the perfect rock for you to write its name on to place on top of its resting place.
BFF! Sugu who makes sure you’re safe. He would never allow you to pump your own gas. He’s seen the type of guys who prowl around the gas station close to your home. He’ll make sure you get to sit pretty in the passenger seat while he fills up your car. Don’t worry about the price – he’ll take care of it. He always takes care of you.
BFF! Sugu who knows everything about you. He knows all your favorites. Favorite color, favorite season, favorite food, favorite tv show… there was nothing that you liked that he was not aware of. He knows about things you wouldn’t be caught dead telling anyone else – trusting only your best friend.
BFF! Sugu who is so so sooooo protective of you. Any guy he thought wasn’t the absolute best for you was quickly kicked to the curb. He’ll admit – sometimes the criteria was a little strict. The guy from your art class? His haircut was stupid. Shithead from your after school club? Believe him – he was a tool. Worst of all was the douche on your school’s baseball team. Suguru had quite the time getting you to see his point of view, but he didn’t dare say I told you so as you cried in his arms retelling the embarrassment of catching him cheating.
BFF! Sugu who learns to relax in college. You were a woman now – you no longer needed his constant guidance. He would genuinely smile as you talked about all the friends you were making in your major. How funny your coworkers at the concession stand job you worked every football game were. The fact you had a date with a friend of a friend – your girl friend had vouched for him. He was a good guy. Geto was glad you had people looking out for you. He couldn’t wait to meet him.
BFF! Sugu who helps you pick out the cute little outfits for your dates. You were so beautiful, that guy was truly lucky. But even his luck couldn’t match Suguru’s as you put on a little show for him – trying on every tantalizing option.
BFF! Sugu who loved watching you dress up so much he bought you more. You didn’t even need a date to have a fashion show! He just loved seeing that color on you. Oh! – And don’t even get him started on the skimpy little dresses with the ruffles. They were made for you. He couldn’t decide whether your plump butt or your squishy boobs looked better hugged by the fabric. He had to use his large hand to hide the bite he gave to his bottom lip when your cute little panties peaked through the bottom of a particularly short one. “Maybe that one is good for around the house,” he proposed.
BFF! Sugu who had to swallow his need when you begged him to rate your lingerie. “I didn’t realize you two were at that point in your relationship,” he would try to laugh off his distaste.
“I’ve told him no to sex for so long, I’ve been thinking maybe it's time…” you trailed off. You played with the hem of your dress as you stood in front of Suguru on the couch. He was sunk comfortably into the loveseat, legs spread wide and one of his muscled arms stretching across the back of the couch. The other on the arm rest. “Ok princess. Let’s see the options,” he spoke.
BFF! Sugu who couldn’t make it through the first set. The white lace left little to the imagination, a black bow adorned above your cute mound. “You trying to make me sweat?” A dark chuckle broke through his lips. “Sorry?” you asked him, not hearing him correctly. How silly you were to think that just because he was a friend that made him any less of a man. A hot blooded man at that – with eyes that glued to your nipples visible through the thin fabric. “The dresses were one thing, princess, but this? Don’t play dumb,” his dark eyes were now impossibly black. You were staring into the voids that indiscreetly roamed your body. It was entirely silly of you to now try and hide yourself from his hungry gaze.
BFF! Sugu who doesn’t let you leave. You were no match against his strong grip as he pulled you onto his lap. “You’re leavin’ me no choice,” he assured you, pushing you down hard against his thigh. You tried to push away but his hands on your waist locked you in. “No choice,” he reminded you. You swallowed thickly, realizing you were completely helpless as he began guiding your hips up and down his thigh. The rough material of your panties rubbing deliciously against your clit. “Sugu s-stop,” you begged him, all breathy and hot against his ear. “You want me to stop?” Of course! He was your best friend. You didn’t want him making you feel better than you ever thought possible by just rubbing your pussy against his leg. “But you look so cute like this,” he pouted at you, “Humping my thigh like a puppy. I’ll let go – but you better stop moving your hips,” he tutted at you. You didn’t have it in you to keep your eyes open to watch yourself continuously rut against him even after he removed his hands. It wasn’t your fault his muscled thigh felt more pleasurable than any toy you could ever buy.
Geto had plenty of girls at your school talking about their experiences with him. You spent your entire teen years hearing about his ‘magical tongue’ and ‘horse dick’. For the majority of your life you had little interest in getting to experience that part of your best friend – that was until the bastard from the baseball team. The absolute snore fest he put on for your first time was jarring. Maybe you were so used to hearing how life-changing Suguru’s hips were that you had high expectations...
No – you were not purposefully trying to get Geto to want you. He genuinely gave good advice when it came to what looked good on you. Ok so maybe you were pushing your luck with the lingerie – but Suguru was always so level-headed. It was scary how quickly he caved.
It was even more frightening listening to his taunts hot in your ear, “Why aren’t you stopping?” You couldn’t stop now – but you would. Just a little longer. You’d find the strength to stop soon. “Tell me you want me, or I’m stopping this,” he threatened and your form shook. “Please don’t,” you begged him. “Don’t what?” he lifted your chin, making you look at him “Don’t s-stop t-this,” you squeaked out.
BFF! Sugu whose rumors were true. His tongue was magical. His hands flew down to your hips, helping you roll deliciously against the fabric of his sweats while his wet muscle was hot against your nipples. He used his teeth to pull down the fabric so he could taste your bare bud against his tongue. He suckled and licked your sensitive nipple causing your arousal to seep past the lace of your panties. You began to soak his sweatpants but he wasn’t gonna have you stopping anytime soon. He pulled your hips into tight circles against him, overwhelming your nub. His teeth nibbled at your nipple and you jerked up at the sudden shock. His grip was bruising and you wanted – no needed more. “Sugu.. more.. need more” you sounded so pathetic.
BFF! Sugu who was left with little choice! His princess wanted more and more she was going to get. His head kissed your entrance, barely pushing in past the tip. You mewled, nails digging into his shoulders as he teased himself into you. “You think you can take me?” he asked you and you nodded fervently. He was thick and long – even his tip felt like he was tearing you in two. You wanted to be absolutely broken. “M-more Sugu,” you begged, trying to move your hips to sink down further. He kept you still – only allowing you to move if it was him dragging you down against him. Your slick was dripping down the rest of his cock, you were completely overwhelmed by the little attention he was giving you. One of his hands moved from your hips down to your clit, rubbing slow circles – barely ghosting above it. You were clenching on his fat tip and whining embarrassingly loud. He wanted to have you crying for his cock. He clicked his tongue at you, “I’m not convinced enough you want my cock.” He looked so unaffected as you shook, “I do! I need it, Sugu,” tears fell down your cheeks as you desperately tried to convince him.
BFF! Sugu whose hips slapped against yours at a brutal pace. He had you pinned into the loveseat, head down and ass up. A creamy ring formed at the base of his unrelenting cock. Drool was seeping from your mouth and onto the couch, the only thing you could think about was the way he was pounding into that gummy spot that made you dizzy. “No one could make you feel this way,” he promised you, “this pussy was made for me.” His pace was bruising, his balls slapping against your clit. He pulled your hips up farther, making you arch your back. Everything was so noisy – the sound of you meeting his hips, the squelch of his cock pulling in and out, and his grunts each time he felt his tip kiss your cervix. Geto looooved watching you take him so well. Each time his cock disappeared inside of you, only to reappear as he roughly dragged out of you. He didn’t know if you were purposefully squeezing him each time his hips pulled back. Were you trying to keep him buried deep? “Your date won't mind if I leave my cum in you, right?” he teased you – knowing full well you wouldn’t be going anywhere after he was done with you. “Dripping out of your pussy at dinner,” you couldn’t fathom him being able to laugh right now. “What would you even tell him?” he was imagining the scene playing out in his mind, “My roommate thought I was looking a little empty. Needed to stuff me full,” His smile lazy thinking about how he was claiming you tonight. He was fucking your tight little hole deliciously, making sure you could never be satisfied by anything other than his cock. You pushed your hips into his, making sure he reached as deep as possible. “You want to cum, princess?” he picked up his pace – which you didn’t even think was possible – your tits bouncing at each thrust of his hips. You nodded, pleading for him to make you cum. “God – cum on my cock. Want t’feel you squeezin me,” the rough pad of his finger met your clit, helping your pleasure meet its peak. “I’m cumming, Sugu,” you cried out to your best friend.
BFF! Sugu who wasn’t done with you once you came. You tried to claw at his hands on your hips, begging him to slow down. The tension in your tummy snapped, cumming undone loudly around him. He paid no mind to your pleas, “You can take more. You’re a good girl, I know you can.” He didn’t ever want to leave your snug pussy. He would fuck you all day if that’s what it took for him to feel satisfied. “Give me another, baby. Cum on my cock one more time. I know you can,” he was so filthy. You never had a guy dirty talk to you the way Geto was. He was demanding and unrelenting. It was alarming how much you enjoyed the filth leaving his lips. “How could you tell me to stop when she’s gripping me so tight – pussy doesn’t want to let go of me.” he threw his head back, “”S your fault I’m pounding you like this. I couldn't let you get away with showing me that little number.” The lingerie he was referring to was on the floor below you two, ripped into pieces from when he tore it off your body. He completely pulled out of you – leaving your pussy uncomfortably empty before flipping you over and folding you in half. He placed the back of your knees on his shoulder, wasting no time pushing himself back into you. The new angle took your breath away. His heavy frame held you down as his cock was unrelenting. When you looked down you could see his length slide in and out of you, your cute little pussy lips swallowing him whole. Your arousal coated his cock – all thick and creamy. You felt like you could pass out from the sight – not thinking it was possible to be so wet. His thumb reached down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles on it. “C’mon baby. I’m addicted to the way you squeeze my cock. Let me feel you cum again. Need it, princess,” he begged. He was slowly losing all control. You were so perfect underneath him, taking him like the good girl he always knew you were. You were wrecking him. Your sounds were so cute – choking back sobs as he fucked you to another peak. You were begging for him to cum inside you. You wanted to feel him coat your walls in his sticky juice. “Gonna pump you full,” he promised you. “Gonna feel so good stuffed full with my cum.”
BFF! Sugu who can’t stand watching his semen leak out of you. You were completely fucked out – chest heaving as you laid on the couch. Geto was still holding your legs up, trying fruitlessly to push his juices back inside of you.
BFF! Sugu who needs to make sure you keep all of it. He didn’t even wait for you to regain your energy before his thick fingers are deep inside of you. “Can’t let a single drop go to waste,” he tells you. He curls his thick digits, pushing against the squishy spot that makes you see stars. “No more,” you breathlessly say. “Just one more. Need to make sure it all keeps,” you are completely overstimulated. The feelings of his fingers are heightened by your two orgasms – which only makes you come undone even faster. His fingers are lightening fast and your pussy sounds like it's made of water. It’s so loud and wet and you just can’t help yourself from cumming again. You’re thrashing against his unrelenting fingers, crying loud enough that your neighbors definitely hear. “That’s it. S’good for me,” he’s emotional watching you come undone so many times by his doing. You were his. His, his, his.
BFF! Sugu who doesn’t even have to tell you to cancel your date. You couldn’t pick your head up after he was done with you. You were staying home with him – where you belonged.
#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk smut#jjk x you#geto suguru#jjk suguru#jjk geto#jujutsu kaisen suguru#jujutsu geto#getou suguru x reader#suguru geto#geto x reader#geto smut#geto#suguru x reader#suguru geto smut#getou suguru x you#getou suguru x y/n#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x you#geto suguru x y/n#suguru geto x reader#suguru geto x you#suguru geto x y/n#suguru getou#geto suguru smut#geto x you#geto x y/n
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Lucifer’s lewd habits౨ৎ
Nobody asked for this one, but I can’t stop my mind from wondering about Lucifer’s kinks and preferences, so… I’m posting some of it.
(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) Probably going to make part.2 if I remember more things.
Everything here is consensual. I’m talking about a scenario where both of you are aware of each other’s boundaries.
📌 TW: Shameless smut, explicit descriptions of lustful acts, intercourse.
Tried to keep it gender-neutral.
๋࣭⭑Lucifer is the shameless type of guy, the one that will grip into your hair or neck while you are making out and slowly push you down, asking for a blowjob without words. He won’t stop pushing until you finally reach the goal.
He likes it slow, going deep, and will groan when you suddenly circle your tongue over his tip, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum.
๋࣭⭑I think he is someone who doesn’t like PDA while others are looking, but while in public, without catching any attention, he will twist your nipples over your shirt just to see them hardening. He will chuckle and mock you, whispering into your ear on how easy you are.
๋࣭⭑He will make you beg for him to take you, I’m not saying just playfully, but almost making it annoying/painful. Lucifer is a sadist, so, for him, seeing you actually getting mad for wanting to have sex was pure entertainment.
๋࣭⭑Loves shower sex, Despite his busy schedule, whenever he finds a free moment, he'll send you messages inviting you to shower together.
๋࣭⭑Accidentally spread his wings when too excited or too close to an intense orgasm. He won’t be embarrassed tho, but it can startle you a little o_o
๋࣭⭑Will give you lustful stares when you are talking in public, and will smirk when noticing the growing blush on your cheeks.
๋࣭⭑Purposefully rubs himself against you while “helping” you reach for something and lets you feel his intimacy throbbing with excitement. (I headcanon that the house of lamentation has big furniture, since they are slightly taller than average humans)
๋࣭⭑Loves when you worship his body, his red eyes gleaming with amusement as he observes your lips showering him with kisses.
๋࣭⭑Probably will ask you to kneel down and brushes his shoes against your intimacy, enjoying every whimper, every gasp you let escape from your lips.
๋࣭⭑While being the top, Lucifer will grab your hips with force and slam himself into you repeatedly, just to painfully slow down, making him slide in and out. Will chuckle seeing your needy reactions.
๋࣭⭑If he is the bottom, he will make sure to edge you, circling his hips on your lap slowly, making it go deep and then stop, feeling how your body tense with the feeling of almost reaching the peak and calming down again, never reaching the goal.
Plus for MC's habits with him౨ৎ
๋࣭⭑MC boldly grasps his horns as they engage in heated make out sections, unapologetically reveling in the sensation of pushing him to his limits. They adore the subtle frown that crosses his face as he submits to their dominance, though it's clear he thoroughly enjoys it.
๋࣭⭑Casually grabbing Lucifer’s ass as he walks by or while he is trying to give a serious speech. They would take care not to embarrass him in front of anyone tho, just silly moments where they know this would be possible, and they will only receive a threatening glare from the avatar of pride.
๋࣭⭑Nibbling on his ears. For me, Lucifer is a touch starved old man that gets shivers from almost anything, so nibbling on his ears would make him yelp softly, and he will blush if someone is around and hears it.
๋࣭⭑Will steal pecks from him while he is trying to scold them, making his cold heart melt little by little and as they notice him getting excited, they will rub him over his clothes, making the demon whimper softly.
IDK if there are grammar errors, wasn't really trying hard for this one, just wanted to share my thoughts.
Masterlistɞ 📌
#obey me#obey me shall we date#omswd#obey me one master to rule them all#evllsposts#obey me writing#obey me headcanons#obey me lucifer#obey me lucifer x reader#obey me luci x reader#obey me luci x mc#lucifer obey me#om lucifer#obey me hcs#obey me headcanon#obey me smut#obey me swd#obey me x mc
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Your Ride, Best Trip
Summary: You sleep with your boyfriend Marcus for the first time
Word Count: 9,001
Pairing: Marcus Pike x f! afab! reader
Rating: 18+ Explicit
Warnings: 18+ mdni, first time, vaginal fingering, oral (m! and f! receiving), unprotected PIV, squirting, creampie, dirty talk, so much fluff, so much kissing
Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar as ALWAYS. Love you homies I'm kissing u both <3
A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time
Marcus Pike is perfect.
He’s your dream man.
He’s sweet. He brings you flowers just because, and he’s remembered your go-to coffee order, and he never goes to bed without texting you goodnight.
He’s effortlessly kind. He offers to walk your dog for you when you aren’t feeling well enough to get out of bed, and he always does the dishes when you cook for him, and he makes sure his bathroom is stocked with all the personal products you use at your own place.
He’s fucking handsome. His smile is straight and pearly white, and his big brown eyes warm you up, and the way his broad shoulders fill out those suits he wears to work never fails to make you weak in the knees.
He’s so smart, and he’s so funny, and he’s all yours… finally.
See, when he hadn’t so much as kissed you by your third date, you wigged out a bit.
How could you not? He’d been so thoughtful and caring and all you wanted was to feel those pillowy, soft lips against your own.
So you asked him what was up, and he told you.
Divorced. Broken engagement. A whole year of therapy to pinpoint what went wrong, what he could change, and how he could do better, how he could feel better. And then, he said, he found you— like fate— when he wasn’t even looking, when he least expected it.
You had no problem taking it slow. You’re still convinced you’d wait forever for him, as perfect as he is.
After too many little dates to count, he told you he wanted to be your boyfriend, if you’d have him.
You told him you’d love for him to be your boyfriend, of course. You’d be crazy not too.
And then he finally kissed you.
It was slow and hesitant, but it still made your heart race, made your stomach do flips. He cut it off before it could become anything more than chaste, and left your front door with a sheepish goodnight.
You’ve kissed a lot since then. You never really enjoyed kissing that much, before. It always just seemed like a means to and end, a formality before moving on to other things.
But now it’s one of your favorite ways to pass the time with him. Waiting for an Uber to take you downtown, finally getting to his place on Friday after a long work week, cuddling in bed together with an old movie playing.
You haven’t made out with anyone this much since high school. And you enjoy it, you do, but Jesus Christ, he’s been your boyfriend for three weeks now and you need him.
It doesn’t help that he touches you like you’re the last person on earth. His hands are so big and they’re gentle and electric when they find the bit of skin just under the hem of your shirt.
You think it’s going to happen, this time. Friday night takeout has long been abandoned in the living room. You’re in his bed, in his clothes, and his pinky is teasing at the waistband of his sweats that you’re wearing.
His tongue in your mouth is making you dizzy, and there’s no more blood in your brain with all of it rushing between your legs. You whimper, and you arch against him, and you want him so bad but you can’t say it. You’d feel bad, making him rush when he’s made it clear he wants to take things slow.
When his lips leave yours, you open your eyes, and find his pupils obstructing all the deep, dark brown you adore.
You have to squeeze your thighs together for a miniscule amount of relief. He notices. Of course he does. Damn that Quantico training.
“Sweetheart—”
His eyes flicker down to your lips. You’re sure they look obscene, red and slick from nearly an hour of him sucking and nibbling on them.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper.
You don’t know why you say it, but you are sorry. You feel so bad for wanting him like this, desperate and aching in his bed, over eager.
“Don’t be,” he shakes his head and gives you a reluctant smile, a smile that tells you you’re going to fall asleep extremely sexually frustrated.
But it’s fine. He’s so worth it.
You give him a soft smile back, and lean in to peck his lips. But he pulls away with his brow furrowed.
“What do you want?”
His voice is gentle when he asks. So is his hand on your back, under his shirt you’ve claimed. But it doesn’t stop that fight or flight response from kicking in.
“Nothing! Nothing, Marcus, I’m okay— I’m great. Just wanna cuddle.”
But the creases in his forehead don’t smooth out, and his hand ceases the soothing circles across your spine.
“You’re lying.”
You sigh and close your eyes.
“I’m not lying, I’m just— I don’t want to push you to move too fast.”
You expect him to be angry. But when you open your eyes again, his own have taken on that puppy-like quality you usually love. Right now, it just makes you feel guilty.
“I’ve been lying, too,” Marcus whispers.
It’s your turn to scrunch your face up. Your blood runs cold, waiting for him to elaborate. A million scenarios run through your head at lighting speed— all worse and worse until your breathing picks up and you beg him with your eyes to just get on with it—
“I have a small dick.”
His face is so flushed. He can’t meet your gaze.
He’s staring at the bedsheets between you, and you’re both just silent for a long, awkward moment.
“I mean— the divorce and all that, it’s all true. And I did want to keep from moving too fast. But— the last few weeks I guess I’ve just been… stalling?”
He finally looks up from the threads to gauge your reaction.
“Marcus…”
“I get it, okay? If you wanna go. I know I lied, and you didn’t sign up for—“
“Marcus.”
You watch his shoulders raise and his mouth snap shut, and he looks terrified.
“I don’t want to leave. You didn’t lie. It’s just— you really think that would bother me?”
He lets out a big breath, and the tension in his body eases up a little.
“I don’t know. Most people were… bothered. I guess,” he shrugs.
You cradle his jaw in your hand, let the day-old stubble tickle the pad of your thumb as you think about how to best navigate this conversation.
Because saying ‘I don’t care’ seems too dismissive. But you don’t. You couldn’t possibly care less about what’s in his pants, when everything else about him has made you fall so, so deep already. But you don’t want to make it sound like it’s something you have to even bargain with, like the pros outweigh the cons, like it even is a con. Because it’s not.
“I’m not bothered,” you finally tell him.
He still doesn’t meet your eyes, in fact, he rolls his.
“You don’t have to lie to me. It’s okay, I’ve heard it all. I know I’ve lead you on—”
“Jesus,” you cut him off, “what did— who made you feel this way?”
He finally looks at you. His eyes are wide and he looks vulnerable and hesitant. You swipe away some hair that’s fallen flat across his scrunched forehead.
“Everyone?”
You sigh his name, and you’re tentative when you lean forward to kiss him, softly, when he lets you.
He looks less terrified when you pull back. You try to smile, but this whole interaction has left such a bad taste in your mouth that it feels more like a grimace when your lips turn up.
“That’s— Fucking awful, to be frank. Pardon my French.”
He chuckles, but his gaze falls away from your face again. His sheets are not that interesting to look at.
“Really, Marcus. I mean— maybe if someone’s just looking for a hookup, then I get it. You want something specific, whatever. But why would you ever think you were leading me on?
All you’ve done is be sweet to me, and shown interest in me, and taken care of me. Unless you’re like, secretly an ax murderer, or committing some kind of major tax fraud, you haven’t led me on at all.”
He’s still not looking at you. Why won’t he look at you, and believe you?
“I don’t want to sound dismissive. I understand you’re insecure about it. I’m insecure about some things too. I don’t want to invalidate that. But I need you to know that the last thing I care about is how big your dick is.”
There. He’s looking at you. He looks a little mortified, but he’s finally meeting your gaze.
“Really?”
You scoff.
“Really really.”
A reluctant smile tugs on the corner of his pretty mouth.
“Why?”
“Because— now, don’t go getting a big head about this— you’re perfect. Like, everything about you. You’re sweet and you make me laugh and you’re gorgeous.”
His face flushes, but he lets you continue.
“And I’m in this, with you. I want this to go somewhere. And I think we’re super compatible.”
“Me too,” he whispers.
“Good, so… we’re on the same page then.”
You watch him lick his lips, and his hand that’s been loosely draped over your waist finally starts back up, drawing little circles across the base of your spine.
“And… There’s other reasons,” you mumble, voice low with a hint of mischief.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah… For one, your hands.”
“My hands?”
He emphasizes his question with a squeeze of your hip, and you giggle at the way it tickles, and also with a bit of embarrassment.
“Yeah… They’re uh… big. I look at them a lot. Honestly surprised you haven’t noticed.”
He huffs, lets his big hand travel further up the shirt on your back.
“Your nails are always trimmed, and— your fingers are long and thick. I’ve thought about them a lot.”
He breathes your name, and now you realize you’re the one avoiding eye contact. When you look back, his pupils are all blown out again, and it spurs you on.
“And I love to give head.”
“Jesus.”
“And the bigger it is, the quicker I get tired. I could stay down there all night, if my jaw didn’t get sore.”
“Sweetheart—”
“Really, it’s one of my favorite things, making someone fall apart under my mouth. But I hate gagging and choking my way through it. It’s tedious.”
He says your name again, this time with a warning tone.
You bite your lip to keep anything from tumbling from your mouth unwarranted.
“You’re not lying.”
His eyes dart back and forth across your face, and you shake your head in lieu of opening your mouth again.
“Fuck.”
It’s the first time Marcus has cursed in front of you. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and your clit throbs.
“I’ve thought about you so much. Your lips, you have to know, right? How plump and full they are… I think about them at night, when I’m touching myself.”
That’s convincing enough, apparently. Before you can embarrass yourself any further with your confessions, he surges forward to press those plush lips against yours and groans into your mouth.
His hand flattens against your back and pulls, manhandling you closer to him. Your fingers find his silky hair and tangle in the strands, holding on for dear life at this shift between the two of you.
You can’t muster up an ounce of shame. Finally, you have Marcus where you want him, pressed against you. You hike a leg over one of his, getting it between your thighs for even the smallest amount of friction.
You feel him gasp, chest inflating to press even closer against yours. It’s a rush, finally getting this after waiting so long.
Your hands scramble to get under his white t-shirt. His skin is hot, even against your sweaty palms. There’s so much to feel, the slight swell of his stomach, and the muscle of his flank, the soft but firm pecs.
You whine when he pulls away from your lips. He shushes you gently, and you open your eyes to watch his slick lips and his hooded eyes and flushed face disappear briefly, just quick enough to shed his shirt.
Smooth, is the first thing that comes to mind. His tan skin has no hair above his belly button, just the errant freckle here and there. His nipples are peaked, and you reach out to press your thumb against one before your mind catches up to the action, before you realize you’re gawking.
But when your hand stutters against his skin and you look up at him, he’s smirking, amused and turned on. You falter a bit, mouth open while you search for something to say, some sort of excuse as to why you’re devouring him like you’re starved.
He saves you though, with his low, grumbled voice.
“I think about you, too. All the time.”
You dig your nails into his soft skin at his admission, scraping against his chest.
“You know that? You think I haven’t had you a million different ways in my head?”
Your heart stops beating, and you stop breathing, and the heat between your legs only gets heavier and wetter.
“You want me to show you, sweetheart?”
Your heartbeat comes back as a rush in your ears, and you squeeze the meat of his pec as you nod.
He kisses you again, licks at your lips until you suck his tongue into your mouth, and now it’s just filthy. No more pretense, it’s been months of pretense, and neither of you have any more patience.
His fingers seek out your own nipple, a tight bud protruding through cloth, and he rolls it between his fingers gently over the material of his shirt.
“You come over and wear my clothes like this, and you think you don’t drive me crazy?”
The words are grumbled into your mouth, against your cheek, then your jaw and your neck as he seeks out more of you to kiss.
“I don’t wash them when you leave. I wear them and I smell you all day and it makes me feel insane.”
You mewl at his admission. Everything he says now is so fucking raw, now that you’ve broken down his walls. He shushes you again, grabs the hem of his shirt to help you pull it over your head.
He curses when he sees you. It’s the first time. You’ve both been toeing this line of modesty, and maybe you’d be more nervous if you weren’t careening toward the pleasure he’s promised you.
He coaxes you to lie on your back beside him, and his mouth works a slow trail down the side of your neck, nipping and suckling until he finally gets your nipple in his mouth. You arch into it, encouraging him with a hand tangled in his thick hair. You feel his groan reverberating around your rib cage when you scrape your nails back and forth across his scalp. You need him, like nothing you’ve ever craved before.
“Marcus—”
“I know, I know.”
His syrupy voice isn’t as soothing as his lips, though, when he cranes his neck back up to kiss you again. He nips there, a sneaky distraction from the way his fingers trail down to circle your navel, and then even farther, teasing the hem of his sweatpants you’re wearing. His featherlight touch makes you jolt when it finally registers, your stomach jumping under his fingers.
“Can I?”
You’re nodding against his lips, into the kiss, and then whining when his hand breaches the waistband. Those thick, long fingers flutter across your mound. Your breath catches on every wiggle. But when his fingers splay out, half on one side of your slit and half on the other, teasing your lips, you exhale hard and press up into his touch.
“Oh, are you that sensitive?”
His voice is half-teasing, half-shocked, as he mumbles into the tingling skin of your neck.
“It’s just you.”
And it’s true. There’s no ego-stroking here. You’ve waited too long to get this and now you’re fiending, any touch is a relief.
And he’s huffing into that skin under your ear, like you’re playing it up too much, but he bites down on the skin anyway and groans.
“So sweet, huh?”
You make a disgruntled noise but there’s not enough blood in your brain to get your point across. Instead, you wrap your hand around his meaty forearm and force his fingers lower, where you know your underwear is a soaking, sticky mess.
He curses and pulls away from his assault on your neck to look at you. You’re certain you know what he sees, blown out pupils and sweat-slick forehead and bitten, shiny lips.
“That’s all for me?”
There’s a sly smile tugging at one side of his mouth, just barely there, but you see it in the way one dimple grows more than the other. You nod in answer, scrape your nails up the hair on his arm and watch him shudder.
But he retreats from between your legs, and chuckles when you squeeze his forearm tighter in protest. The sound makes you shiver, all low and gruff and teasing. But he softens the blow with another one of his kisses, heated and sloppy and needy. His hands, always so gentle and careful and big, find the creases between your hips and thighs. It makes you arch up into the touch and whimper again, and you wonder briefly if you’ll ever not be desperate for him again.
He watches your face twist up when he pulls away from you, watches the way your breasts move with every heave of your lungs. His dark eyes travel lower, where his thumbs sear circles into your hips, and his tongue swipes across his lower lip.
“Can I take these off, sweetheart?”
The tenderness in his voice fills you with a completely different warmth, white hot flames simmering into a blaze of feelings you aren’t sure you’ve ever truly experienced before. You let it consume you.
“Yes, please.”
He hums a satisfied little noise as his fingers hook under the waistband. He takes his time, making sure to catch your underwear as well. It’s a sight, his huge hands working your only remaining cover down, down, until you’re bare to him and he’s gently cradling each of your calves to fully remove the last of your clothes.
Those hands work their way back up, attentive, memorizing the valleys and peaks of your flesh, the nuances of your skin, the way it bends over your joints. Before you know it, he’s propped himself up beside you once again, one arm supporting his weight so his other hand can work its way between your thighs.
You drag your eyes away from his fingers to look at him, only to find him focused on your face.
It’s a few long moments before either of you move or speak or breathe. It’s you who breaks the spell, only because you know you’re at the very edge of control.
“You sure you’re ready?”
You reach up to cradle his neck in your hand. It’s hot to the touch, and so are his ears, the tips of them burning a cute pink where your thumb grazes them. His eyes get softer and crinkle even more around the edges.
“I’m positive… can’t believe I psyched myself out for so long.”
He huffs and shakes his head at himself. You’re ready to kiss that apprehension away again, but his hand on your thigh pulls, as gentle as everything else he’s done, to spread yourself open for him.
The cool air makes your breath catch in your throat. Or maybe it’s the anticipation. So close to what you’ve thought about every single night for weeks. Months– since the day you first met, if you’re being honest.
He keeps his eyes on you, and you hold his gaze even though it burns. But only until his fingers brush you. Your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling, mouth open wide in shock at how electric just one simple touch feels.
His finger glides so easily around your opening, and you hear him gasp as he explores all the slick.
“You’re soaked.”
His voice is thick with awe, as another finger joins in on the fun, gathering up your arousal. But they don’t breach, and you feel like he’s teasing, readying a whine in protest.
The noise gets stuck in your throat when they trail up, gliding through your swollen folds. They find your clit, full and begging for attention, and circle with hardly any pressure.
Oh, he’s fucking good at this.
There’s no apprehension in his movements. It’s like he’s read a fucking manual on how to press all your buttons. The light, slick touches are building up that heat in your gut quicker than you can ever remember with anyone else.
You’re stunned silent, eyes pinched shut and your head tilted back into the mattress, digging in for even an ounce of grounding.
“That feel good, sweetheart?”
Your vocal chords come back to life, finally, as you whimper from the gentle drag of his fingers.
“You have no idea.”
He chuckles, and you open your eyes to see his own still trained on your face.
“I think I do,” he mumbles.
He shifts, presses his hips into you, and the hard line of him digs into your side.
You clench around nothing, and your clit pulses under the pads of his fingers. He curses and responds to the needy little bud, applying more pressure and speeding up those little circles.
All the while he grinds his hips into you, soft little movements that sync up with his hand, and you want him so bad. You’re losing patience by the second, the only thing keeping you from pouncing is the way his fingers work you over so perfectly it’s like you’re touching yourself.
You’re not, though, and that becomes perfectly clear when one thick, long finger presses lower and slips into you. It slides so easily, despite how much girth it has on one of your own. You both make stuttered noises at the feeling, and Marcus’ lips capture your own to let them mingle together.
Your hips egg him on, lifting and shifting, but he is teasing now. It’s a slow drag in and out, his finger pin straight, and if he hadn’t been so diligent this entire time you’d think he didn’t know what he was doing.
But you whine, a soft plea of his name into his mouth, and he obliges. That thick finger crooks up, just as the heel of his hand flattens against your clit, and stars bloom behind your eyelids.
You groan, and he laps it up before his lips leave yours.
“That’s it. This what you needed?”
A pathetic whimper comes out in response as you nod your head. His finger presses harder into that perfect spot, and his palm slides over your wet clit. You’re clenching around him, savoring the feeling of being filled by him, working your hips down and back to meet his motions. It grows and grows, that feeling in your gut, so close that you can’t be bothered to worry about what needy noises you’re making.
He mutters another frantic curse, and his hips jump to press his cock into you harder.
“I gotta taste you, sweetheart. Can I? Will you let me?”
You nod so fast you’re surprised your head doesn’t detach from your neck. He soothes that frenzied part of your brain with another kiss, slips his finger out of you, and moves to get between your legs.
You thread your fingers through his hair to keep him still, even if it’s just for a moment. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and the drag of his sweatpants across your sensitive center makes you arch up into him for more, to seek out more friction.
He just huffs a laugh against your lips and angles his hips away, denying you the simple pleasure of grinding against the tent in his pants.
“Not yet. Let me take my time with you. You’ve waited so long, right? I’ll make it up to you, you just gotta let me.”
You huff.
You should’ve known Marcus would be just as much of an infuriating tease in the bedroom as he is outside of it. The trivia dates and the cocky smirk he always sported when he won, the little bets he’d make on how a movie’s plot was going to twist, the refusal to ever let you pay for dinner— it’s all adding up now, and you can’t believe you didn’t expect it.
Marcus Pike is a smug little prick underneath the humble, sheepish grins, and it’s hot and it’s yours.
“Put your money where your mouth is,” you breathe.
He chuckles and trails said mouth down the length of your naked body. You watch his plump lips explore your skin and leave wet patches littered in their wake, shiny little stakes claiming you. His five o’clock shadow is just long enough to abrade your skin a bit, delightful little pricks that make your muscles jump involuntarily.
He makes it to your mound before looking up at you. His brown eyes are mostly obstructed by his pupils, but they shine all glassy in the dim lamplight of his bedroom. His shitty grin has faded and he looks determined, and it steals the breath from your lungs.
He teases some more, of course he does. His lips peck and tickle the creases of your thighs, the skin of your outer lips, and the very tip of your hood before you finally see his pink tongue slip out.
All of a sudden you can’t watch, can only let your head fall back and close your eyes and drown in the anticipation.
The pointed tip of his tongue just barely grazes you, tracing a razor-thin line from your dripping hole all the way to your mound. It tickles, and your breath comes in faster as he does it again, and again, and again.
Just before you can beg for more, he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit. He laps at your folds, slow and calculated, and the satisfied noises tumble out of you as you feel his taste buds glide against you.
All you can think to do is find his hair and use it to hang on. Your legs spread wider, and he takes the encouragement. His tongue finds your clit, so swollen and sensitive with need by now. He circles it, then wiggles his tongue back and forth, playing with it, playing with you. He shakes his head from side to side to give you more, presses even more firmly, and the heavy feeling in your gut tightens tenfold.
Your hips start to move on their own, rocking up into his face, helping his motions along. He groans with it, muffled and wet between your legs.
A delirious thought gets stuck in your horny brain. You don’t know how you’ll ever let him leave this spot between your legs now that you’ve finally got him here. It’s so wet and warm and incredible, and your nails dig into his scalp to drive the point home, to try and lock him here forever.
His voice snaps you from your reverent thoughts, thick and deep.
“Fuck, sweetheart. You taste so good, looks so fucking pretty.”
You brave a glance down at him, his red soaked mouth and his dark eyes that are boring holes into your pussy. One of his hands releases its grip on your thigh to glide across the dripping mess of your center. He toys with you, spreading you open with splayed fingers, watching the way your folds bend to his whim. With it exposed and protruding and aching for his touch, he leans down to wrap his plush lips around your clit and suckle. Curses fly from your lips at the concentrated attention, and it’s so so so fucking good you’re sure you’re going combust.
His hand slips lower, and his mouth doesn’t stop, and you’re dangerously close to tipping over the edge. And then two thick fingers slip easily into you, immediately seeking out that spot inside you and tapping there.
It’s blinding pressure overwhelming the two places you need him most. He drums up a rhythm that would remind you of a dance, maybe, if your brain were cognitive enough to form a coherent thought. Down with his head, engulfing your clit, and up with his fingers, squeezing that spongy spot inside you. Over and over, he works you with soft grunts against your cunt until your fingers lock up in his hair and your hips start to shake.
“Please don’t stop,” you pant, “I’m so close.”
To his credit, and this is more than you can say for the majority of men you’ve been with, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down, nor does he speed up. He keeps at you exactly how you need it, moaning strung-out little noises into your center until you’re dropping.
All the wind is knocked out of you. Your hips jolt into his face and he takes it in stride, lapping at your clit when the seal of his lips is broken from your erratic movements. You tremble through it, clench around his fingers, and squeeze his head between your thighs as you ride it out on his tongue.
As the shivers roll through you, Marcus’ fingers slow, and though he can’t remove his tongue from you because of how your legs have him in a headlock, he stills his tongue so you can take the last bit of what you need from him.
His breathing is just as heavy as yours, wheezing out moans and muffled words of encouragement. When you feel yourself slipping down from your peak, you let go of the death grip on his hair, and open your legs, and grant yourself a few deep breaths before you dare to look down at him.
He carefully, cautiously pulls his fingers out of you. A comforting ‘shhh’ is cooed into the sweaty skin of your thigh when you make a strangled sound. Both of his hands splay out on either hip, a light and grounding touch accompanied by the kisses he’s dropping all over the skin he can reach.
Finally, you grant yourself a peek down at him. The first thing you notice is how his broad shoulders are, heaving with baited breath. Then, his normally pristine hair, sticking out every which way and then some from your frantic fingers.
His face is red, you guess from exertion. Or maybe you really did restrict some blood flow. Christ. That’s what he gets, being so goddamn good at that.
And then his lips. His lips. Those lips that up until now you’ve only ever kissed or dreamed of. They’re even more plump, swollen and slick with you, shining just like his chin is.
You don’t know what to say. You know you want to kiss him. Funny, considering that’s how all this started, but you’re dying to see what you taste like on him.
Luckily, he breaks the silence, after licking those delectable lips and clearing his throat.
“So… How’d it compare?”
Your face contorts on its own, surprised at the sudden and intrusive question.
“Pardon?”
But then he laughs, pressing those wet dimples into your heated skin to hide them.
“To all those thoughts you told me about. How’d I do?”
You laugh too then, a weary huff of breath as you sit up.
“Don’t go fishing for compliments,” you tease, though there’s not much heat behind it with how out of breath you still are.
He goes to respond, but you get a hand in his hair again and coax him up. You meet him halfway, swallowing his surprised noise when you finally get those pillowy lips against yours and lick at them, his tongue, his teeth, until you aren’t sure what taste is you and what is him. Until you realize you’re flat on your back again as he hovers over you, still between your thighs.
You both hum when the kiss breaks, and you rest your forehead against his, nuzzle his nose and sigh at the floaty feeling in your limbs.
“Better,” you whisper.
You feel his grin bump into your own. You nip at it, playful and languid as you finally begin to get some of your bearings back.
And then you’re shocked back into the realization that there’s all this smooth skin right in front of you, this hunk of a man hovering above, the one who just melted your brain into a fuzzy little mold of itself. You grab his hips as he licks into your mouth and scrape your nails up his flanks, unhurried, while the touch makes him shiver.
You feel out the strength in his pecs, those broad shoulders you often daydream about, and then you push. Catching him off guard, he gasps as he loses his balance and tumbles to the side, and then laughs when you press him into the mattress and straddle his hips.
You laugh along with him, but it slowly tapers off as his hands find your naked skin— your stomach and hips and back and then your ass, where it hovers just above that bulge in his sweatpants.
He’s looking up at you with what you can only describe as horny apprehension.
His eyelids droop over his dilated pupils, but his brow is all pinched up in the middle. His mouth hangs open, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.
So you kiss him, soft and gentle, as gentle as he’s been with you all night. His sigh washes heat across your cheeks, and you feel him relax under you just a little.
But then you shift in his grasp, lower your ass, and press your soaking center to his crotch. You whimper at the feeling of his sweatpants dragging across your sensitive, wet cunt. He moans and bites at your bottom lip maybe a little too hard.
But it’s okay. He pulls away and pants your name and you settle there, your weight pressed down on his cock. Your lips find that smooth patch in his stubble, biting that chiseled jaw, licking down the curve of his neck, his shoulder, up to his ear. You delight in every goosebump you draw, and breathe in his scent before you speak up.
“Will you let me suck it?”
All his breath rushes out in a big gust. His fingertips dig into your naked sides, and he nods.
“Please.”
It’s a barely-there whisper. You pull away from that silky soft skin where his pulse is hammering to check his reaction.
He’s begging with his eyes. It makes you smirk, sitting up straighter, trailing your fingers down the front of his body until you reach the drawstring of his sweatpants.
You’re still sitting on his groin, though. You give a little playful wiggle, and his hips rock up to grind harder. But you don’t want to tease any more. Every moment spent teasing him, you’re also denying yourself, and you’ve been patient for long enough.
So you shift down the bed, nestled between his legs, and get to work on the tie of his pants. Every time your fingertips brush the hair below his belly button, he sucks in a breath. You finally get the thing untied, and look up one last time for permission before you start to drag the material down, grabbing his boxers as you go.
Your eyes stay trained on his face instead of staring at his crotch, especially as he wiggles a bit and lifts his legs to remove his pants. You don’t want to stare, and you also don’t want to not look, you don’t want him to be uncomfortable at all with you.
You want it to be perfect. You want to make him feel the way he makes you feel.
He nods his head, and you cease averting your eyes to trail down his body, the bushy happy trail and the neatly trimmed hair above his cock and his cock.
His little cock.
It is, indeed, on the smaller side. Probably one of the smallest you’ve seen in real life. Three and half or four inches long, if you had to guess.
And it’s so pretty, cut and on the thicker side, the slightest upward curve that makes your pussy tighten around nothing.
You dive right in, press your nose to all the hair while you kiss at the base of him, humming when his cock twitches against the side of your face. He smells so good and clean, like always, but down here there’s even more of that Marcus smell that always lingers beneath his soap and cologne, salty and warm.
When you drag your eyes up to him, his head’s thrown back against the pillows, not looking at you. You want him to look, you want him to see how much you’re going to enjoy this.
You’ll make him look, one way or another.
For now, you just lathe your tongue up the underside of him, then back down to tickle his balls, all the while enjoying how his prick jerks under the attention.
He’s making little noises, mostly puffs of breath and gasps, and his hands twist up in the sheets beside you. You grab one of them, slow and steady, and lead it to the back of your head.
And then, you finally get your lips wrapped around the head of his dick, and you slowly sink down until he’s entirely in your mouth.
It’s not until your nose presses against the flatness above his cock do you hear him release a strangled groan. That’s when you look back up at him and find him staring down, mouth agape, locked on your mouthful of him.
You pull back up, wiggling your tongue as you go, memorizing the ridges and hairs and veins. Your eyes are locked on his, and his are locked on your lips, so you try to give him a show.
You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, nod your head up and down to let his cockhead tickle your tastebuds. A gruff noise leaves him, hearty and hoarse, and you want to smile but you’re not in a position to.
Instead, you flick your tongue against that little band of tissue just under his slit, and his hips stutter as his grip on the back of your head tightens.
“Fuck, sweetheart.”
Now you do smile, your lips upturned against the head of his cock, and it jerks against your mouth while you kiss it, until you envelop it once more.
You hum around him, at the weighted feeling of him occupying your mouth, how smooth it feels against your tongue and how nice it is to take him all the way in and not gag or choke or drool.
It makes your cunt ache, makes you crave him even more, makes you want to be full of him everywhere.
You reach a hand down to touch yourself. You’re still dripping, can feel it all slipping from your entrance and cooling your skin in the air conditioning. You’ve had just enough time to recover from the mess Marcus made of you. You’re sensitive but not too sensitive, when you trace your clit with your fingertips and moan around the mouthful of cock.
“Oh fuck, are you touching yourself?”
Your eyes flicker open and look up to him. He’s clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth as his nostrils flare. You hum and nod your head to answer, his cock slipping back and forth through the ring of your lips. He whimpers, and his head tips back against the mattress again, and it makes you speed up the efforts on both him and yourself.
He curses, soft little chants, kneading the back of your neck in his big hand as you suck him in over and over. You close your eyes and lose yourself in it for a bit, the way he slips so easily in and out, the way his hips move just a little, like he’s trying not to but he can’t help it. The sounds, his grunts and your sloppy mouth and your fingers working over your slick folds.
He says your name.
You hum, use your free hand to play with the fuzzy skin of his balls.
He says your name again, and this time it’s urgent, almost panicked.
“Sweetheart, stop, please.”
You do, immediately. You open your mouth wide and let him fall from your lips and unhand him while you look at his exerted face.
“Are you okay?”
He huffs, and his cock bobs beside your face.
“I’m so okay. I just— did you want me to…? It’s okay if you don’t, I just didn’t want it to be over—”
“Marcus.”
His heated babbling stops as he clamps his mouth shut. His broad shoulders lift and drop with his heading breath.
“Do you want to fuck me?”
You smooth your hands across the scattered hair on his thighs when you ask. His prick twitches again at your question.
“I— Yeah. Yes. I do.”
He looks almost guilty about it, with his wide eyes and the bashful expression spreading across his face.
“I want you to fuck me so bad,” you tell him, “I’ve wanted it for way too long.”
His breath leaves him in a shuddery exhale, something like relief or awe.
“Yeah? You still want it?”
His hand skates from the back of your neck to your jaw, his thumb brushing the apple of your cheek.
“Please, Marcus. Give it to me.”
You turn your head to kiss his thumb, a sloppy little peck before you take it into your mouth. You smile around it when he groans, and bite it before it slips away.
“Can you get on the edge of the bed for me?”
You can, but not without throwing a cheeky ‘yes sir’ his way. You’re not sure if the noise he makes is from arousal or a lack of amusement, but there will be plenty of time to explore that later.
For now, you do as he says. You scoot so your ass is just about to fall off the side of his bed. The wooden bed frame is the perfect height to rest your heels on, and as Marcus slips a pillow under your head, you’re as comfortable as ever.
The mattress dips when he gets up to stand in front of you. The lamplight from the nightstand is really doing things for him. The slight sheen of sweat on his chest glistens, as does the wetness at his temples where his hair is starting to curl up. All those lean muscles have never been more apparent than they are now, the golden glow creating beautiful shadows across his naked body.
He’s so hot.
It doesn’t help that his big, warm hands snake up your bare thighs as he gets between them. His small dick stands at attention, pointing toward the ceiling, and you feel your pussy spasm with anticipation.
“Please,” you whisper.
He nods, steps closer as you spread your legs wider and wiggle even further off the bed.
“Perfect, sweetheart.”
He leans over you with one hand on the bed to brace himself. The other is wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, and he looks down to watch it as he glides it through your slit.
“Are you ready?”
You nod and hum your affirmative. He takes the go-ahead and his cockhead slides across your clit, down, so slowly, until it catches on the rim of your hole and you both gasp at the feeling.
You look down to watch too, lifting up on your elbows to see the moment your pussy lets him sink inside, fluttering around him, engulfing his prick one inch at a time.
You knew it. You fucking knew his cock was perfect but still you’re shocked at the way the curve makes him drag across your upper wall. And when his hips are flush with yours, all that pressure is concentrated at that bundle of nerve endings inside of you, and you’re going to lose your mind if he doesn’t move.
“Oh fuck.”
You let yourself flop back in the bed, but reach for his hand that’s supporting his weight. Your nails scrabble for purchase against the skin of his wrist as you curse again, your walls contracting around him as you tense.
“Fuck, Marcus, please.”
You’re so far past caring about how desperate you sound. You need him, the textbook definition of it; it’s an absolute necessity that he fucks you.
He curses, and you realize you’ve closed your eyes. When you open them, his jaw is hanging and he’s looking at you, your face, like it’s something he’s never seen before. Like he’s shocked you’re here in front of him.
But his hips are still, and you’re helpless to the way your own cant up to urge him, and finally he’s pulling back out. The slow drag against the most tender spot inside you rips a noise from your throat, involuntary. He pulls almost all the way out, until the head of his dick is kissing your opening and you can feel how he stretches the tight ring of muscles.
And then in again, almost as slowly, and you’re already out of breath. The feeling steals all the wind from your lungs. It’s setting you on fire, perfect friction against just the right spot, the one that’s still tender and alight from your previous orgasm.
“It’s so fucking good,” you manage to choke out.
Marcus moans above you, and his hips snap into you, and his free hand finds your waist so he can dig his nails into your flesh.
“It is, fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking good.”
A bead of sweat drips from his nose and lands on your belly, and that seems to make you snap out of it.
“Fuck me. Fuck me hard, please, make me come.”
You watch his mouth quirk up into a pretty smirk, dimples on full display.
“Yes ma’am.”
Your giggles only last for a moment, dissolving into a high whine when he slides out of you and back in, a harsh thrust of his hips that doesn’t let up.
He fucks you. You try to watch; it’s too hot not to. His biceps flex respectively, one with his effort to hold himself above you, and the other where he holds you in place by your waist.
His neck, the one vein there that’s protruding as he bares his teeth. The way his chest is rapidly rising and falling as he drives into you. His big brown eyes, even darker now as he succumbs to the feeling of you.
But you just can’t keep your eyes open for long. It feels too good, you’re too close to the edge. Your insides are so tender and alight from the first time you came. Every single thrust inside you is taking you apart and building your second so quickly. Your eyelids droop closed and there’s already stars blooming behind them.
His little noises are louder, like this. Grunts and gasps and moans, falling over you, all for you.
“Fuck, I’m so close,” you warn him.
Your back arches to encourage his pace. His skin slaps into yours faster as he groans.
“Thank god, me too. What do you need, sweetheart?”
Without a verbal answer to his strained question, you slip your hand down to press against your throbbing clit.
“Shit, yeah, play with your pussy for me. I wanna— fuck— let me see you come. Looks so gorgeous.”
His voice is thick in his throat, and you work your fingers over yourself faster. You’re clenching wildly around him, you can’t help it. Every thrust in sets your nerves on fire, almost too much, but not quite. His grunts are turning into growls, uninhibited and primal. You feel the mattress shift and open your eyes to find him standing up straight.
Both hands grab your hips now, and that little angle change makes him grind even harder into your g-spot, and you’re tumbling over the edge. It’s been building under the surface for so long that when it hits, it’s blinding. There’s static in your toes that washes over you, up, up, dragging a fiery heat with it that consumes your center and makes your head fuzzy.
There’s screaming.
You’re screaming. Your eyes are clenched so tight, as are your fingers, all your joints, your pussy, around Marcus as he fucks you through it with sloppy thrusts.
“That’s it, oh my god, sweetheart, you— fuck. I’m gonna come, I’m— where?”
“In me.”
Your throat is scratchy when you answer, and you don’t have any time to elaborate on why that’s not a bad idea. You’re still coming, wave after wave of warmth rolling across your body, and you’re vaguely aware of how wet everything is, the sound of him fucking you even more obscene.
His shout doesn’t quite rival yours, but you feel it when he empties inside of you. His cock jerks and and twitches, wringing out every little bit of pleasure from you, and you think you’re still coming, the pinpricks of pleasure are still too intense to be aftershocks.
He stays pressed as deep as he can be as his stomach convulses and his thighs shake, just like yours do where they’ve somehow wrapped around him. Your eyes open again, and the lamplight is so bright now, his breathing is so loud. He grunts and pulls out a bit, then presses back in, and again, until it falters and his whole body slumps.
His top half collapses onto you, his little breaths huff and tickle the tingling skin of your belly. Your own breath comes out in a weak moan, and it takes all the strength you can muster just to run your fingers through his sweaty hair.
“Jesus,” he says.
Your name cascading off his lips in such a strung out voice that it makes you clench around him again.
“Huh?”
God, how are you ever going to move again?
“You uh… Is that a common occurrence?”
Christ, why is he using such big words?
“What are you talking about?”
He clears his throat.
“You like— You squirted?”
You laugh, one delirious huff. It makes his head rock on your jiggling belly.
“I what?”
You gather the will to look down at him. His mouth is open, surprised and amused, and his eyes are shiny and bright.
“Yeah, like, a lot.”
He’s still inside you but softening, and his own chuckles make him slip out.
You lift up on your elbows as he stands up straight and the evidence is clear. The hair above his dick and high on his thighs is all dark and soaked.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
The sheets on the edge of the bed are absolutely ruined, and you pray he’s one of those men that has a mattress protector. You’re more than a little mortified, and the way he’s staring at you, silent, is beginning to make you squirmy.
“What?”
“Why do you seem so surprised?”
His fingertips are feather-light across your thighs, and you shiver.
“I’ve never actually… done that? I would have warned you.”
He makes a pained sound, and those fingertips turn into a tight grip just above your knees.
He doesn’t speak up. Instead, he lies on the bed beside you. He holds himself by his elbow, but that hand strokes your scalp while the other traces up and down your thigh, your hips, your breasts, anything he can reach. You avoid the topic at hand to relax into it, and you think you’re finally coming down as that boneless feeling washes over you.
You’re vaguely aware of his cum dripping out of you, but the sheets are a lost cause anyway. You just watch his lax face, the way the wrinkles in his brow are all smoothed out, the way his eyes follow the patterns he’s drawing on your body.
He catches you staring. His gaze meets yours and he smiles and it’s sunny. It warms you through, despite all the sweat that’s cooling on your body.
“Hi,” he whispers.
You giggle, and he does too. He tries to hold it in by biting his lip, but it’s no use. You will your exhausted bones to shift and face him, and he presses his lips to yours and they meld together.
It’s languid, unhurried, just reacquainting after too long apart. It feels a little goofy, with how you’re both smiling so wide, but it calms you into settling down after such a high.
Both of your breathing seems even, when you part.
“That was—”
“It’s never—”
You both chuckle.
“Ladies first.”
You feel shy now. You can’t imagine why, but a fluttery feeling overtakes your stomach.
“I was just gonna say… That was better than all those times I imagined it.”
You didn’t think it was possible, but his smile grows even wider. His eyes flicker from yours to the sheets between you, and you think maybe he feels as bashful as you do.
“It’s never been that good.”
A sigh escapes him when he speaks, and his nervous gaze lands on you when his face falls into something more earnest.
It takes your breath away. Because it’s never been that good for you either, and isn’t that such a perfect coincidence?
You tug him to you by the back of his neck, eat up the surprised little sound he makes against your mouth.
“When can we go again?”
#Pedro pascal#Pedro pascal x reader#Pedro pascal smut#Pedro pascal fanfiction#Pedro pascal characters#x reader#marcus pike#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike smut#the mentalist
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can i request angel dust x a protective overlord reader?
Angel Dust x Overlord!Reader
Includes: Angel Dust, Valentino, Overlord!Reader (male)
Warning: Valentino is a warning
A/N: overlord reader breaks his contract real?!!! Anyways. Angel is GAY so I made the reader masc. I hope that doesn’t make you too upset. I tried to make the form as vague as possible so you can imagine your own demon form.
Power. You rose to power more than 10 years ago. Going from a lowly pornstar to an overlord in the matter of a few months. You owned many souls and had your own territory that involved your own porn studio.
You were also a dancer. You owned the souls of your strippers, dancers, and your pornstars. You took very good care of your souls, but you did have to show who was in charge every now and then.
After the sudden appearance of the radio demon, your comrades fell. He disappeared for the 7 years you built your reputation.
Now, you were at the Hazbin Hotel for quite a minute. You had your own territory, yes, but you also enjoyed staying at this place. It was free and you got to help out.
At this place, you met some interesting characters. Charlie Morningstar, the princess of hell. She was the one who founded the hotel and she was very sweet. However, she was awkward socially.
Vaggie, Charlie’s girlfriend. You learned she was a fallen exorcist that the princess found. She was levelheaded and almost always spoke for her girlfriend as the voice of reason.
Husk, the bartender. He was under contract with Alastor. You recognized him as a former overlord. He was stubborn, but he had a good heart.
Niffty, the maid. For a little thing, she was creepy as hell. She loved climbing you and killing bugs.
Sir. Pentious, a snake inventor. He took care of these little egg things that you found weird, but it’s hell. Who is anyone to judge.
Alastor, the radio demon. Everyone knows him. You were the only old overlord he didn’t kill. Maybe it was your matching power, or your presence. You didn’t know.
And finally, Angel Dust. You knew him as Valentino’s little toy boy. That moth guy ranted about him during some Overlord meetings. It’s good to finally put a face to the name.
He was very flirtatious. He even flirted with you. He showed you one of his movies and it almost made you sick. The true fear in his eyes that went unedited, the pain he seemed to be going through, the moans of agony. You could tell he didn’t like it. Why was he showing it if he didn’t like it?
You didn’t want to push on it. You just hung out with him more. You had even told him about your studio! “You should come work for me, darling. I’d give you way better perks.” You smiled and offered. His look of distrust and fear made something snap inside of you. A parental instinct? No. An instinct to protect him. You knew you had to.
After that exchange, you hung close by him. You two became very good friends! He even ended up confessing his love for you and you accepted gratefully.
It took a few months before he opened up, but he eventually did. Angel told you about his situation. His contract, how Val had treated him, his movies, and other things. Not all at the same time, of course. You pieced them together from bits of information he has told you.
Even if you didn’t show it, his situation enraged you. You wanted to kill Valentino, just as Alastor killed the overlords before him. You tried to keep your cool. You did your best to comfort your boyfriend, but you devised a plan. A plan to help Angel Dust out of his situation.
Valentino had come to you about collaborating with him on a porn project. Originally, he wanted you to star in it but you refused sternly. Today was the day you had to arrive at his studio. Angel had been gone the whole day, so you assumed he was there.
After stepping out of the limo that took you to your destination, you looked around the place. You were guided inside by a guard of sorts. You had to show your ID and shit to people at the front before they allowed you into the studio.
Before walking in, the moth man himself came out to greet you. “So great to see you, mi querido..~” He spoke, picking up your hand and kissing it. Your smile let down for a moment and you slowly dragged your arm away. “Valentino. Bring me to the studio already. You’re 15 minutes late.” You said between gritted teeth. “Right this way, el cariño.~” He pulled you inside of the studio.
As soon as you stepped in, the smell of sex hit your nose. You expected it, obviously. It’s a porn studio. But this strong? Does he even clean? You shook it off and tried to ignore the smell. You took a look around the studio and noticed some workers staring.
“Alright. Hello, my name is Reader. I will be working with Valentino on this project. I hope you will have me.” You introduced, bowing your head to the group. You heard some whispers before many just nodded and smiled at you.
Your eyes turned to the door that opened. It was Angel Dust. Your face turned red at the slutty outfit he was in and you waved. “Is that the star?” You questioned. You didn’t notice the slight snarl on Valentino’s face. “Yes.” He took a puff of his cigarette and blew red smoke off to the side.
“Alright. Let me see the script.” You walked over to one of the Hellhounds by the massive pink bed and took the script from his paws. Hands? You didn’t know. You skimmed over the script and you stopped. Your head slowly turned to the moth man and your expression dropped.
“We are NOT collaborating with a script as bad as this. Also, non con? We aren’t doing that.” You ripped the script up, much to Valentino’s dismay. “I will be working on a new one. Expect a better one by tomorrow.” You sighed and shook your head. The look of fear your boyfriend gave the man made you pissed off.
“Angel, may I see you for a moment?” He said, falsely sweet. Before Angel could reply, you stood in front of the moth demon. “You can say whatever you want to say out here.” Your eyes darkened as they scanned Val’s body. You could tell he was hiding his anger, but you could care less. “I’d like to have a word with my star, in private.” He fumed silently. You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Angel, darling. If anything happens, please let me know.” He said nothing and turned to his room.
“For the rest of you, I’ll order you guys some food while I think of how to proceed. What do you guys want? It’s on me.” You heard a mixture of ‘pizza’ and ‘burgers’. You decided to get both. You pulled up a chair and sat near Angel’s room. A loud thud made you jump out of your seat. You slammed his door open and saw the gruesome scene at hand.
Angel was on the ground, nose bleeding and clothing torn. He looked like he had been roughed up. At the sight, your demon form immediately flared. Your hair rose and your eyes turned a dark red. Your pupils dilated and your claws sharpened as well. You grew a bit in size and your voice boomed throughout the room.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” Your voice was demonic. It sounded like many voices. Maybe the voices of the souls you owned too, but who knows. You grabbed Valentino by the scruff of his neck and threw him out of the room. You crawled out of the room and pinned him to the floor. He was probably into it, if you really thought about it, but you didn’t care.
“NEVER. AND I MEAN NEVER. TOUCH ANGEL LIKE THAT EVER AGAIN OR I WILL RIP YOUR DICK OFF.” He nodded aggressively and you backed off of him. You ruffled your hair and transformed back. “You have him under contract, correct?” You questioned, staring at the bruises that were starting to form on his body.
“Yes?” He pushed himself off of the ground and brushed the dirt off of his clothes. “Give it to me. Or else.” Your eyes darkened once again as you snarled at the moth man. He hurriedly made Angel’s contract appear and you grabbed it from him. You ripped it up, effectively ending his contract. “Reader..” The spider demon stared at you in disbelief.
“Do you want a contract with me so this doesn’t happen again?” You asked him, cupping his face gently. “…I’ll think about it. Thank you.” You gave him a gentle kiss to his cheek and led him out of the studio. “This collab is over. If any of you want to come work for me, my address is on that paper.” You pointed to a card you placed down earlier and walked out the door with your boyfriend.
Bonus Scene
As you arrived back at the hotel, Angel brought you to his room. “I found this new movie I thought you’d LOVE.” He said happily, pulling Fat Nuggets into his arms as he went to grab the movie he spoke about. “You can tell me about your little meeting while we watch it, darlin’. ”
“It was about the same as it normally goes. There was one interesting part, however.” You picked up the popcorn you had made and placed it in the middle of the bed. “Oh? What happened, sweet cheeks?” He started the movie and walked over to you. He sat beside you on the bed and leaned on your shoulder.
“Y’know that girl Velvette?” You leaned back against the pillows as he placed his head onto your chest. “Yeah. She’s part of Val’s group, right?” His hands made its way to your arms as he held them. “Yeah. Her. She made a theory that Carmilla killed that one Angel. It was interesting, to say the least.” You shrugged and placed your arms around Angel’s body. He laughed at your words.
You two then sat in a comfortable silence. Fat Nuggets squeezed between the two of you and laid there. You gently pet his head, along with Angel’s. As the movie progressed, Angel Dust seemed to be thinking of something. “Darling?” He spoke up. “Yes?” You looked down at his beautiful eyes and kissed his forehead.
“Thank you.”
#hazbin hotel x reader#helluva boss x reader#hazbin hotel#helluva boss#angel dust x reader#hazbin hotel angel dust#angel dust#hazbin valentino#valentino x reader#valentino#x reader#male reader#sinner reader#sinner#demon#demon reader#overlord reader#hazbin hotel velvette#hazbin velvette#velvette x reader#carmilla carmine#hazbin hotel carmilla#carmilla x reader
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Can you make a fem reader whose is a martial artist with a yan bonten but she doesn’t let them get her easily
ik it's been a while y'all but don't worry bc i will be getting through your requests!!
idk much about martial arts so I’m just gonna do my best with the fighting scene. hope you enjoy!
also, why am i more inclined to write when i’m high 😩
ꨄFight For Your Lifeꨄ
Oneshot - Yandere Bonten Au
❦You’ve been on the run from your childhood friends❦
Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader
Not fully proofread
MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!
I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.
Notice:
✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.
✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.
✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.
✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.
✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable
✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.
Enjoy!
Fight For Your Life
The platforms of your shoes slap against the wet concrete, puddles of water splashing as you ignore the rain falling on your skin. Your bloody clothes hugging against your body uncomfortably as the street lights glow amongst the dark sky, the empty buildings sitting under as you run past with squinted eyes. Your lips are apart as you take in quick breaths, though you tried to keep the panting steady. The adrenaline running through your veins made it easier to ignore the goosebumps caused by the cold air hitting your dermis and the red liquid running down your nose.
You didn’t know how long it had been since you ran from your totaled car. It was amazing how you slipped away, not expecting the driver of the car to have died on impact. You knew exactly who sent the sheep, snarling as you remember the men you couldn’t seem to escape for long. Although you made it far enough to stay in a motel a great distance away from Japan, you still had a long way to go.
I’m so tired of this shit.
It’s frustrating having to travel from place to place, continuously spending a limited amount of money just to be free from the grasp of the yakuza. If you would’ve known that you would be abducted as an adult by your childhood friends who disappeared without any warning, you wouldn’t have become close to them in the first place. To have been so devoted to them and the rest of the gang, only for them to abandon you and reappear without warning, snatching you up and treating you as property rather than a person, murdering most of your loved ones without a care of how that could affect you. Not only is the situation painful but demeaning. How could they treat you like that? No explanation for the disappearance nor the behavior, not that you needed it. Who they are now explains everything you need to know.
Ignoring the tightness of your chest became harder as you slowed your pace, halting your movements before bending over, hands on your knees. You gripped the fabric of your pants as your eyes closed, head dropping as you struggled to steady your breathing. Your tears of frustration mix with the droplets of rain, finally lifting your body and rubbing your sleeve against your eyes, only for the moisture to return.
Your eyes widen as bright lights flash behind you before you swiftly turn your body to face the car speeding toward you. The loud engine roars as the vehicle darts down the hill through the fog. You search around your surroundings for a good hiding spot amongst the empty stores. You huff before running behind a structure closest to you. You find a dumpster, cursing as you open it and climb in, ignoring your discomfort for bacteria as you cover your nose and close yourself into the darkness, praying to not feel anything crawling on you as you rub your face with both hands, smearing the blood from your nose.
You breathe in through your nose and release from your mouth, ignoring the overwhelming stench as you listen for anyone close. The pouring rain made it difficult to hear any footsteps if someone were to walk near. You closed your eyes as you pant into your cupped hands quietly. You patiently stay in your spot for what feels like a while, planning to hide in the dumpster all night long if you have to. The phone you bought when you ran from Bonten was lost in the wreck, hidden behind the broken machinery and shattered glass so you had no way to contact anyone to help, not that you knew anyone. You also didn’t know if the police would help you anyway considering Bonten has some of them wrapped around their fingers.
The top of the dumpster is snatched open, rain pouring as the sound of your screaming covers the droplets landing on the full sacks of trash. You struggle against the hold on your wrist as you’re yanked out of the hiding place, feet meeting the ground.
“The more you struggle the harder this will be for you!” The man growled, attempting to hold you in place. When he pulls you toward him with his grip tightening, you straighten your posture before pulling your head back and slamming it against his forehead causing him to release you as he grabs his head in pain. Running on nothing but adrenaline, you dash away from the man as you ignore the throbbing ache of your head, only to run in the direction of two more men speeding towards you.
“Shit!” You hiss before turning back around.
“Get her idiot or it’ll be our asses!” One of the men exclaimed on his way toward you as he faced the original male whose face is still scrunched in pain.
Just as you were about to pass the man who attacked you, he reached for you in which you dodged before continuing to make your escape. Before you could succeed, you are snatched by the collar of your top and yanked back. You gasp as you feel the sting from the sudden pressure on your neck, though your shock doesn’t last long.
“Gotcha you bit-!” He grunts and bends over, releasing you in the process when you elbow his stomach with as much strength as you could muster, so much so you release your own throated shriek. Before you could run the next man comes forth, pulling his arm back before landing a punch on your cheek. Your face hangs to the side in reflex as your palm immediately meets your cheek, eyes wide as you wince in pain.
Before he could make another move, you use your fist to back hand the man’s face before landing a punch on his cheek with the same arm, his body wobbling back as he tries to keep balance. You shove him just as the third male comes to ambush you from the side, both of you landing painfully on the ground with you at the bottom. The puddle of water mixed with dirt and grime splashes as you thrash in his hold as he grasps your wrists and forces them next to your head, squeezing as you howl in agony.
Seeing an opening all the while your face is scrunched with fresh blood oozing down your cheek, you take the opportunity to knee the man’s midsection. His eyes widen as his grip loosens, mouth hanging open with a silent scream. You make eye contact before shoving him off of you. Before you can pick yourself up, the original man places the platform of his shoe on your stomach before pressing down hard. Your nails claw at his covered ankles as he glares down at you with a smirk.
“Oh? What is this?” You watch as the color drains from the man’s face. Your own eyes widen at the realization that you had just been caught.
Your head slowly turns to the side, your own eyes meeting two pairs of purple orbs. A certain mullet haired man tsked as he stood in place, flicking the cigarette butt from his fingers before lifting the black gun held by his other hand. A blaring shot echoed in the air, your eyelids met just in time before the red liquid could splatter in your eyes.
As a result, a weight was lifted off of your stomach as you opened your eyes, watching as the other two men had an expression of bewilderment, freezing in their spots as they watched the bloody corpse drop to the ground, pieces of the brain and skull lying all around the wet ground. You stare at the situation with wide eyes as you slowly sit up, leaning on your trembling arms as you watch both males take a step back with their hands in surrender.
“Come on boys, don’t cower on us now.” The tall man says, running his fingers through his short streaked hair, a sly smile on his face as his other hand holds the black umbrella both him and his brother stood under.
“Pathetic.” Rin states before he turns on his heel, slowly walking away from the scene, Ran follows alongside. They don’t give you another glance.
Escaping your trance, you went to jump up, only for your arms to be grabbed by the two men. You thrash as your feet lifts from the ground, your biceps slightly sliding against their wet hands as the rain continues pouring. You didn’t stop your struggle even when nearing the familiar black suv that caused your heart beat to accelerate. Sweat mixed with the droplets sliding against your forehead as the pressure in your chest became more prominent the closer you got to your entrapment. You pull your arms with all your might against the growling males’ holds, attempting to use your feet to kick them, only for them to dodge and grips tighten.
“Don’t do this.” You plead, bargaining for your freedom.
“We got no choice, lady.” The guy on your left responded.
“You have to have a wife or daughter or something, guys! Please!” Your eyes burn with moisture caused by frustration, your eyebrows furrow as you glance between the men who hold you.
“Shut up!” The guy on your right hissed. “We’re doing this to keep them safe. Your well being is worth nothing to us so just accept your fate.”
Your head hangs low as you’re dragged to the car, the tinted window rolling down as a blur of white reaches your peripheral, right before the men holding you halt in front of the vehicle. You hear footsteps before a tight grip reaches your chin, forcing you to meet golden eyes that seem to glow through the rainy night. A blonde strand hanging on the left side of his face, the rest of his black locks pulled back in a messy ponytail. His empty orbs bore into you as you seem to internally cower from the strange expression.
Your discomfort increases as time goes on, the sound of the rain hitting the pavement masking the silence as you continue to hold eye contact. The corners of his lips curve upward before you can comprehend his next move. The tight grip released on your left arm before you hear a thud against the ground. Your eyes widened as you eye the injured male, turning your gaze back to the man who gives a sheepish smile, rubbing his bruised knuckles as he chuckled.
“You really know how to make a guy angry, Y/n.” He scratched the back of his neck before looking to the side as his smile dropped. “Running off like that wasn’t cool.”
You scoff before shaking your head angrily. You couldn’t believe his deflecting. They treat you like a pet. It’s degrading and abusive. The lack of respect as close as they were before is disgusting. Before you could respond, the cocking of a gun snatched your attention away from the tiger tattooed male in front of you and towards a certain pink haired man who now stood outside of the car. The barrel of his gun aimed right at your torso, your body tightening as you lose your breath.
His scars stretch as he snarls shifting his aim quickly before pulling the trigger. A loud shot rings out, echoing throughout the empty street. Your breathing slows down as the pounding of your heart is the only sound you can hear, followed by a ringing in your ears as the final grip releases you to the ground. The water pellets fall on your face as you feel pressure on your front as you stare at the sky, a warm liquid forming under your torso as your lips hang slightly apart.
You barely hear the car doors opening as your hearing goes in and out, five figures hovering over you as they observe your figure. Crouching down closest to your face, the platinum haired male who gives you an expression of emptiness uses a hand to caress the left side of your face, thumb tracing your temple. He leans over, his warm breath connecting with your ear.
“If you won’t let me have you, death will.”
As your hearing comes back and vision clears you watch as the men with solemn gazes turn and leave your vicinity. Mikey pulls back before picking himself up and following his men. You listen as you hear footsteps fade and the car doors open and close. The engine roars before they speed away, leaving you on the wet street.
You were in slight shock considering you couldn’t believe you had just been shot. You knew they were capable of it but the thought of yourself being murdered is unsettling. You stay on the ground for a moment, relieving yourself of the panic attack you just had before you slowly sit up and eye your surroundings. Seeing nobody in the area, you look down and pull your shirt up, grabbing the busted sack that once held fake blood from your cushioned vest. Staring at the sack you took a deep breath before releasing.
This is perfect because now they think I’m dead.
Although you were surprised about the gunshot, you wore a bulletproof vest, along with the fake blood sacks since you had escaped because you knew that there was a chance you might die trying to leave them. Your hands couldn’t help the trembling as you eyed the bloody puddle under you. Seeming to escape the trance, you hopped up from your seat and began to walk in the opposite direction from where you came.
The car’s atmosphere was thick with tension and grief. Although all the men held the same stoic and zoned out expression, their emotions were going haywire with their decision to kill you. Do they regret it? No. They don’t regret it as your punishment nor as a blockage for you to be able to move on without them. Do they wish you had just listened so it wouldn’t come to this? Indeed. Kazutora wipes the stray tear as his head turns to the side, eyebrows furrowed as he leans back in his seat with crossed arms and a crossed leg. Sanzu slowly cleans the gun used to take your life, wiping in slow yet rough strokes, all the while trying to focus on everything but the memory of your body landing on the ground. Now that his anger was gone, he lacked the adrenaline he had originally.
The Haitani brothers sit next to each other in the back of the black suv, Ran smoking a cigar with a tired expression as well as Rin removing a flask from his suit’s jacket and throwing his head back for a good sip. Mikey sat in the passenger’s seat, eyeing through the windshield with nothing but an empty void filling the inside of his chest. He feels nothing and everything at the same time. You used to be so close to all of them. It was a shame but he knew that he couldn’t allow you to live without him. You chose this. This is your fault.
A sudden ringing interrupts everyone as Mikey grabs the phone and hands it to Kakucho who uses one hand to direct the wheel.
“Hello?”
“You what?!”
Everyone’s eyebrows furrow at his reaction. He lowers the phone before handing it to Mikey with a concerned expression. Mikey sets the phone on his ear as he listens to the other person.
“Boss, her body is gone. She’s nowhere to be found.” Kokonoi says as he crouches down to get a closer look at the busted sack. Using a gloved hand to pick it up before it hangs from his fingers and the remaining liquid leaks.
“I have a feeling she faked her death and has escaped.”
Mikey stares ahead with a more focused expression, his eyes slightly wider than usual as he narrows his gaze.
“Find her, now.”
You eye the two lines with wide eyes. Your hands tremble as your fingers barely hold up the test.
“I-I’m pregnant?!” You hiss. You hop from the toilet and slam open the stall door, tossing it into the trash before walking to the sink and recollecting your memory as you try to search for how this could’ve happened because you genuinely had no remembrance of any sexual encounter in the last few months.
“I-I can’t feel…” The tingling in your limbs causes them to limp as you attempt to move your body around, though hands around your wrists prevent you from budging. Legs sit in between yours as the person on top of you leans over to your ear.
“How much of a dosage did you give her this time, Sanzu?” Kazutora asks before he licks a slow trail from your neck to your ear. You squirm under him as you try to find an escape before your body slightly shuts down and you become still as your eyes become heavier.
“G-guys…” You whisper, trying to come back to reality as you feel him adjust on top of you. Your mouth hangs open in a silent grunt as you feel a firm pressure enter your vagina.
“Enough.” The blue eyed male responds while rubbing his thumb along your forehead, taking in your scrunched nosed expression as Kazutora slowly thrusts into you.
“Fuck.” He whispers as he pressed his cock against your cervix, holding it there as his hands snake to the back of your head and neck, squeezing before he pulls his hips back to repeat the same process.
You shut your eyes tight as the girth stretches you, a stinging sensation surrounding your core before your pussy engulfs his cock perfectly. The pain switched to a conflicting pleasure that your own drugged body couldn’t handle. Your head falls back as Sanzu leans over and pulls you into a heated kiss, while Kazutora holds you tightly, his head on the other side of your neck as he accelerates his pace, hips rocking in a steady rhythm purposefully aiming deep against your g-spot.
Ran watched the display to the side with his brother, enjoying the show as they patiently waited for their turn with Bonten’s signature doll. He man - spreads while sitting with his arms resting against the top of the sofa, one arm slightly behind Rin who has his arms crossed. Both brothers ignore their erections as their pants become tighter, listening to the sounds you make as well as the juices colliding.
Mikey sits in a chair, similar to a throne next to the sofa, eyeing the session with his legs spread, leaning over to where his arms rest on his legs. From this angle, you both make eye contact when Sanzu pulls back.
“P-please stop!” You whine out as tears fall, hoping for Mikey to take control of the situation. Unfortunately, the only response you get are Sanzu’s thumbs smearing your tears and groaning from Kazutora in your ear.
Suddenly, he stops his thrusting and pulls back. He sets your legs on his shoulders as he looks down at you with a glazed over expression, red covering his face along with sweat as he repositions himself before leaning over your thighs and thrusting hard. His pace accelerates once more as he brings you both closer to your release. His forehead rests on yours as he thrusts his hips rhythmically against you. His cock slides in and nearly out of your walls as the head kisses your g-spot repeatedly.
“You're taking his cock so well, sweet girl.” The pink haired male whispers against your ear before nibbling the lobe, his hand sliding on your chest towards your neck before circling his fingers around the surface and slightly squeezing. The stimulation becomes too much, the sensation overwhelming as it mixes with the effects of the drug. Your hips meet his deep thrusts as you cry out.
“So. *thrust* Fucking. *thrust* Good, baby.” Kazutora’s raspy soft spoken words meet your ear as his eyes bore into yours. Biting his lip, he watches as your hands meet his chest as his grip tightens on your legs, along with the thrusts forcing you into having a violent orgasm along with sending him into his own as he moans out your name and his hips move sloppily, riding out both of your orgasms as sweat drips from your skin.
Your hand shakily reached your mouth as you recall when they would drug you up and proceed with sexual acts against your will. You have no clue which of them would even be the father. You knew you had to figure something out but you just didn’t know what. You quickly leave the public restroom and ask to use the cashier’s phone. Once you dial the number, you set it to your ear.
“Draken? C-can you please help me?”
“Ugh, girl come here!” You sigh as you eye the mess left from the little devil.
“What is this?” You question your child, eyeing her golden eyes as you point at the red paint that spilled all over your carpet.
“U-uh, I don’t know mama.” The eight year old responds with a cheeky smile. You shake your head, irritated because of the mess but you breathe out a sigh considering the paint is washable and will be able to be cleaned.
“Yeah, okay. You’re gonna help me clean this up.” You shake your head as your daughter nods. You chuckle to yourself before stating, “And don’t try to lie to me anymore, I can see right through you.”
Your daughter shrugs before leaving to grab some of the supplies. You couldn’t believe how much she grew to look like Kazutora. It was haunting and hard to deal with at times but she had nothing to do with it so the love for your child was enough distraction from how she was created. Before you could follow and help her, you heard a knock on your door. Your eyebrows furrow, not expecting anyone to have appeared so you ignore it.
Once the knocks stop, the ringing of your phone catches your attention. You snatch the device from your pocket and lift it to your ear.
“Hello?” You say to the unknown number.
“You have something of mine, and I’ve come to get it.” Before you could react, your windows were shattered as you crouched down and covered yourself. Immediately going into action, you run to the storage closet in the hallway to grab your child.
“Mama?” She cries out in surprise at the commotion.
“We have to go now!” You snatched her with one hand and pressed a contact with another.
“D-Draken! They broke i-!” Before you could finish, the phone was knocked out of your hand and you were forced to the ground, releasing your child in the process as she’s snatched by a person you hadn’t wanted to see.
“Awe, you really do have my eyes.” Kazutora says warmly with a smile as he holds your child in his arms, the poor girl crying in confusion and fear.
You're cuffed before you’re forced to stand up and face five of the men you never wanted to see.
“M-Mikey, please! She needs me! Don’t t-take her from me!” You yell in hopelessness, the tears falling uncontrollably as you watch Kazutora caress your daughter’s hair. The leader only stares down at you before turning on his heel and walking away, motioning for the other men to snatch you and follow.
“Wow, Y/n. You know, you really had us fooled.” Rin says as he grabs one arm. Ran stands on the other side and mimics his brother’s hold on the opposite arm.
“It’s silly really. We knew only an hour after you escaped and followed you up until this point.”
“You should be thanking the king for not killing you on the spot.” Sanzu growls with his head turned slightly back to make eye contact with you.
“On the bright side we can all be a family, now.” Kazutora beamed.
Truth be told though they would never say it out loud, they were all thankful that you hadn’t actually died. They found it humorous that you thought you could escape their radar at all. Now having been caught, you could only stare ahead, in hopes that if you comply, you could possibly come up with a plan to safely take your child and completely leave your past behind.
#yandere tokyo revengers#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#tokyo revengers#tokyo rev x reader#tokyo rev smut#bonten#bonten x reader#bonten x you#yandere bonten#bonten trio#sano mikey manjiro#sano manjiro x reader#kazutora hanemiya#kazutora x reader#sanzu haruchiyo#sanzu x reader#ran haitani#ran x reader#rin haitani#rin x reader#manjiro x reader#manjiro x you#kazutora x you#sanzu x you#ran x you#rin x you
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hakuna matata | joão félix x fem! reader
summary; joão’s comes back late from a match to see his girlfriend watching a childhood favorite
warnings; mentions of crying n mufasa’s death
taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03 @c-losur3
word count; 365
note; requested !
masterlist !
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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
João deeply sighed as he unlocked the front door of his shared apartment with Y/n in Barcelona. He hated rainy days but one thing he hated more was training on a rainy day.
He knew his girlfriend would be home since she told him she would have a relaxing self-care day. He didn’t expect to walk through the door and hear her sniffles.
Immediately, he sets his bag down by the front door and rushes to the living room. Everything was running through his mind. What could have made his girlfriend upset?
João’s mind quickly calmed when he noticed a familiar movie on the TV screen. Of course, Y/n would watch her favorite movie on her self-care day. Of course, she would watch The Lion King at any chance.
She was watching the scene when Mufasa died and Simba ran away. She had always been an emotional person. Crying during any moment of surprise or joy, and crying whenever anyone else cries. She always cried to that scene in The Lion King and he knew it.
He couldn’t help but laugh as he walked over to her. He takes a spot beside her on the couch. “You’ve seen this scene like 50 times, meu amor.” He said in a teasing tone as she turned to look at him.
“Doesn’t change the fact it’s sad!” She pouted, resting her head on his shoulder. His hand immediately went to her hair, gently running his fingers through her locks. “I can’t help but cry.” She chuckled.
“I know, I know.” He said with a smile, giving her a shoulder a gentle rub. “But hakuna matata right?”
Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at João’s words and his cheeky smile. Despite seconds ago being upset over the movie, his presence made her feel better. She sat up and turned to look at him, lightly slapping his shoulder. “Hakuna matata, exactly!”
“By the way, you stink. Go shower, babe.” She added with a scrunched-up nose and gave his shoulder another slap. “How was practice, anyways? I know you hate rainy days.”
He stood up with a smile. He pecks her cheek before saying, “Like what Pumba and Timon said, hakuna matata!”
#football player x reader#football x reader#footballer x reader#footballer x y/n#football imagine#football imagines#football scenarios#football one shot#joão felix scenarios#joão felix x reader#joão felix imagine#joao felix x reader
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Thinking of Suguru who has a crush on you..
Upperclassmen Au
*Geto who isn’t a bully or narcissist.
⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁☆
__________________
┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊
┊ ┊⋆ ┊ .
┊ ┊ ⋆˚
✧. ┊
⋆ ★
!SuguruGeto who first saw you in a cafe Satoru had dragged him and Shoko to.
!SuguruGeto who realized he was staring quite rudely when you happened to look over at him and wave out of politeness.
!SuguruGeto who had to immediately look away out of pure embarrassment, choking on his overly sweet drink in the process
!SuguruGeto who heard you giggle from across the cafe, and immediately felt his ears flush red.
!SuguruGeto who kept his gaze aimed down at the floor until he heard the unmistakable sound of the cafe’s door jingle open, and then close.
!SuguruGeto who silently shunned himself for being such a wuss, knowing that he’d probably never see you again. He didn’t even get the chance to ask for your number.
!SuguruGeto who’s usually a laid back, and chill guy, caught himself almost flipping out of the chair he was reclining in when Yaga introduced you as the new student in his class.
!SuguruGeto who strained his ears to hear your voice over Satoru’s loud blabbering, and hung onto your every word like his life depended on it.
!SuguruGeto who couldn’t help but notice how you sat alone most of the time, and never really hung out with the other people in your class during, or even after school.
!SuguruGeto who was initially curious as to if you remembered him from the cafe, became a bit concerned about your wellbeing when he noticed that people were actively avoiding you.
!SuguruGeto who relaxed a little when he realized that you were content with being in your own little world.
!SuguruGeto who would sneak subtle glances your way at every chance he got. More often than not he’d slowly turn around in his seat to get a good look at what you were up to under the guise of him trying to stretch his back.
!SuguruGeto who loved to sit and just observe your mannerisms. Like how one time he saw you flick your pen a little too hard by accident and watched it fly across the room in embarrassment. He made sure he was the one who got up and got it for you.
!SuguruGeto who eventually worked up the courage to say small hi’s or hello’s to you whenever he happened to see you.
!SuguruGeto who ended up coming back to class much later in the evening one day to retrieve Satoru’s books that he’d left, and happened to see you diligently trying to clean up the classroom all by yourself.
!SuguruGeto who was very careful in announcing in presence, so as to not scare you in any way.
!SuguruGeto who insisted on helping you clean, even when you told him you had everything under control.
!SuguruGeto who is beyond smitten at this point, feels his stomach fill uncomfortably with butterflies when he hears you start to hum a song (he hasn’t the slightest clue of what it was) to fill the silence between you two.
!SuguruGeto who gladly helps you dust off the very tops of the chalkboard that you can’t reach on your own. (He saw you going to get a chair to stand on, so he offered to do it instead.)
!SuguruGeto who finally understands why people most likely avoid you.
!SuguruGeto who notices that he can barely feel any cursed radiating off of you, if there was any to begin with.
!SuguruGeto who comes to the conclusion that you aren’t exactly very strong, but doesn’t feel repulsed in the slightest. Instead, he feels rather confident knowing that he now has a duty to protect you and shield you from anyone or anything that may cause you harm.
!SuguruGeto who takes up most of his missions in the early mornings, so that he can spend his class time secretly admiring you.
!SuguruGeto who is always readily available to help you whenever he sees you struggling with classwork or your technique.
!SuguruGeto who eventually starts sitting next to you in class (he always asks first) under the guise that another one of Satoru’s fan girls took his seat (he actually offered it to her .)
!SuguruGeto who genuinely respects you, and even though you are in no way stronger than him, he appreciates your work ethic and constant strive to be better at anything/ everything you do
!SuguruGeto who chooses to spend his breaks with you. Usually opting to silently read to himself while you studied or practiced beside him. If he noticed you were struggling, he’d kindly place his book down, and lean over your shoulder to observe what it was you were doing.
!SuguruGeto who was acutely aware of the rumors surrounding his and your very strange friendship dynamic. “One of the strongest + the one of the weakest in the entire school?”
!SuguruGeto who always has your back, and is quick to shut anyone who dares speak ill of you up.
!SuguruGeto who stared to notice how said rumors were beginning to affect you.
!SuguruGeto who became aware of your more recent absences, and would find that he was in a pissy mood the days you weren’t at school.
!SuguruGeto who feels hurt, betrayed, and most of all, angry when you try to push him away. Spouting some nonsense about how “..you’ll only drag his reputation down.” He thought it was ridiculous that you’d even think about saying such a thing, and he made sure you knew just how much it bothered him.
!SuguruGeto who was there for you when things just didn’t go your way.
!SuguruGeto who proudly served as your rock, and was always a phone call away.
!SuguruGeto who had the deepest feelings for you, but could only express them in the feather light touches that he gave you from time to time, or the little snacks that he’d buy for you when he knew you’d probably left your lunch at home.
!SuguruGeto who was beyond in love with you, but chooses not to say anything, lest he ruin what chemistry you two already have. He knows about your dreams, and ambitions, and he’d be damned if he were the one to get in the way of your success.
!SuguruGeto who, for now, was content on staying by your side, and being your biggest cheerleader.
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GOOD LUCK, BABE!
cw: tlou universe. Comphet Abby, slightly suggestive. Angst. Sad ending!!!
an: not proud!! forgive me if this sucks, I just needed to write this
Approximately three hours passed by since she left that good night kiss on the man sleeping next to her. Abby had been tossing around in bed endlessly, first being unable to sleep and then fighting with herself to stay asleep, trying to find calm and comfort within the torture her mind was going through. The endless corridor, the blood on the wall, her hands desperately gripping the dead body, her dad’s empty body. It had been a while since she’s got that nightmare, but so far, she had learned to manage it. Maybe because you weren’t there.
She jolted awake, her heart racing and her breaths coming in shallow gasps. It was in that moment of vulnerability that the floodgates of her suppressed emotions burst open. In fact, there had been plenty reasons for her emotions to burst. You being the main reason.
Settling herself in bed, trying to catch her breath as her elbows rested on the mattress, holding her whole weight. Her gaze shifted next to her, the man sleeping on her side still unaware of the situation. unusual considering he’d wake her up most times. At least he cared about her, it was real love coming from his side.
She had gotten used to this in a desperate attempt to find an explanation for everything. Forcing herself into believing it was her father the reason behind it all. Yet, despide the effort, she found herself haunted by memories that refused to leave her mind and heart alone at any time.
But oh she’s stubborn, so, for years she made it work. Abby had spent so long trying to fit into the mold her own mind had built for her, trying to convince herself she was fine, she had been burying her feelings, making anybody else responsible for them, anyone but herself.
Her fingers ran over the man’s hand, resting over her lap. Gently, she tossed it away, placing it over his own body.
The cold air hit her body once she moved the blanket down her knees, standing up. her arms moved as a reflex, hugging her own body. She needed the comfort.
With slow steps she got out the bed, then out of the room, her heart kept beating in such way it had became unbearable. All because of you.
Because she had gotten over the idea of her dad being ripped from her, she knew she wasn’t guilty, she had no control over it, there was nothing she could’ve done to prevent it or make it hurt less. But you, she could’ve done something for you, she had, indeed control about the whole situation and she could’ve done so much to prevent it, but she didn’t.
And not only was she the reason of it all but she could never apologize. And the last memory she had about you was painful, because of how she made you feel, because of what she said and what she did to you, because of what you replied to her. Because you were right, and she was not. And that broke her soul.
You knew her so well you knew how she’d end. With a man she doesn’t love, regretting everything she had ever done and feeling alone even when she’s not. Because that’s her. And you made sure to let her know that the last time you two ever spoke.
And so far, she was able to keep the memory blurry and locked somewhere in her. Until tonight.
You felt so warm, embracing her empty body, telling her everything would be just fine, saying sorry repeatedly for her lost. Maybe it broke her that it wasn’t just a nightmare, but a memory.
Because Owen didn’t even bother to ask her if she was right when he first saw her after her father’s dead. Not because he didn’t care but because he had no clue of what had happened. But you? you where there, you saw it too and never left her side after that, not until she pushed you away.
You met her when fireflies were still a thing, and never left her side since the moment you crossed paths. You swore you were soulmates, and she never said otherwise. She never did, not even now.
You were her childhood best friend, and she was yours, and god you two made sure everyone knew.
Her friends were your friends, her family was your family, you shared everything, knew everything about the other. And even after years both can agree there could never be a replacement for that, maybe because you met being so young but, the bond between both is a once in a lifetime kind.
After her dad died you were all left for her, well, the closest to family she had, she was never alone. And that was the problem, she had everything and everyone a human could wish for in such times like those, but it wasn’t enough for her.
It wasn’t enough because her mind always messed things for her, because her dad and what had happened to him kept making harm, not only in her but in others.
She got blinded by the pain on her heart, and even like that you never left her side, never.
You took care of her, waking her up if she had a nightmare, holding her until she fell asleep. Abby always felt so ashamed of it.
That until she felt the need of staying by your side, not only because you were all she had but because she felt something for you that just brought her comfort and love after so much pain. Because you were the only person that could make that pain go away and she eventually accepted the reason of it, or so she said.
Abby was the first to speak about it, the one to make all the first moves, impressively after all these years considering she was always quite conservative when she had to show she cared about you.
She kissed you for the first time ever, and you cupped her face with your hands to make it last longer, she looked so pretty, with her sheepish smile and a very small red tainting her cheeks, her eyes and nose very slightly scrunched. She made you cuddle with her for the first time and you covered both of you with the blanket, you moved your legs to place then between hers and you pressed yourself on her body, almost to remember her forever. You regret it now, because it worked.
You, on the other hand, tried to make the first move when people were around, at first believing she might be shy to tell people about you because she hated those clingy couples. Then, realizing she wasn’t ready to let people know. Now you know you should've left.
You always gave her time, giving her kisses whenever people wasn’t looking, taking advantage of your friendship with her being well known by everyone to hug her and stay close to her.
She would get mad- well, not really but asking you playfully to stop because she wasn’t ready. And you always understood.
Until drunk - which later she used as an excuse - she said she could never date you, not only because you were a woman and she wasn’t “into that” but also because your personalities only fit with each other because you two met so young. Your friends laughed at it, and you wanted to kill her right there.
As if the universe wasn't on your side, abby got closer to getting hat revenge she desired so much, and you knew it wouldn’t help to make of that a bigger situation in such important moment, so you let it go. You couldn't really blame her for anything after all.
She didn't mean to feel like this about you, or anyone else, and nor you or abby could call that a behavior you could blame someone for. You were her one excepcion in life, you thought instead of complaining about it you should've enjoyed it all.
Abby apologized later that week, you didn't know it was because she went to see Owen. You wish you never knew, you wish you never asked. Back then you thought the old abby was coming back. You were more than wrong, because she never left, she just changed, like everyone else did.
It wasn't later after that when you had to broken up with her. It happened before both of your lives changed forever.
You never wanted to, but it's impossible to not regret it all knowing your life- her life could've turned different.
"You're overreacting" her arms were crossed. She straightened herself, mocking you. You couldn't scream because there were people near you, Abby's friends, all sleeping.
She had brought everyone to a random place to get her revenge, and as much as you loved her, the whole scenario was ridiculous. You didn't understand why she needed everyone on her side, until you saw it.
And maybe you were overreacting, but it wasn't the first time Abby rathered to speak with Owen instead of you. And it made your blood boil because why would she even think about him as someone she can speak to when he wasn't on her side as much as you? When he's dating someone else and she's dating you?.
"You haven't spoke to me since we came here. I just wanna know, why him?" Abby chuckled, rolling her eyes. Just that and you felt like bursting into tears. Fucking ridiculous.
"Abby, answer-" she cut you off, running a hand over her hair, down her braid. The way she took a deep breath, how she didn't take you serious, It had become a normal thing for you and only that made you realize how stupid it was. How stupid you were for letting her treat you like that.
"You can't respect that I want to keep us private. You think I'm fucking cheating on you. I don't understand what the fuck you want from me" you impulsively stepped back. Thinking about an answer that didn't make you sound like the mean one, even though you knew she was the one making all the mistakes.
"You don't want us private Abigail, and you fucking know it" you still remember the knot on your throat when you spoke, there has never been such painful feeling. "We've been dating for more than a fucking year and you haven't said you love me, not even once. I'm the one overreacting, the one being clingy, the one being desperate for love. But you know why? Because my girlfriend is terrified of loving me"
She didn't say anything. But god how she remembers it all.
"You know how insane you're making me? I saw you kissing Owen many times while dating, and you want to keep me 'private' even after a whole fucking year?" Her lips shut together, forming a pout. You knew she wanted to cry, which only made you feel worst because you were the one supposed to cry. Not her.
"You can kiss every single man on earth, but know, it will always stay the same. Good luck with all your shit, Abigail"
The scenery your eyes saw some hours later were just the confirmation you needed to leave. She was angry, and in pain. Probably you were guilty of the morbid way that men got killed. Or, maybe not, but you couldn't change the sensation of guilt building in your stomach every time abby hit his skin.
Back at the base it all got awkward between everyone. The relationship between Owen and Mel got awkward, and that was related to you and Abby.
It was a sort of love affair situation that no one ever spoke about but everyone knew it had happened. Everyone felt pity for you and Mel, which made the hate towards her grow stupidly heavily.
You despised her and that man.
So, for you and your needs, you decided to take something from her one last time.
Having her underneath you, pleading for your touch, crying your name, confessing how she regretted it all and how Owen was driving her insane. One last time, you can't make you forget it.
Neither does Abby, regretting letting you go, more than anything she’s ever regretted.
Not only has she wasted her time with Owen but she had made him waste his time with her. She could’ve had you, she could’ve been awake on your side tonight. Knowing she took all those chances away from herself, it drives her insane every day.
But oh you told her so, and you gave her thousands of chances to not fuck it all.
Those words you said to her, they’ve been stuck forever on her brain.
#abby anderson x y/n#abby anderson x you#abby anderson x female reader#abby anderson fanfic#abby anderson angst#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson fic#abby anderson fluff#abby anderson tlou2#abby x masc!reader#abby x y/n#abby x you#abby x fem!reader#abby x reader#abby x black reader#abby anderson x chubby reader#abby angst
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