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ourautumn86 · 3 days

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needy ellie that loves your tits so much

she needs to fuck them?

ellie williams x fem! reader!

cw; +18 content! minors dni!!, dove fucking (r! receiving), oral sex (e! receiving), face fucking (r! receiving), praise kink, use of good girl, cursing, cum play, cum eating, nipple and tit play, begging…

she’s kissing at them, tongue out as she laps at your nipples, long cold fingers groping at the fat of your tits in need, in hunger.

“perfect fucking tits.” she’d mutter, her pupils wide. “love your tits so much baby.” you’d tug at her hair, moaning at her touch and kisses. “want to fuck them so bad…” she muttered against your skin, a bruise on the swell of your breast.

you sighed, your back arching and mind reeling at the thought of her fucking your chest. “do it.” you breathed out, and her green fern eyes locked onto yours.

“yeah?” she inquired, her tongue drawing circles on your nipple, teasing you.

“yeah.” you whimpered. “fuck my tits, el.” she was quick to move then, taking off her tank top —leaving her beautiful and perky tits exposed to your hungry eyes— and getting on her knees, her fingers breaching her briefs to pull them down her lean thighs and throwing them onto the floor of your bedroom. she straddled you, making her way up to your chest until her mound stood right in front of you, her slick folds making your mouth water.

“you like it? like to see how wet you’ve got me?” two of her fingers came in between her thighs to part her folds and give you a better view of the mess her cunt had become. you moaned, nodding.

“want it on me, want you to come on me.” you bit down on your lip, arching your back in an attempt to bring her closer to your tits.

“yeah? you want me to cum on those pretty tits of yours baby? make a mess out of you?” you nodded.

“yes, please…” you sweetly begged, making her groan as her pussy pulsed.

“now, how can i say no to you when you ask for it like that?” you sighed at the feeling of her slick smearing itself on your chest as she sat on it, with a grunt snapping her hips against your breasts, moaning as her clit caught against one of your nipples. “fuuuck baby.” she sighed as she started to slowly rock her hips against you, sweet wet smacks of her cunt against your skin filling the room and your ears.

your hands came up to her own chest, playing with her tits, knowing how sensitive they were. the auburn haired moaned, her hands coming up to yours, squeezing them. you whined at the sight, needy to taste her, to make her feel good.

“use me.” you begged. she looked down at you. “please, use me.”

“you want me to use you, pretty?” you nodded, one of her hands coming down to your jaw, her thumb on your bottom lip. “then why don’t you open your mouth for me, hm? wanna ride your face for a little.” you were quick to pull out your tongue, showing it to her, eager for a taste. “look at you, so fucking needy…” she smirked, moving up slightly to take a seat on your mouth, moaning at the warmth, at the wetness… “good girl…” she breathily said, rocking her hips, fucking your face and mouth. “good fucking girl, fuck.” she cursed, her free hand coming to your hair as the other incited you to massage her breast, what you happily did as you sucked on her clit.

you hummed against her pussy, slurping up her juices, your tongue sliding in between her folds just to then wrap your lips around her clit and suck. over and over again, making her whimper, moan, groan and shiver… anything you could get out of her you’d get.

you’d stare up into her eyes through your eyelashes, doe pretty eyes hungry to please her.

she hissed when she felt that warmth spreading on her lower stomach, getting away from your mouth, hearing you whine in response. “i wanna cum on your chest, baby. cream up your pretty little tits.” she hushed you, getting back to her previous seat in your breasts, crashing her clit against your skin and nipples. “shit. feels so good… gonna cum so hard on you, princess.” she moaned, her rhythm becoming sloppier, losing consistency. your other hand came to her free breast, tweaking the nipple, the stimulation finally making her reach her peak, making her moan, grunt and huff as she came all over your chest, her cum spreading all over your shiny skin. once she had came down from her high she got off of you to kiss you, deeply tasting herself from your mouth before her lips would trail her way down your neck to your slicked chest.

“what are you doing?” you moaned, your back arching as her lips sucked on your nipples, her tongue cleaning up her cum from your breasts. a smirk showed on her plush lips before she answered to your question.

“licking you clean.”

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0vergrowngraveyard · 1 day

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He still remembered the first time he called Tails “lil’ bro” out loud. The kit’s reaction was unforgettable.

It felt natural to Sonic. He’d already been referring to the kit as his little brother to cashiers and any other stranger who got nosy and asked what a blue hedgehog was doing with a two tailed fox kit without either of their parents around. They always gave him an odd look but that didn’t matter. He didn’t exactly care what these people he’d probably never see again thought of his and Tails’ little life. They weren’t in it so they didn’t get to have an opinion about it.

However, he apparently never voiced the whole little brother thing to the kit himself. Part of him didn’t think he needed to and that it was pretty obvious that they were basically family at this point. Sure it had only been a few months since they met, but Sonic only needed a few months to decide that this kid was his and there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it.

In hindsight, he probably should’ve realized that Tails wouldn’t have come to that conclusion. He knew they were friends, best friends even, but Sonic could tell that the kid was still nervous about the whole situation between them. Whenever he thought he did something wrong, he always had this scared look in his eyes as he apologized over and over again. It was like he was still expecting the hedgehog to just dump him somewhere and leave him alone again.

There was also the chance that he just didn’t have a very good opinion of families. With his biological one being completely out of the picture and all, Sonic would have been surprised if it left a sour taste in his mouth. Then again, this theory hinged on the idea that he actually remembered his parents which he didn’t seem to, so it was safe to say that it probably wasn’t the case.

(There was a secret third option that had suggested that Tails simply didn’t see him as an older brother figure. Sonic didn’t like to think about that one too much.)

When he finally called Tails “lil’ bro” out loud, the kit stared up at him with the biggest blue eyes he’d ever seen. They almost reminded him of the light blue chaos emerald with how much they were sparkling. Tails asked over and over if he meant it, that he really did see him as a little brother and barreled into the hedgehog when he confirmed. The kid pricked himself on a few quills but he didn’t seem to care, his namesakes spinning in happy circles all the same.

It had been maybe three weeks since then.

Tails never really called him his big brother in public, or in private really. Any time someone asked him who he was with, he’d just silently pointed over at Sonic. When asked what their relationship was, he just fidgeted nervously and ran over to the hedgehog, making it so that Sonic had to explain that they were brothers.

He never held it against the kit, figuring that he was just nervous. He was never comfortable around strangers for obvious reasons so it made sense that he wouldn’t talk to them.

He was just a quiet and anxious kid. That's all it was.

The memory faded away as the sound of a small coughing fit brought him back to reality. He slowly sat up and stretched, looking around their campsite for the source of the noise only to find the culprit where’d he’d been for the past few days now. Sonic sighed and made his way over to him.

The duo hadn’t moved in almost a week. Tails had caught a pretty bad flu and Sonic didn’t want to force him to fly around the zone or travel at supersonic speeds in general. He didn’t think that kind of thing would do him very good when what he needed was fluids and sleep.

Sonic sat down next to the sick kit who had conked out again after his quick coughing fit. He took his glove and put the back of his hand on the fox’s forehead. Tails was still burning up, his fur was damp with sweat and his sinuses still audibly congested as his small body fought off the intruder.

He sighed again as he put his glove back on. They were nowhere near any hospitals where the kid could lay down in an actual bed and be looked over by professionals. Instead, all he had was the ground, a pillow and blanket, and some broke eleven year old.

Luckily, Sonic had enough money to quickly run off and buy some medicine for the kid but that was pretty much it. His wallet was empty except for a few coins and they were running low on food. Last he checked, they only had two cans of chili left. That was dinner tonight and tomorrow, they’d have to skip breakfast and lunch which wasn’t good for the sick fox.

The medicine made Tails sleep for most of the day so he couldn’t see as Sonic’s worries and doubts started eating the hedgehog alive.

Had he made the right call when he decided to stop looking for a suitable family for the kit? What did he have to offer him, especially right now? He wasn’t fit to be watching over a little kid by any means. They ate the same thing every day, sometimes they didn’t eat at all, Sonic was far from a good influence, and their life was full of potential danger. Chaos, the kid had gotten grabbed by Robotnik a few times and almost used as a living battery for one of his robots.

To top it all off, Sonic himself was still a kid. What did he know about raising someone?

He loved Tails, he really did. Without fail, he looked forward to seeing him the next day and continuing their little adventure to save the island one zone at a time. He loved the little guy’s laugh, his smile, the way he tilted his head when he was confused and all his other quirks that made him who he is. For a bit, he kinda thought it was weird for an eleven year old to have a four year old best friend. But when that four year old just so happens to be the coolest kid you’ve ever met and will ever meet, it really can’t be helped.

But as much as he adored his little tagalong, this wasn’t something he could be selfish about. Part of him was starting to regret telling Tails that he saw him as family and getting his hopes up because if this didn’t work out after all-

“Mmm…Sonic?” A quiet little voice weakly called out as its owner temporarily returned to the waking world.

Sonic snapped out of his self loathing and directed his attention towards the kit, “Hey, bud. How you feelin’?” He asked, putting a hand on the kit’s head and gently petting him.

“m’body still aches… ‘nd m’nose is still stuff-“ he cut himself off with one sneeze, then another, “stuffy…”

He went to wipe his nose with his paw, but Sonic beat him to it as he cleaned off his little brother’s muzzle with a small scrap of cloth. “Well, you still feel pretty warm. You wanna try drinking some water?”

The kit’s watery eyes stared off into space as he thought about it before he gave a small nod that was barely visible. Sonic helped him sit up, wincing at how his ears drooped and how limp his tails were. The fox rubbed his eyes with the back of his paw and let out a squeaky yawn as Sonic fetched the big water bottle he had stolen from the pharmacy he got the medicine at.

(He probably could’ve stolen the medicine too and saved some money. What would they have done? Chase after him?)

He handed the bottle to the kit and put a hand on his back as Tails slowly brought the bottle to his mouth and drank, making sure not to spill any even in his state of delirium.

When he was done, he handed the bottle back to Sonic who put the cap back on and set it to the side. “That any better?”

Tails nodded, “mm-hm…it tasted good.”

Sonic chuckled at the kid’s slurred words, a firm indicator that he was once again fading quickly, “I’ll bet. Why don’t you lay back down and get some more sleep, bud.”

He nodded again and laid back down, tails weakly curling around him as Sonic tucked him in nice and snug.

“Sonic?”

“Tails?”

“Why’d you look sad earlier?” The fox asked, fighting against his heavy eyelids to stay awake a little longer.

The hedgehog blinked at him, “You were awake?”

Tails shifted a bit, “Mm…kinda..b’also kinda not..”

Sonic lifted his hand to the kit’s head, scritching behind his ear and trying to ignore just how warm he felt, “You sure you weren’t just imagining things? You might’ve just been out of it, kiddo.”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, “i ‘unno..maybe..” he nuzzled into his pillow, “b’ you looked pretty upset…”

“I’m all good, bud.” Sonic promised, “You just gotta worry about getting better so we can get back to kick Ro-butt-nik’s butt, alright?”

Tails nodded and finally allowed his eyes to close, “M’sorry i got sick…”

“No need to apologize for that, lil’ bro.” He shook his head, “I’ll wake you up when it’s time for dinner, alright?”

“okay big bro…” was the last thing the fox managed to get out before he fell asleep for what would be the next few hours.

He continued scritching until he made sure the kit was out. He then pulled his hand back and just stared at him.

Big bro…

It shouldn’t have meant so much to him, it really shouldn’t have, but Sonic couldn’t help the smile that forced its way onto his muzzle as fondness filled his entire chest, squeezing him tight.

Never in a million years did he ever think he’d be called someone’s brother, let alone be part of a family. He always thought that kind of life would weigh him down and force him to stop moving.

He thought he’d hate it and yet here he was, in the middle of Hill Top Zone with the only person in Mobius he considered to be family.

He wouldn’t want it any other way.

He placed the water bottle in arm’s length of the fox just in case as he picked up the dirty cloth and ran down to the river nearby to wash it off for later use. When he returned, he put it back in the backpack and got out their cooking supplies and a can of chili to start making dinner.

Maybe he wasn’t the most qualified to be looking after a four year old, but that didn’t mean he was about to quit just because he’d hit a rough spot.

This kid was his, and there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it. Not even his own self doubts.

#fic #i wanted to get this done by wednesday but alas #it is a day late 😔#whatever that’s fine #i like the idea that it took tails a little to call sonic his big brother out of worry that he wasn’t being serious #and he didn’t want to get his own hopes up that he finally found the person he belonged with #this definitely does not bother sonic at all #nope that is one unbothered hedgehog #sonic: it’s so over….#tails: *calls him big bro*#sonic: we’re so back #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #unbreakable bond #the brothers ever

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scoobydoodean · 2 days

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I was wondering if you, as a Dean fan have opinions about the different writers? Mostly because I see a lot of Dean fans really strongly dislike Dabb for some reason and I don’t really understand why. I’ve never seen a concrete explanation beyond “he can’t write Dean/doesn’t understand Dean/actively hates Dean” but with no examples as to what he does that’s so bad. And I see this in every shipping lane. I don’t have a strong opinion about him as a writer one way or the other.

I'm exploring this more as I rewatch the show (currently on season 6) so I'll speak mainly from that perspective on my most recent thoughts. I am not a big fan of Dabb or Loflin, but have tried to be fair about things so far when talking through each episode. I am a fan of "Alpha and Omega"—it's my favorite finale (it's also... a finale for a season Carver started as showrunner? So I don't know what the implications are there as far as storyboarding). Also points for having demon Dean stab a guy through in 10.02.

I'll focus on the negatives you asked about in this post, but in the links you'll find me moving the narrative this way and that toward much more charitable readings... I think. (I do have a tag #dabb disk horse which you can either peruse or blacklist at your leisure). What I can tell you is something almost always strikes me as a off about Dabb/Loflin episodes so far in this rewatch in terms of character work.

Dabb/Loflin's first ever episode was 4.06 "Yellow Fever". In the aftermath, Kripke felt the need to release a definitive interpretation of their episode to the public, stating, "Dean is not a dick... he's a hero." The whole episode toyed with, to an extent, the idea that all the victims of the MotW were bullies. You can take this other directions—for example, queer meta, or meta about Sam as the real bully. However, the story a lot of fandom latched onto was that "Dean is a jerk and deserves to be humiliated and punished for that" which obviously didn't make Dean fans watching live in season 4 happy—and this theme of Jerk!Dean continues into their next episode, "After School Special", where they once again parallel Dean with a bully literally nicknamed "Dirk the Jerk" by Sam, and throw what I think is transparent shade at Kripke's issued statement from before the Christmas break (post here)... or maybe they mean to throw shade at the Dean fans who got angry. In this episode, they also make illusions to Dean wanting to have sex with barely legal high school cheerleaders, which also did not ingratiate them to Deanfans at the time. I said on my last rewatch, "In After School Special, Dean seems more unlike himself than any episode ever in the history of Supernatural up to this point" (post explaining that here). I carry similar sentiments about portions of 5.06 "I Believe The Children Are Our Future". Yes—I am aware of performing Dean meta. I just... feel like they try a little too hard. It feels hamfisted—desperate. To the point it doesn't feel like Dean anymore sometimes. In 5.06, they also have Dean (guy who is generally very protective of kids) suggest to Jesse that he'd be good to have in a fight???? I can see how they got there, but again—it just feels... off. The last episode I rewatched that they authored, 6.04 "Weekend At Bobby's", also leaves a bad taste in my mouth—not in what it's trying to do with Bobby or what it's trying to do on a meta level—but once again, with dialogue from Dean that just makes me think "he would not fucking say that" (post here). I think looking at all of these, you can probably see deangirl ire toward Dabb has a long history. It's been around as long as he's been around, whether he deserves as much ire as he gets or not.

I haven't circled back yet on this rewatch, but Dabb and Loflin also penned season 7's "The Girl Next Door"... do I need to say anything specific? Maybe I'll just link my entire #amy tag. What narrative did they want you to get from that episode? Who the fuck knows. And that's often the problem:

When you watch various episodes I've mentioned, you can work around to a meta that tells you something different than you might at first think the page conveys—something hidden and maybe contradictory. The thing is... you could also... not do that? And that wouldn't be so bad, except that sometimes the two narratives you can most easily grasp completely contradict each other. "After School Special" can be an episode that points to Sam's envy of Dean and John deep down and foreshadows Sam becoming a bully, but on a meta level, it also just as easily says Sam becoming a bully is somehow Dean's fault, and Sam is some poor captive baby. Dean is a creep and a bully and a cheater but we should all coddle him because he saw his mom die when he was a child and he's sooo sad. "Yellow Fever" can be a queer meta story and might also foreshadow approaching Bully!Sam in 4.14, but it also very much does call Dean a jerk (should we take that seriously? should we not?) and implies Dean should be punished for the outcome of three decades of reality-bending torture. Even if it's a queer meta underneath... it's just as easily one about how closeted men should be humiliated for cowardice or how being closeted turns you into an asshole.

Jumping way ahead, I have to mention 15.10 "The Hero's Journey" just because. Yes, it is full of jokes and Garth goodness, but also tries to sell you the story that nothing about Sam and Dean is real, to a degree that feels like you are being flipped the bird for ever watching this show. And again—you can make meta that it's all a ruse! But is it? Or is Dabb actually just telling you to go fuck yourself? Like he totally wasn't when, after the SPN finale when fans were Not Happy™️, he tweeted a sign reading, "Don't feed the baboons"? Yet again—we play into the motif of the "hero" who isn't a hero at all but some pathetic loser who deserves to be publicly humiliated, bookended with Dabb's opening episode in his opening season. I'm not saying that's what it is on purpose—but I am saying you can make these arguments easily, and that leaves me consistently annoyed with Dabb for being fucking sloppy and leaving me to deal with some of the most insufferable meta imaginable that carries little support outside of episodes written by Dabb or the Dabb/Loflin writing team.... Yes—I am in fact saying that Dabb and Loflin's hamfisted episodes (regardless of their intentions) are largely responsible for some of the most insufferable, loathesome fandom metas about Sam and Dean's relationship around.

Look at 5.16 "Dark Side Of The Moon", and 7.08 "Time for A Wedding!" and 8.14 "Trial and Error", 11.17 "Red Meat", and 15.20 "Carry On". Along with 4.13, while they might or might not say something deeper or contradictory on a meta level, on a surface level, every single one of these episodes sows the narrative that Dean is needy and clingy and needs Sam more than Sam needs him—something I intensely disagree with for a multitude of reasons... but I'll just link this. Many of these episodes also follow a surface level narrative of "normal life obsessed Sam" (and here I'll link my entire #sam the hunter tag and #in which sam is not a helpless little waif with his hands cast over his eyes being carried along by the tides of the immutable sea). When I look at this episode list, I also don't find it at all difficult to believe that Dabb wanted Dean to die in the finale. There is nothing at all shocking about that. And yes—you can argue he's pointing to the opposite—that this fate should be subverted and that's what makes 15.20 the dark ending, but I think you can just as easily argue that yes it's a dark ending and yes Dabb has always dreamed of this ending. A "tragic" ending where Dean dies and Sam goes on to have a white picket fence... while also leaving you little hints along the way that maybe it's all a big ruse because how could he not? He never has to explain anything. Someone else will pick up the story and make it make sense. He's already fucked off to piss all over fans of Resident Evil.

That said, when I mention what I feel is off character work, I mainly mention Dabb/Loflin episodes from my recent rewatch, which suffer from the two of them being newer to the series (coming onto the writing team in season 4) and also leave questions about whether, perhaps, they had conflicting ideas about characterization. Was Dabb the one penning these lines? Was it Loflin? Was it both? Did they trade out who took the lead? I didn't really say anything negative about "Sam, Interrupted" or "Jump the Shark"... (though "Sam, Interrupted" also calls Dean "codependent") who wrote those? Is it possible that the messiness of the meta comes down to two writers at war? I have to imagine though, that they got along, or else they wouldn't have written together for four fucking years. If they didn't get along...? My mind always comes back to their first solo episodes, right after splitting up in season 8. Dabb's first solo episode is "Hunteri Heroici"—the only episode to lend any perspective to season 8 Sam's reasons for abandoning everyone—paralleling him checking out with Fred's catatonia, which Sam has to save Fred from. It is the only episode that lends Sam sympathy in the early part of the season. He follows it up with "Trial and Error"—where Sam promises to save Dean from suicidal thoughts. Loflin's first solo episode is what I would regard as the most scathing solo episode commentary on Sam in the entire series—"Citizen Fang". Then he writes again right after Dabb's "Trial and Error"—penning "Remember The Titans" where Sam tells Dean to get over the promise Sam so passionately made in Dabb's episode and face reality.

This is why we're exploring this rewatch.

DISCLAIMER: Now I just devolve into bitching because I'm writing at 3AM. Proceed at your own risk.

It seems like these days, everyone demands an explanation for disliking Dabb (something about some sort of destiel battle... I don't know what that flamewar is and I don't give a damn tbqh.) I guess I've just been wondering what's actually so great about him. Because it feels like people have overcorrected to basically acting like he's god's greatest gift to mankind. People point to how meta his episodes can be, but I think other writers easily best him on that front on multiple occasions (particularly enjoyed by me so far on this rewatch: 3.10 "Dream A Little Dream Of Me", 4.04 "Monster Movie", 4.12 "Criss Angel Is A Douchebag"), and without leaving their meaning so up in the air that you don't even know what the hell they were actually trying to tell you because there are two different completely incongruous narratives you could just as justifiably claim were the intended one. Some people may find that duality praise-worthy. I don't. I find it sloppy—and when I add in mediocre character work, I just land on the side of him being, at the very best, mid.

Add him in as showrunner, you have... at least two of my least favorite seasons (13 and 15). Add that he's a one-trick pony in terms of the Sam and Dean conflicts mentioned above that he continuously rehashes rather than come up with anything new or fresh, and the same conflicts between Dean and Cas being played out until they both die (shut UP I'm not talking about canon destiel as the alternative—I am literally just asking for more diverse conflicts). I can't say I understand what I''m supposed to find so impressive.

(Before anyone so much as breathes this near me, Berens also sucks and I am going to tear off your nose hairs if you start bringing him up as if disliking Dabb for some reason means wearing rose colored glasses about Berens. Berens can eat a whole cactus raw over "The Trap" alone.)

#writer disk horse #dabb disk horse #mail

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uzurakis · 18 hours

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childhood friend! reader who's somehow getting closer with itadori due to them being both bubbly and chatty; this obviously doesn't go unnoticed by megumi.

he can feel the resentment gradually building up within him, but how could he ever dislike itadori? sure, the pink-haired boy tends to steal the attention of his childhood friend (that megumi may or may not secretly harbor feelings for) but hey, could he blame reader for being drawn towards such a passionate and humorous guy?

(winks) i'm leaving you to decide which direction this scenario should go hehe

n. i can promise you that i understand very well which direction to write this, nonnie (winks aggressively). hope this serves justice for your req <3

fushiguro megumi had always been reserved.

a man who preferred the company of his thoughts to the noise of the world. he had grown accustomed to solitude, finding solace in the quiet corners of his mind where he could retreat from the chaos of the outside world.

but then you came along, a beam of light in his otherwise bleak life. you were his childhood friend, the only one who had managed to break the walls he had put around the core of his being. and as he saw you grow closer to itadori yuuji, a friend of both of you, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping into his soul.

as you walked into the bustling classroom, your eyes immediately found their way to itadori’s infectious smile. he was chatting animatedly with you, his laughter filling the room like a burst of sunshine. you’ve been drawn to his magnetic personality, his energy infectious and his jokes never failing to bring a smile to your face.

fushiguro megumi, your childhood friend, stood off to the side, expression unreadable as he observed the interaction between you and itadori. there was a tightness in his chest, a pang of jealousy that he couldn't quite shake off. he had always been reserved, quiet, but seeing you gravitate towards someone else, someone so different from him, it stirred up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within him.

you realized that as the days went by, you were spending an increasing amount of time with itadori because of his carefree nature and enthusiasm for life. you found yourself having fewer and fewer talks with megumi; his presence receding as itadori's charm dominated your days.

however, megumi always had a bad taste in his mouth whenever he saw you laughing with itadori. he was unable to ignore the bitterness that was boiling under the surface and the sense that someone so affectionately pleasant had taken his place. on the other hand, how could he blame you? how could he hold it against you for being drawn to someone who lit up the room with his mere presence?

one day, while you sat with itadori during lunch, megumi couldn't help but overhear snippets of your conversation. his heart clenched painfully as he heard you laugh, your voice mingling with itadori's in a way that felt like a stab to his chest. he turned away, the turmoil within him threatening to consume him whole.

later that afternoon, the man found himself alone with you for the first time in what felt like ages. the air between you was heavy with unspoken tension, a distance that seemed to grow with each passing moment.

"hey, megs," you started, breaking the silence with a hesitant smile. "i feel like we haven't talked in forever. you okay?"

his throat tightened at the concern in your voice, the guilt gnawing at him as he struggled to find the right words. "i'm fine," he muttered, his gaze flinching away from yours.

you weren't persuaded, though. "are you sure?" you pressed, your eyes searching his for any signs.

megumi swallowed hard, his chest tightening with a mixture of longing and frustration. "i just.. i miss us, you know?”

“i miss how things used to be."

your expression softened, a pang of guilt tugging at your heartstrings. "i miss that too, megumi," you admitted, reaching out to gently grasp his hand. "but things change. people change. it doesn't mean we can't still be friends, right?”

friends, he heard it right.

his heart ached at your words, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. “yeah, friends..” you were slipping away, drifting further and further out of reach, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

just when the heaviness of the stillness weighed heavily on you and megumi, there came a voice from across the hallway.

"hey, [name]! come check this out!"

itadori's cheerful voice pierced through the tension, and you turned towards him with a bright smile, leaving megumi standing alone in the echoing hallway. “yuuji’s calling me. later!”

megumi watched as you pulled your hand away and hurried off to join itadori, his heart sinking as the distance between you grew wider with each step you took. already on a first-name basis? it took megumi and you some years to get used to addressing each other by your first names, but just a couple months with itadori?

thus, it was in that moment, with the sound of your laughter fading into the distance, that he realized just how much he had lost.

a sense of resignation settled over him, the bitterness in his heart mingling with a profound sadness. he had always known that he could never compete with someone like itadori, someone who effortlessly captured the attention and affection of those around him.

as he stood there, alone in the empty corridor, megumi couldn't help but wonder if this was the beginning of the end. if perhaps, despite his silent protests and unspoken desires, he had already lost you for good.

because fushiguro megumi had always been reserved.

and there’s nothing he could do about it.

@uzurakis — rqs are open <3

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vivwritesfics · 16 hours

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Slow Down, You're Gonna Crash

Chapter Six

Summary: Being a Verstappen means realising that you'll never be as good as her brother. She knew it. That was why she ran away to California. Of course, she's gonna fall for the older, naval aviator. And, of course, it pisses her family off.

Bradley Bradshaw x F1!Driver Reader

Warnings: distressed reader, Google translated Dutch

1.3K

The Bronco was silent as she tried to get her breathing under control. Her mouth tasted horrible, bad enough to make her want to throw up again.

But she couldn't, not in the Bronco.

Instead she looked at Bradley. Bradley, she had helped her into the Bronco. Bradley, who had given her space to breathe. Bradley, who looked undeniably pissed.

"Roos," she began, still a little breathless.

But she couldn't say much else, not before he began. "I thought you said you'd sobered up," he said, voice low.

Her heartbeat sped up in her chest. The words she wanted to say, they weren't leaving her lips.

"God, if I'd have known you were gonna get this pissed, I would have left you at home."

She stuttered something out, not quite a complete sentence. She couldn't manage a completely sentence as Bradley shook his head at her.

If only he'd just fucking look at her. Then he'd see. He'd see that she wasn't drunk, not in the slightest. No, she was feeling entirely too sober.

"Ik ben verdomd niet dronken!" She suddenly cried, slipping back into her native tongue. It was something she'd done since her karting days. When she was a shy kid, unable to hide behind her dad, she found comfort in her native tongue.

The tears fell freely after that. It was like the floodgates had opened. Hiding her head in her hands, she sobbed.

Bradley felt his expression immediately soften as he pulled over. "Shit, baby," he whispered as he reached for her.

But she flattened herself against the passenger side door. "Raak me niet aan," she said as she furiously wiped under her eyes, trying to stop the tears.

But still Bradley was reaching for her. His hands on her only made things worse. She flinched away and pushed him, desperately scrambling to put as much distance between them as she could. It was a miracle she didn't open the door and start running, but her legs wouldn't have taken her very far.

"Talk to me," he said, dropping the nicknames. "Tell me what's going on, what I can do to help."

But she just shook her head. Bradley let out a sigh, returning his gaze to the front of the car. He'd never felt this level of helplessness before.

"Take me home, Bradley," she whispered, this time in English. Bradley. Not Rooster, not Roo. Bradley. He spared her one last look before he drove her back to his place.

Her tears kept falling, but there was nothing he could do. He pulled into the driveway and killed the ignition. Before she could reach for the door and let herself out, he spoke. "You're not drunk, are you?" He asked, and she shook her head. "So, it was something you saw happen with the race."

She didn't answer that one. Pulling open the door to the Bronco, she climbed out, slammed it shut (well, it wasn't exactly a slam, but still forceful enough to have Bradley wincing), and went to wait by the front door.

Bradley watched her as he climbed out of the Bronco and locked it behind him. The tears had stopped, but she still had her arms wrapped around herself, was still sniffling and wiping at her nose.

Wordlessly he pushed open the front door and let her in.

As soon as the door was open, she strode open and made her way to the bedroom.

Bradley was a little slower. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. He filled it quickly and topped it up with ice, just the way she liked.

When he turned around, there she was, dressed in her pyjamas and grabbing a blanket from the basket beside the armchair. "What're you doing?"

"Sleeping," she mumbled as her head hit the arm of the chair.

Bradley shook his head. "Don't do this, baby," he mumbled as he strode over. "Come join me in the bed."

But, when he reached for her, she was retreating, quickly shaking her head. "Please, Roos," she squeaked. "Please don't touch me right now."

His hands dropped to his sides. "Okay," he said quietly. "But please take the bed. I'll sleep in here."

She went to argue, but Bradley fixed her with a stern look. "Okay," she agreed. She took the glass of water Bradley was offering her and headed to the bedroom.

She wasn't drunk, Bradley knew that. But he also knew her well enough to know that she wasn't going to tell him any time soon.

There was no way he was going to sleep. Instead, he pulled his phone from his pocket and began watching YouTube.

His page was full of videos about military planes. It was a bit of a cliché, that he sat on his sofa on nights he couldn't sleep abd watched videos of people restoring outdated military aircrafts. But that wasn't what he did this time.

No, he went to the search bar and typed in her name.

Hundreds of videos came up, and Bradley couldn't wait to watch every single one. The first was old, from when she was just a child. She was grinning a wide, partially toothed smile as she spoke to the interviewer in a language he couldn't understand. She looked so damn happy, helmet tucked under her arm as she spoke animatedly.

He clicked on the next video.

It was a compilation of her overtaking other drivers on track. He actually couldn't tell which car was hers. There was no number fifty three and every car looked different in almost every clip. It was only when she pulled up in front of the number one spot, climbed out of the car and held up her finger that he realised she was in the number nine red and white car.

Bradley didn't know how long he sat there, watching old videos of her. He'd seen her happy, like just that morning at the beach, but he'd never seen her happy like this. He didn't understand any of the informative videos about her, but he still watched them, only because they had more videos of her.

His phone gave him a low battery warning, but he didn't much care. He kept watching. And then he found the videos of her and her friends, all of them dressed in red shirts as they did silly little challenges.

When the bedroom door opened, Bradley looked up. He watched as she walked down the stairs, changed out of her pyjama shorts and into one of his shirts.

She said nothing as she came to sit beside him on the sofa. She pushed his phone out of the way and climbed into his lap. "The bed's too big without you," she mumbled, but her brows were still furrowed and she still wore a sour expression.

He didn't settle his arms around her, not like he wanted to. No, he took a moment to just look at her. She'd definitely still been crying after she'd gone to bed. "Is that because of me?" Bradley asked gently as he wiped his thumb across her cheek.

She shook her head and moved his hands for him, settling them around her waist. "You certainly didn't help by being an asshole, Roos. But no, you're not the cause of this."

His gentle fingers moved her hair from her face before settling back on her waist. "You wanna tell me what is the cause of all this?" He asked, hand falling back to her waist. He squeezed her hip and it was so damn comforting.

"Not today," she replied, reaching for the phone she'd knocked out of his hand. "Whatcha watching?" She asked, holding the phone up in front of their faces.

Bradley couldn't hide his red cheeks if he tried. A laugh bubbled from her lips as she pressed play. "I remember this! Oscar kept stealing the food I was meant to be trying so that he and Logan would win," she said as she settled down against his chest.

It was a good memory from her motorsport career, that much was clear. Bradley kissed the top of her head as they continued to watch. But they only got to the end of the video before her eyes were shut and she was snoring lightly, drooling against his chest.

Bradley drifted off slightly, but he didn't fall asleep. No, he watched a few more videos, this time from her time in Formula One. He watched her crash into the wall, watched her celebrate her highest points finish of the year.

This was the same feeling that flying gave him, he was sure. She'd be back in a car in no time, he thought, knew she'd be doing all she could to make that true. And then she'd be out of San Diego, out of his life, forever.

Bradley held her just a little tighter after that.

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mustainegf · 2 days

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Heyy you should do something with 86 era James like they’re watching the breakfast club (my fav movie) and like they’re cuddling and he gets hard so it leads to them yk ROUGH

I’ve never seen this movie, but I want to so bad, anyways, this fic was super fun to write I hope you enjoy it!!

As James and I snuggled on the couch, wrapped up in each other's warmth, I felt a warm wave of love wash over me.

The familiar strains of the characters voices filled the room, and I couldn't help but smile; finally, James was watching my favorite movie, The Breakfast Club, with me. After many nights of convincing, and maybe a blowjob.

As I shimmied my hips closer to him, intending to make our spooning more intimate, I felt a subtle pressure against my backside.

My heart skipped a beat as I realized what it was, a mixture of surprise and excitement coursing through me.

"James," I whispered, turning to meet his gaze, a mischievous grin playing on my lips.

He looked at me with his brow furrowed, "What?"

"You're hard." A blush colored his cheeks as he glanced away, but I could see that he was trying not to laugh.

I felt his cock press harder against my ass and I shivered in anticipation. He was so large, I couldn't practically feel it. "So? You know what you do to me," James giggled, kissing my cheek.

I laid my head back down, turning my attention back to the movie, but my mind stayed focussed on his persistent hard-on. I nudged my hips, rocking my ass over his bulge to tease him.

James didn't hide his pleasure, soft groans emitting from him every once in a while, my hips still nudging.

After maybe 5 minutes of this, James wasn't able to hold back anymore, one of his hands trailing into my pyjama pants.

He rubbed his hand on my pussy, stroking me for a moment before letting out an audible groan, as if he couldn't take it any longer.

I tried my best to just focus on the movie, but his fingers had won me over.

"James.." I whispered, shutting my eyes as he touched me.

Without a word, James sat up onto his knees rolling me onto my back on the couch as he looked down at me.

His Long hair was messy, his icey blue eyes focused on me with passion. I could tell he wanted me, I could see it in his eyes, in his body language.

With the movies audio muted, the only sound in the room were our breaths, our hearts, the only light the flickering TV screen.

It was hot. It was sensual. It was amazing. I could see the intensity in his eyes. He tugged down my pants, tossing them to the floor, leaving me in only his baggy tee shirt.

Ilooked up at him again, expecting to find his face red, perhaps embarrassed, but instead, I found him looking down at me with desire, my nakedness clearly turning him on.

His own pants slid down, falling to the floor, revealing his huge dick, already slick with pre-come. Ilicked my lips, noticing the way the tip glistened. James reached forward, cupping my breast in his hand.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against mine, his tongue swirling around mine, tasting me. As he sucked, I gasped, and moaned, my nipples beading, a trickle of wetness running down my thighs.

This time when I pushed my hips up against him, he took the hint, and grabbed his cock, guiding it inside me in one quick thrust. He froze there, his eyes widening at the feel of me enveloping him.

"Fuck, you're so sexy.." James groaned at the feeling, leaning down to kiss me again.

My arms went around his neck, holding him close to me, pulling him into me. I could feel him growing inside me as we moved together, his cock growing thicker and thicker until he was filling me completely.

I responded eagerly, sliding my tongue along his, wanting to taste him, wanting to make him feel good, wanting to give him what he wanted.

"Hmm.. Mmph..."

James hummed into my mouth, his hips moving faster as he started to pick up speed, his hand going under me, his thumb rubbing my clit.

"Yes!" I whimpered, biting my lip as James pressed his forehead to mine, slamming his hips harder.

With the silence of our need for sex being broken, James became much more confident with his voice.

"Oh, fuck, yeah!" he groaned, pushing himself deeper into me. I could feel his legs trembling, hear his breathing grow heavier and heavier, almost like he was running a marathon, not making love.

"So pretty baby, my pretty girl..." James praised, peppering kisses over my face as he roughly fucked me.

His words, his touch, his lips, his kisses, they made me feel so beautiful, so sexy. They made me want him more.

He slammed his cock into me, over and over, his heavy balls hitting my ass, but I could tell he was trying to control himself, he was trying to last as long as possible.

"Ahh! Goddamn it!" he yelled, pulling out, spilling his seed over my stomach, groaning loudly as he came.

"Fuck, I'm sorry baby, I couldn't help it. Your just too good," he panted, still milking the last of his cum from his shaft.

"It's okay, Jamie," I smiled, my fingers finding my clit which was throbbing from the absence of attention it was once receiving.

"Please," I begged, needing that release.

"Relax, I'll help you cum.." James said he gently, sitting up on the couch and pulling me onto his lap. His cum dripped from my stomach down my thighs and pussy.

James wrapped an arm around my waist, the other finding my slit. "That's it."" he whispered, toying with me as he kissed up my rib cage. My arm was wrapped around his neck, petting his wispy blonde hair.

"Mmm.." I purred as he swirled his finger over my clit, the pleasure hitting me hard. "How's that baby?" He whispered. His face only dimly lit by the movie that played silently.

"Good... so good." I moaned as he began to fuck me with his fingers, his fingers sliding into me slowly, then quickly.

I grabbed the arm of the couch, tightening my grip, squeezing it tightly, my legs trembling. "Don't stop, please don't stop," I begged. I couldn't hold on any longer.

My orgasm burst forth, lighting my body on fire, my inner walls gripping his fingers. My body trembled as he rode me through the waves, my legs twitching, my hips jerking, my muscles locking up. "God! Yes! Yes!"

James smiled, watching as I melting into his arms.

James set the softest, slowest kisses to my goodbhmped skin, rubbing my thighs and waist. "I love you so much..." he whispered into my skin.

"Love you too." I returned, sighing contently. We laid there for a few moments, cuddling. The movie ended, but neither of us paid attention to it.

It was like it never even existed. The couch was all ours, the house was ours, the world was ours, and nothing else mattered.

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actual-changeling · 2 days

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Remember that little mid-Pusher fic I wrote a few days ago?

It's still haunting me. So bad.

All I can think about his Mulder's thumb lingering on the corner of her mouth and I feel like I will suffocate if I don't get it out, so have a taste of what I am now compelled to write.

———

She doesn't want to kiss him like this is the last time she will ever get to see his face, but her lips part, her body arches into his, and he leans against her more and more. Even when Mulder moves his thumb from the corner of her mouth to stroke her cheek, a gesture as familiar as it is calming, she cannot forget about the dawning reality that he might be about to die.

His mouth tastes like the spearmint chewing gum she keeps in her purse with a faint trace of salted sunflower seeds, and she runs her tongue over his teeth in an effort to map it out—just in case, just in case.

Just in case he walks into that hospital and leaves strapped to a gurney, cold and lifeless. Right now, he is warmer than the blood running through her veins and the blush spreading across her cheeks; his grasp on her is both gentle and desperate, willingly taking and swallowing the silent pleas streaming from her mouth.

"Scully."

It's a breathless whisper lost in the panic blooming in her chest, a fear so cold it burns away any rational thought, reducing her to screaming instincts and pure, unfiltered want.

"Scully," Mulder tries again, her name pressed against her own lips so she feels it more than she hears it, but she can't listen to him, not yet. When he creates a tiny pocket of space between their bodies, one of her hands leaves his hair and fists his shirt with white knuckles and scratching nails. Mulder's mouth wanders, and so does hers, still refusing to part.

It's stupid, it's childish, it's borderline immature—it's everything she hates being, a completely new kind of vulnerability leaving her confused and off-balance. Tethering her to the ground beneath their feet is not the force of gravity but Mulder, who never leaves her orbit. No matter how many miles might separate them, she can always sense his presence: in the air, the lights blanketing the city, in the black ink pressed into the paper of their files, deep within her body buried in the marrow.

"Dana, please," he says softly, an exhale ghosting over her skin, and she finally breaks away with a gasp.

#alex watches x files #txf #the x files #x files #dana scully #fox mulder #scully x mulder #mulder x scully #msr #it's midnight and my meds are kicking in so if anything sounds rough thats why

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strangererotica · 2 days

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EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

jim hopper x reader smut | enemies to lovers

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Hopper is your boss, and a real piece of shit as well. He always finds something to tease you about, as if trying to exert his authority over you in the cruelest way.

The verbal sparring between you has become an almost daily occurrence, and you’re getting tired of Hopper’s juvenile behavior.

The sexual attraction between you is obvious to everyone else at the station, but it’s something you’re far too proud to admit.

One evening, Hopper has had more than a few too many drinks on the job. The liquor has loosened his already unprofessional tongue, and he’s being even more of a douchebag than usual.

He makes a loud comment about how your ass ‘looks like a ripe, juicy little peach,’ in the skirt you’re wearing, humiliating you in front of your co-workers. Furious, you storm out of the station, headed for your vehicle.

Hopper follows you out to the parking lot, staggering a little in his drunkenness, slurring a string of provocative insults at you. At this moment, standing in between the cars in the station’s parking lot, watching Hopper lumber toward you with a frustratingly handsome grin on his stupid face, you realize that you absolutely CANNOT take any of his shit a minute longer…

╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯

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“Shut up, Hopper!”

The words came out before you could stop them. Hopper had pushed you too far this time.

He seemed a bit taken back, but fixed his expression quickly, replacing his surprise with arrogance. “You want me to shut up so bad-,” Hopper smirked. “-then why don’t you try ‘n make me?”

You stared at him blankly. Was he joking? First of all, you weren’t in the mood to play games; and secondly, if Hopper was seriously challenging you to some kind of ‘play fight,’ then he must be insane. What kind of grown ass man would try to win an argument in such a childish, immature way? And of course he would win, anyway, as if there were any doubt as to who would come out standing in a physical altercation between the two of you…

The whole thing was so stupid, whether Hopper was joking or not, that you rolled your eyes at him and turned to leave. “Dick,” you muttered, and Hopper grabbed your arm, turning you around to face him.

“That what you want?” he asked, a lecherous grin on his face. At this close proximity, you could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“You’re drunk,” you glared up at him. Hopper’s smile faded, his free hand shoving between your thighs. You gasped, your eyes wide in alarm; but Hopper’s intensity remained. “And you’re wet,” he growled, cupping your pussy in his palm.

Heat rose to your cheeks, a blush warming your face crimson. “Fuck you,” was the best response you could muster, and Hopper’s wicked smirk returned. “Yeah you will,” he murmured. Hopper tugged you closer, using the grip he had between your thighs. Another gasp left your lips, which Hopper silenced with his mouth over yours. His tongue tasted like bourbon and tobacco, a combination that made Hopper’s kiss feel as familiar as it did new.

He broke the seal of his lips on yours, watching between your bodies where his hand massaged you. “You always get this wet when you act like a bitch?” he asked. Hopper squeezed your pussy, your juices spreading between his fingers with a loud squelch. You moaned softly as he rubbed the heel of his palm against your clit, his fingertips teasing the crotch of your panties aside.

A sharp hiss escaped you as Hopper touched your bare, cum-slicked lips. “Shh, it’s okay sweetheart,” he purred down at you, with that goddamn smirk still on his face. “You don’t have t’pretend to be tough anymore…” Hopper stroked your labia between his fingertips, gently spreading them. “…Always knew the tiger you pretend to be was nothin’ but a little kitty all along...” Hopper shallowly penetrated you with his index finger, relishing the way you squeezed him. “…And now-,” Hopper murmured, inserting his middle finger inside you as well. “-I’m wearin’ this little kitty like a glove…”

You instinctively ground your hips downward, sinking deeper over Hopper’s fingers. With his free hand, he palmed his erection, grunting at the pressure of his hand through the denim. The sound Hopper made was so vulnerable, so unlike the cocky bastard he usually was, it made your heart stand still. You wanted more of this Hopper, to know his weaknesses, to hear the other sounds he made when he touched his cock…

Hopper walked you backwards till you were leaning against the side of your car. You arched your back against the cold aluminum, as Hopper’s hand continued to fuck you. His lips moved to your neck, sucking bruises into your skin, his teeth grazing the soft flesh at your shoulder. Hopper hoisted one of your legs to the level of his hip, three of his fingers now pumping in and out of your cunt, his thumb pressed calloused and rough against your clit.

You wrapped your elevated leg around Hopper’s waist, panting into his chest as he leaned forward and unbuckled his belt. Holding his cock by the base, Hopper rubbed his tip up and down your pussy, slathering your slick in between your folds. With his eyes trained on your puffy lips, Hopper watched his cock sink inside you, his nostrils flaring with a deep exhale, his jawline tensed. You whimpered Hopper’s name- “Jim…oh my god, Jim…” -as he gradually filled you, your walls fluttering around Hopper’s cock as he split you apart.

You allowed your head to fall backward, glossy eyes opening onto the night sky. Dark clouds rolled high above you, while Hopper’s cock took you to places even higher. Cool drops of rain landed on your forehead, beading in your lashes, slipping between your lips as they parted in a gaping, wanton moan. Hopper slammed his hips into yours, pinning you flatter to your vehicle with every thrust. With a final, hungry growl of dominance, Hopper shoved you off of him just in time, gripping his cock in his fist as thick streams of semen painted your thighs warm and white. He breathlessly reached for you, taking you by the back of your hair, crushing your lips to his.

It was a kiss that felt like so much more than a kiss. Every heartache Hopper had caused you, every cruel word spoken between you both was being made right. Silent words of apology and gratitude were wrapped together, shared between your mouth and his, no words necessary to convey the message that after tonight, things would never be the same, again…

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@mrshopper84

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verdemoun · 22 hours

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timewarp at the bar on a friday night because i am being forced to leave the house against my will

it is always sean's idea and it's not just because alcohol he would just genuinely love the vibe and struggle to understand how people don't

sean buys the most expensive cocktails everywhere and thinks it's amazing alcohol can taste like fruit juice but lenny is a beer and whiskey purist as much as sean tries to get him to admit that sex on the beach is tasty (and maybe a good idea for later)

lenny never grows out of his loud silly drunk persona and is actually the life of the party he'll be standing on a table while staff scream at him but crowds are cheering as he balances a glass on a glass on his forehead. he has so many dumb party tricks like catching food in his mouth sean throws at him across the room and close up magic he learned from trelawney.

kieran shocks everyone by not hating going out. he has a sixth sense for finding the shes theys and sapphos and will get adopted before he's had two drinks. alcohol very much soothes his anxiety and he radiates so much genderchaotic the girlies drag him into the bathroom to be their hype squad while they fix their hair and makeup. he's just sitting on the sink merrily telling them they're pretty/handsome and they give him snacks

arthur never quite figured out not dressing like an outlaw or looking like he was sent to kill somebody but by the end of the night he'll have made a new friend like it was a side quest. he's the country boy version of a manic pixie dream girl the gays everywhere are left staring in awe as arthur casually 'welp better mosey on' and they never see him again

at least once isaac snuck into the bar with a fake id got caught by arthur who gave him a very firm lecture but then admittedly had a beer with his son before telling him he was grounded.

kieran sometimes gets to the classic wanders off/runs away for no reason level of drunk and the gang have come to speculate that's how the o'driscolls got him at jack's party. :c this is further supported by the fact he can get really panicky and disorientated when he's running. the positive is seeing almost any of the gang very quickly calms him down and he goes straight back to being giggly talkative drunk kieran.

arthur having caught kieran and trying to carry him home while kieran is giggling 'hey remember when you did this in colter' 'yes kieran i remember colter' 'i love you guys so much' 'you ain't so bad yourself' *delighted squee*

arthur, very drunk, trying to herd a very drunk kieran, sean and lenny home is hell. there's already buckets and towels spread out in the living room because none of them are making it to bed they're just sprawled out on the floor like there's been a shoot out hosea calmly steps over them to make his coffee the next morning.

#rdr2 timewarp au #kieran duffy #sean macguire #lenny summers #arthur morgan

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gardenpatchbaby · 2 days

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You hadn’t realized how close you had been standing to your Pokemon. It was a bad habit, really. You usually stood close enough to the battle that you could feel the heat of the flames and taste the earth that was kicked up around you. Normally in battle, these attacks weren’t aimed at you, so you could walk away relatively unscathed. Maybe it was bad luck. Maybe he meant to do it. You’d never find out.

“GIRATINA, STRIKE THEM DOWN!” There was a brief flash, and then nothing.

Volo laughed when he saw you fall. Even the Chosen of Arceus couldn’t stop him. The world would be remade. He walked forward proudly, expecting to give you some quip before taking the plates from your hands as you watched helplessly. Giratina watched from behind, savoring this moment. Arceus would pay a thousand times over for the past eons. The small mortal on the ground before him was the last obstacle, and they had fallen in one strike.

“Well, my favorite customer, time to admit defeat. Hand over the plates.” Volo smiled, stretching his hand out to accept. When you didn’t move, he simply rolled his eyes.

“Come now! No need to pout. Hand. Them. Over.”

Nothing. His tone turned icy.

“Get up.”

Still nothing.

“Damn it! Why do you insist on making this difficult!” He reached for your arm, intending to drag you into a standing position. When he touched the skin, he jolted backwards. Why was it wet? He looked at his hand, wondering for a moment at the deep red now coating his palm. Oh. OH.

He fell to his knees, trying to assess how bad the damage was. He hadn’t meant for this to happen! Sure, sacrifices needed to be made to ensure his vision succeeded, but not this. Despite his hidden motivations, he had actually enjoyed spending time with you collecting the plates. It was truly a tragedy that Arceus had sent you to stop him, but in the back of his mind, he had planned to keep you. Maybe as a trophy. Maybe as a friend. He hadn’t decided.

Giratina had certainly done a number on you. Half of your hair had been singed, while the other half was damp and matted to your head. Blood dribbled out of your nose and mouth, and he was pretty sure he could feel shards of your ribs move when he tried to reposition you into a lying position.

He could feel Giratina’s presence behind him. A dark shadow, silently waiting, if growing a bit impatient. Volo could feel the annoyance. “What’s the holdup?” it seemed to say. He knew he should be celebrating right now. He knew he should be snatching the plates out of your bag and leaving you for the Galaxy Team to recover.

“They’re dead.” He whispered, “You killed them.”

The bastard god stood silently. The empty mountain air echoed Volo’s words back to him. Over and over, fainter each time. You killed them.

Shakily, he reached for your satchel. Even through the fabric, he could feel the plates inside, their dull divine energy stinging the tips of his fingers. He took a breath.

This was merely a minor setback. The world would soon be his to rule. He could make a thousand of you with Arceus’ power. Why was he so upset?

Slowly, he opened the bag. He saw the plates sitting inside, arranged neatly between Pokeballs and assorted berries. It almost looked like a platter, designed just for him.

Then, there was a flash of white and red, and the bag was snatched from his hands.

#turns out taking too many Tylenol makes me write fics #not proofread we die like men #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon legends #volo #pla #pla volo #volo x reader #pokemon #reader is not akari/rei #volo + reader #i'm not writing this from a romantic perspective but yall can read into anything as much as you like #Garten's Writing

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