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#fallings just another way to fly
youareinacomawakeup · 9 months
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I don’t care what you fuckers say. Good Omens 2 was the best thing I’ve seen in years and there needs to be a season 3.
#spoilers: good omens 2#good omens spoilers#first off i know fuckers always say queerbaiting but there was zero queerbaiting#everything was set up and paid off beautifully#like if you're mad about the final conflict then you weren't paying attention during the whole job subplot#like what did you think that was there for but to show that aziraphale still had growing to do#that he had the capacity for growth but he wasn't THERE yet like crowley was#one's asleep and one's awake just like that last shot of nina and maggie#glorious parallel by the way#also the plot twist with gabriel and beelzebub was beautifully set up too#ANOTHER parallel by the way#like wow an angel and a demon falling in love#wonder what that represents#but i spent the whole damn show like 'WHAT THE HELL IS WITH THE FLIES. IS BEELZEBUB SPYING ON THEM?'#but no. much more betterer. that is a love fly.#and then like at the end#when aziraphale cut crowley off and spoke first i was like#'okay so they're not going to say it explicitly#but there's no fucking way to take nina and maggie's intervention besides crowley being in love#so I accept it as confirmed if questionably canon a la the kiss we both did and didn't see in yuri on ice'#'plausible deniability right'#but then NO#no crowley steered the conversation right back around and MADE IT HAPPEN#SUBVERT THAT TROPE#have him get cut off by absolutely heartbreaking news and SAY IT ANYWAY#EMOTIONAL MATURITY THY NAME IS CROWLEY#Aziraphale just needs to wake up#but yeah i was happy stimming the whole damn show#i kept needing to pause and step away because i was overwhelmed with how much i was enjoying myself#which was an experience i didn't have with the first season
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shackleton2 · 7 months
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I read the demon Bucky series yall. So much fun. Stucky romance, WW2—present, Hydra trash party, porn with supernatural elements, satisfying plot, action, oh my, definitely porn, so much more. My favorite thing was the emotive tail :D
Forever laughing at myself for being surprised when I get way into the more far-out AU scenarios
I loved mer-Bucky
I loved were-Bucky
I loved multiverse vampire Bucky
I loved android Steve
I loved selkie Bucky
Sitting there before I start reading like hmph I dunno I read Very Serious Fanfics I'm an Intellectual🧐🧐🧐🧐🧐🧐
10 seconds later devouring it like omg where has this been all my life
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carcarrot · 7 months
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i did tell you people i met a they might be giant right.
#I DONT THINK I DIDDDDDD like an insane person i left out one of the most bonkers moments of my california vacation#saying it now makes it seem like im making this up and the following story will seem made up but dude just trust me.#im fucking. ok sunday morning the morning of Thee Concert and i (used to waking up at 4-5 am) have been awake on and off since like 6 am#my friend? asleep.#now i enjoy waking up and falling back asleep for a couple of hours however by like 9:30 im starving i need BREAKFAST#like the very nice friend that i am i dont wake my friend up i let him sleep and leave him a message on my open laptop screen#because the fucking hotel room doesnt have a pad of paper?? so i leave my modern post it note of a message#saying that im going out for croissants and coffee#because im an idiot i severely misjudge how hot it's already gotten in los angeles in july#ive chosen to wear jeans (bad idea) and a long sleeve flowy black shirt (worse idea)#i also dont look my Greatest because my friend had been telling me dont wash ur hair before we curl it for the concert!!!#so this is my hair after flying in and everything the day before (It Needs To Be Washed)#im following google maps to the coffee place as i brave the streets of los angeles on a sunday morning#hollywood boulevard around the chinese theatre is insane btw. insane. but being from new york i am unfazed (well. a little fazed)#i am Sweating. its already gotta be 80 degrees. im also reaching critical hunger levels. but i continue on my journey#google maps leads me down a sidestreet and tells me to turn down some alley and im like well thats not right.#so i turn to go back the way i was headed and find another way to get to the coffee place#as i turn and head back up theres a guy going down this same block heading in my direction#i look at him and im like hey that guy kinda looks like oh my god it actually is him. mr john l of tmbg fame#and so i have a split second decision of like do i sayyyyyy something do i just ignore him while geeking out#somehow i decide to be bold and im just like gdjgmm hi excuse me i recognize you uh do you mind if i could get a photo#he was very nice and suggested we move into the shade and i took the photo trying to turn off google maps before i did#and i was like aa im seeing you in concert 2nite love your music thank u! and we went on our way.#i think i kinda like. stopped for a moment before i went on to the cafe and was like. that just happened??????? insane. but it gets better#i do finally get the coffees n croissants btw and get back to the hotel after melting in the heat#and my friend who likes tmbg better was losing his mind once i finally told him#so the following morning after our spars concert insanity we have breakfast at a diner and then head back to our hotel#and he's wearing a tmbg shirt he got and im in a spars shirt and as we're walking back a car horn honks near us#AND ITS BOTH THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS IN A CAR and they say hi and are like we like your shirts!#and my friend and i are like losing it but trying to be cool and like oh thabk you we loved your show hi! so theres my insane story
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jeonqkooks · 1 year
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tri-state area moots… i’m coming to haunt you. 😇
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fooltofancy · 11 months
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Gotta ask about best boy Haurchefant and Ilya
IF WISHES WERE FISHES HONESTLY
anyway, most insufferable bros who also fuck energy, u know, the kind that makes everybody pick up their food and eat somewhere else lmao.
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rapselsstuff · 4 months
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You know how everyone has heard a slightly different version of the same Greek myth? Like there’s a version we’re Icarus falls in love with Apollo and there’s a version were he knows the wings aren’t gonna hold but keeps flying anyway and a version were he doesn’t hear his fathers warning. In one version of the story, Athena is punishing Medusa, in another she’s giving her a gift. There’s a story where Hades kidnaps Persephone and one where he helps her escape from her mother. All the same myths but told in different ways depending on who tells them and to whom. Slightly different morals to gain from them but always the same basic concept.
And I just think it’s so fitting that the same is happening with the pjo show. Details change! In this version, Annabeth’s dad loves her from the beginning. In this version, they enter Medusa’s house knowing who she is. And this changes the meaning to reflect the time in which the story is told, and the people who tell it. Myths are meant to be retold again and again, thats the beauty of them. It doesn’t mean that one version is better than the other. And I love that Rick Riordan said I’ve told this story before, but what do I want to say this time? And he squeezes so much meaning into it!
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adreamfromnevermore · 27 days
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AU Where the Justice League forms as usual except for one slight difference where Bruce just so happens to have been the one superheroing for the longest. (Excluding Diana, who got up to it in World War 1 and then mostly didn't while she learned about Man's World)
Bruce helps form the Justice League, ignoring all of the comments as they come to the sudden realization that Gotham's baby cryptid story is actually a man in a very intimidating armored suit who can and will break your arm if you cause problems for him. They are unaware that this is not the first team he's led, and actually he's used to teams full of mostly teenagers who also happen to be his children. This should be easier, this team is primarily adults.
He realizes rapidly that he doesn't understand these people.
His kids take bonding activities to mean learning a dozen different ways to break someones leg. That doesn't fly with these people. And that is most of Bruce's ideas, hell when he was a kid Alfred took every opportunity to get him out of his room and mostly that was with the agreement that Alfred would teach him how to defend himself. He's come by it honestly.
This team is not easier. They have more drama than when his house was actually full of kids. It's insane. He doesn't know what to do with it, usually he just sent the kids to their rooms or grounded them from patrol. That doesn't work here.
He comes to a strange crossroads. That falls apart when he forgets who he's working with and snaps at Hal with a full room of heroes that the next person to throw a punch or an insult without a reason too will be sparring with him.
A long standing rule in the batcave that worked two fold to prevent infighting between the kids and too ensure that they were well and truly trained.
It works wonders. No one says a word out of line for the rest of the debrief. Bruce becomes the unofficial mediator of the league over Clark because anytime he walked in on a fight it suddenly became 10 times more civil out of sheer terror of what he'd do to them in a sparring match.
Eventually they actually meet his kids. Well, one kid.
Half way through a mission (one of the rare ones in Gotham) the Bat comes to a complete stop at the edge of an alley. Every single league member on the team comes to a stop behind him. Slowly from the shadows of the alley a man in a red helmet stalks out to greet them.
"You don't call, you don't write"
"Red Hood."
"Don't Red Hood me! We've been worried sick!"
"I was at the cave last night."
"You didn't answer my texts B. You always answer my texts."
Somehow it ends with big and scary following them through the rest of the mission with a running commentary of how much Bats has let him down in his failure to respond in a timely manner to a text send less than an hour before he ran into them in the alley. It only ends when Red Robin shows up.
And even then it only ends because Hood can't keep himself from throwing a punch and Bruce has to snap at him that if he throws another one they're sparring when they get home.
And by god is Jason giving up the chance to punch his brothers.
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simonrileysfavteacup · 2 months
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The Morning After
Paring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x wife!reader
Word count: 700 ish?
Warnings: Mentions to sex, hickeys, naked people, Simon wanting you for breakfast
Summary: The morning after a steamy night.
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Sunlight creeps in through the curtains you never closed last night. The curtains fly around the room, pushed by the daring wind. The window’s are still open, letting in the chirps of birds outside. The wind pushes a breeze around the room and you shiver.
You’re laying on your right shoulder. There’s a heavy arm that isn’t yours draped across your waist. There’s a head tucked into the crook of your neck. There’s another forearm underneath your head. There’s someone’s heavy breathing going straight into your neck. You can feel a bit of stubble. You can feel hair, long, soft hair. You can feel a strong chest against your back. All of it is memorized in your mind.
And there’s only one person in the whole world who’s body you know inch by inch. 
You squint as you open your eyes, the sunlight almost killing you. The duvet is all messed up, barely covering your tangled bodies. His right arm is underneath your head, draped off your side of the bed. His grip on your waist is loose, he’s still asleep. His breathing is even, you can feel it. 
You push yourself out of bed slightly, making a move to shut the window and close the curtains. He grabs onto your waist tightly and pulls you back into the position you were in before. His voice is raspy, almost not even there, as he says, “Five more minutes.”
It should be illegal. His voice. His hair. His chest slowly falling and rising. It should be illegal to look this fucking good in the morning.
“Just wanna close the window,” You reply, keeping your voice hushed. 
“Who gives a shit?” He pulls the duvet higher over you, covering your naked body from the wind. “There. Now, give me 10 more minutes.”
His hand goes back to your waist, covering the soft maroon and purple bruises that formed throughout the night. 
So, you lay back down, take in a deep breath, and try to fall asleep. 
At least an hour goes by before you finally wake up again. Your position hasn’t changed and Simon’s hold on your waist is loose again. You finally move, getting up from bed. He doesn’t pull you back this time, but rolls over. He lets out a groan. “Oh, shut up, you big baby. I gave you more than 10 minutes.”
He doesn’t respond. Just lets out another groan, but louder and longer.
You grab the shirt he wore last night, the one he threw into a random corner of the room, more focused on your body. You toss it into the hamper. His pants and boxers are thankfully close enough to the hamper, yours nowhere to be found. Guess he was a little too excited.
You walk into the bathroom, getting a fine look at yourself in the mirror.
Hickeys and the traces of fingertips line your neck and chest, your hips and legs are covered, and I mean covered, in bruises. On both sides of your hips are marks of large, muscular hands. The marks are red, and it doesn’t look like it’ll all fade in the next hour. You turn slightly, getting a look at your back. Your ass is marked the same way your hips are, with large hand prints, your back thankfully okay. 
“You’re hurt,” Simon’s voice is barely above a whisper as he stares at you from the bed. 
This happens every time he leaves a mark on you. He turns cold again, becoming distant in fear of hurting you again. Every single time. It takes so many words of encouragement to get him to open up again, assuring him it didn’t hurt. 
“They’ll fade,” You shrug.
“I hurt you,” He whispers. 
“No, you didn’t. Last night was probably one of the best nights of my entire life, love. Don’t you dare think I’m in any sort of pain or anything. I’m fine,” You smile at him. “And I left a fair share of marks on you. Look at your back.”
He lets out a soft chuckle, looking over at you again. “Promise?”
“Swear on my life,” You smile. “You want breakfast?”
“Mhm,” He hums, walking over to you and kneeling in front of you. “It’s already served.” Are his last words before diving in between your legs.
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obsessivevoidkitten · 4 months
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How The Elf Saved Christmas
Yandere Rudolph The Red-Nosed Deertaur x Gender Neutral Elf Reader CW: Painful Noncon, nonhuman genitalia, size difference, possessive behavior, possessive sex, jealous behavior, general yandere behavior, rut cycle, reader fucked big stupid, overstimulation, cum as lube, mention of musk Word Count: 1.3k (This is your Christmas gift from me, I hope you enjoy it <3)
It was one of the earliest years since the start of the Christmas holiday. Rudolph had just recently joined the other deertaurs that drew Santa's sleigh. Not only did he have the magic ability to fly like the others, but he also could produce a fog and snow dispelling light from his nose. He was perfect to lead the sleigh.
Well... almost perfect.
A week into December, he started acting out. Behaving aggressively towards the other deertaurs, secluding himself, and acting unusually possessive over the elf who had been assigned as his servant.
That was you. You brought him his meals and made sure he was comfortable. Normally Rudolph was very low maintenance and your job was exceedingly easy. He was always considerate of you and treated you very kindly.
But lately, Rudolph wouldn't let you out of his sight. And snapped at anyone who got near you, especially if you happened to walk by another deertaur. One time, he even looked as if he was about to stab at Blitzen with his antlers.
The reindeer even looked different. His normally kind brown eyes were more frenzied and dilated. The normally straight, soft, brown hair of his human half was unkempt. And his muscular human body was always tense.
The other deer-men knew what was going on. But it wasn't like they could get near you to tell you.
Rudolph was in rut.
And he had determined, subconsciously, that you were going to be his mate.
The other deer hybrids had gone to Santa and apprised him of the situation, but he chose to do nothing about it. Forcefully taking away a rutting deer's love interest could get very dangerous.
Besides, Christmas was fast approaching, and the fastest way out of rut was for Rudolph to satisfy his urges. And really, what was the comfort of one elf compared to the enormity of the holiday? Christmas was at stake.
In your employee contract, you had agreed to uphold the sanctity of the holiday and do everything in your power to keep Christmas safe and running smoothly. If that meant you had to be a cocksleeve for a deertaur to keep his head clear so he could guide the sleigh, then so be it.
But even Rudolph didn't know why he was so irritable or why he was so odd in his behavior towards you. Why the thought of you being near someone else or out of his side filled him with rage and anxiety.
You were completely distressed. Your boss was acting so differently towards you. You couldn't even return to your little hut. Normally, you would be dismissed at nights but Rudolph wouldn't let you leave.
Instead, you were made to sleep in his house and on his soft, low to the ground bedding.
One morning, about a week away from Christmas, you both learned why he was behaving in such an egregious manner.
Rudolph woke up before you did and something about the way you lay sprawled out with your butt up in the air and your pants slightly falling off. You woke something up in him.
All his instincts shouted at him to breed this elf that was presenting themself to him. To claim you as his mate officially.
Careful not to wake you, because he didn't want you to struggle until it was too late, he pulled your red and green pants and candy cane striped underwear down to your knees. Then he proceeded to lower himself over you until he was in position.
You were ripped violently from your dreams as extreme pain rammed through you. Rudolph, now at the height of his rut, had jammed in all in one go and with no prep.
Your tiny elf body squirmed and writhed in confusion and pain, the frantic struggles sending waves of pleasure through his cock which was embedded so well within you.
"Wha-what are you d-doing?" You squeaked out through the pain.
He didn't bother replying.
Rudolph's body was all you could see above you as his strong thrusts moved you back and forth below him.
The act was raw, instinctive, and possessive. Like your personhood was being fucked away by this being much larger than you until you were reduced to his property.
Screams for help barely escaped your body. They went unanswered. Even if someone had heard you Santa would have told them to steer clear.
You cried and sobbed, powerless to remove the brute who was raping you. Though it seemed he finally had noticed the cries of his partner through his rut.
He slowed down his pace, just a bit.
Snow elves were small but extremely resilient and adaptable. That fact, combined with a slightly slower rhythm allowed you to feel a bit of pleasure as your body adjusted.
"Fuck! You feel so tight! You're just so small~ Gotta fill you with cum. Gotta breed. Gotta breed. Gotta breed..."
You whimpered as the deer man lost himself in his carnal desire to fuck you silly.
He slowed down as he came in you, and you thought you could relax. You went limp, but before you could catch your breath he started pounding into you with renewed vigor, roughly pounding you into the bedding.
Cum leaked down your thighs as his heavy balls smacked you. The smell of his musk filled the air and made you a slight bit dizzy.
The seed from the first round of breeding had lubricated you nicely, and he slid in and out of you in a much more pleasurable manner.
"You take me so fucking well!"
Your crying and sobbing gradually turned into gasps and shudders of pleasure as over the course of the next several hours you came over and over until you couldn't react anymore.
You just lay there and take, completely senseless and overstimulated. Weeping not from pain but from the sensations of seemingly endless mating.
Finally he came in you hard and left himself in a while before pulling out completely. His dick left you with a lewd squelch as at least a gallon of semen dripped from your well worn hole.
For the first time in weeks he finally felt somewhat clear headed.
"Gosh, I'm so sorry."
Rudolph picked you up, cleaned you, and fed you. You were too tired to protest.
The deertaur was remarkably tender for someone who had just taken you against your will, treating you like a snowflake that would vanish under the slightest mistreatment.
It was odd being served by him for a change. But you were too out of it to really give it much thought.
"I'm sorry I wasn't more gentle. But I'm not sorry that you're my mate now."
He was still in rut, and every single day leading up to Christmas Eve, he made you endure an hours long breeding session. You smelled just like him. As if his scent was ingrained in you at a cellular level.
Luckily, his rut ended just in time for him to be able to complete his job, guiding the sleigh without a hitch.
You tried to escape while he was out with Santa, but the higher up elves informed you that you had a new assignment.
You had to live with Rudolph permanently to make sure he never got wild again. His partner had to live with him. If they took you from him now, even outside of rut, he'd go insane. And he performed a very important task by leading the sleigh.
You should have felt honored. Not many elves got to personally save Christmas.
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liliacamethyst · 11 months
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Webs of Fate - Miguel O'Hara (Part II)
Sequel to Web of Secrets
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Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader
words: 5.2K
warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine, smut, time jumps, not really comic accurate (canon events), semi public piv, 18+
Part I Part II Part III Part IV
You are all back at the Spider-Verse Headquarters and the atmosphere is tense. Everyone is still high on adrenaline from the mission. You’re nursing a deep gash on your arm but your spirit is far from broken.
Miguel, however, seems to be on the verge of an explosion.
“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT OUT THERE SPIDER SUN?” he bursts out, his voice echoing through the HQ.
You're taken aback. “What do you mean?”
“That reckless behavior! You could have been killed!” he roars. “Why didn’t you retreat when you were injured?!”
“Because there were lives at stake! I can handle myself, Miguel!” you shout back.
“You think this is a game?! You think being part of this team is just for kicks?” Miguel’s face is red, his voice strained.
“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare question my dedication!” you yell, your own anger now matching his.
The team is watching, shifting uncomfortably. Gwen looks at Jess, who shakes her head. The room is thick with tension.
Alright, if you are being honest with yourself, your recent actions in the field could definitely be classified as reckless. Perhaps even bordering on idiotic - not that you’d ever confess that in front of Miguel. You didn’t know where your mind went. Wait, no, scratch that. You knew precisely where your thoughts were, every mission since you discovered your pregnancy has been like this; your spider senses dulled, focus scattered to the wind, and reflexes that would’ve made a sloth proud.
And then there was this mission – your first one in quite a while alongside Miguel. He was bound to notice.
So you were fighting an Electro variant from an alternate universe, alongside Jess, Gwen, Ben and Miguel. The electric villain was throwing bolts of energy left and right and everyone was giving their all. You noticed a civilian trapped under some debris. You made a beeline for them, not thinking about anything else.
As you lifted the debris, an energy bolt flew straight for you. Usually, your Spider-Senses would have alerted you but not today. It hit you square in the back and sent you flying.
You hit a wall but ignored the pain as you scrambled back to your feet. A sharp ache spread across your arm but you gritted your teeth and kept fighting.
Miguel yelled, “What the hell are you doing?! Fall back!”
But you didn’t, you kept pushing forward.
He landed next to you, his eyes filled with anger and something else, maybe a hint of worry. He grabbed your waist to pull you back. But as another energy bolt was coming your way, you shoved him out of the path, taking the hit for the second time. So yeah, you could say that this mission wasn't exactly the shining star in your superhero career.
“ESTÚPIDA! So damn stupid. I won’t fucking watch someone throw their life away recklessly!” Miguel was now yelling loudly in oyur face for everyone in the HQ to hear.
“Oh, please. What’s it to you? Since when do you care, Miguel?!” you shout back, finally having enough of his insufferable attitude. “All this time, you’ve treated me like I’m dispensable. Like I don't matter! Well, guess what? I can fight, I can make decisions, and I don’t need you to approve them!”
“Don’t!” Miguel's voice cracks, and for a brief second, there’s a look of hurt on his face that surprises you. But his rage quickly replaces it. “I cannot do this anymore with you, ¿me entiendes?” he yells.
The room falls silent. Everyone’s gazes dart between you and Miguel. You can feel Gwen’s worried eyes on you, and Ben Riley. looks like he wants to intervene, but this moment is too charged.
You take a deep breath, tears welling up. “I can't do this anymore either,” you whisper.
“What?” Miguel's voice is barely audible.
“I can't keep fighting for a team where I’m not respected or trusted. Where you treat me constantly like a liability, like I am worth nothing to you,” you say, your voice steadier now.
“You don’t know what you are saying,” Miguel says, his tone slightly softening.
You turn around, your eyes welling up once again and open a portal to your universe. “I do, I quit” you say, your voice breaking.
You reach into your pocket and pull out your transdimensional gizmo, the small device that every Spider-person uses to travel across the multiverse. It's an intricate piece of technology, a blend of science and magic that fits in the palm of your hand.
You toss the device on the table in front of Miguel. It skids across the surface before coming to a stop right in front of him. He looks from the gizmo to you, his expression unreadable.
"Take it. We don’t need it anymore." You say defiantly, meeting his gaze.
Everyone knows the implication of you returning the gizmo. Without it, you're effectively stranded in your universe, unable to return to the society. This isn't a decision made lightly, it's a point of no return.
As you step through the portal, you glance back one last time. You see Miguel’s face, contorted in pain, but he doesn’t move, he doesn’t speak and he doesn't stop you.
Your heart is breaking, but you can’t stay here. Not when it’s this painful.
You turn away and head toward the portal room, with one hand lightly grazing your tummy. Gwen calls your name, but you don’t stop.
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In the dim light of the room, the world seems to fade away as you lie there with Miguel on top of you. You are under him, breathless, your fingers running through his hair. His body pins you down in a tender, electrifying way, and you can feel the rhythm of his heart beating against yours.
His fangs graze the curve of your neck lightly, eliciting a shiver that runs through you. In response, he nuzzles into you, his breath warm against your skin.
"Ever think about what we're doing?" he asks in a whisper that vibrates against your neck.
"Constantly," you respond, your fingers tracing the curve of his broad shoulders, "but I don’t regret it, not a moment.”
He lifts his head, his red orbs searching yours. “Neither do I,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. His hand reaches up to trace the contour of your face.
"You know," you whisper, your hands continuing caressing his back, "I always wondered what it was like in your universe, in your time."
He shifts a little, propping himself up on one elbow as he looks down at you. His eyes, usually as unreadable, now seem to crack open; emotions swirl within them like stars.
"It was great, you know," his voice is gentle, each word enveloping you. "No, more than that – it was perfect," he corrects himself. His eyes never leave yours as he continues, "I had my Gabriella. Ah, you would have adored her." His voice softens to a mere whisper as if speaking her name too loudly might shatter the memory. "She was this incredible burst of life just like you. My own little sunshine. I didn’t know my heart could hold so much until she came into my life."
"The way she would throw her head back and laugh, it was like music. Her tiny hands – so soft and gentle. I remember how one of them always found mine, and the world felt... right." He continued, "I was never alone, never empty." He swallows hard, as if trying to keep the flood of emotions from washing over him.
You cup his cheek gently, smiling up at him. "You don't have to be alone, you know?"
He lets out a dry chuckle. “Sometimes it feels like there's no other option. It’s my fate."
“What scares you the most, Miguel?” you suddenly ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
He hesitates. “To lose myself… to forget what it means to care for someone,” he finally confesses.
“You won’t,” you assure him, your thumb stroking his cheek. “Not if you don’t let yourself.”
“¿y tú?” His voice is husky. “What’s your biggest fear?”
“To be forgotten,” you whisper.
He lowers himself and presses his forehead against yours. “Imposible,” he breathes. “You’re the sun. No one forgets the sun.”  He pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer until the world outside disappears.
Suddenly, his wrist console beeps, yanking him back to the present. "O’Hara, are you okay?" Lyla's voice echoes in the room, breaking the silence. He blinks, his gaze focusing on the holographic screen displaying the mission details in front of him. "Yeah, Lyla," he responds, his voice a bit hoarse. "Just remembered something," he murmurs, and refocuses on the screen before him.
Amidst the sea of codes and numbers, Miguel finds himself struggling to focus. His thoughts still are consumed by you, and a heavy realization crashes down upon him like a tidal wave - he’s lost you forever.
He always knew that this was how it was meant to be. This was the only logical conclusion, the inevitable outcome that he had tried so hard to deny. He was aware of the potential repercussions, the cosmic imbalance that could be brought about by your intertwining fates. 
Lyla had warned him multiple times, cautioned him against letting you close. But how could he have possibly resisted you? You, who shone brighter than the sun, who captured the hearts of everyone around with your aura and your kind soul. Your beauty was unparalleled, and your laughter had the power to fill a room, casting away shadows. He was a moth drawn to your flame, hopelessly captivated from the very first day he met you.
 But you were never meant to be his story, not the path his life was meant to tread. You belonged to another world, another universe.
"You're thinking about her, aren't you?" Lyla breaks the silence with her smooth, computerized voice. “No,” he interrupts her sharply, his voice a little too forceful.
But Lyla isn't easily deterred. "You know it was dangerous from the beginning, Miguel," Lyla continues. "Engaging with her like that...it could have caused irreparable damage to the multiverse."
"I know," he replies curtly.
Unyielding, Lyla continues, "This was never supposed to be a canon event. Her universe is not meant to mix with yours. It's fortunate that she left when she did. The damage could've been—"
“I KNOW!” Miguel suddenly erupts, his voice thundering through the room. He screams, his frustration boiling over, "¡Ya lo sé, Lyla! ¡Basta ya!" ("I already know, Lyla! Enough already!") With a loud grunt, he sweeps his arm across his desk, sending his keyboard, mug, and various other items crashing to the ground.
There is a deafening silence as Miguel breathes heavily, his chest heaving. His eyes are wide, his face is flushed and his fangs are bared. He never loses control, not like this.
Lyla, for once, remains silent.
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3 months later…
Back in Nea Yorkey, Earth 586 , you are perched on the rooftop, absentmindedly rubbing your stomach. Time has passed since you left Nueva York and Miguel, but your feelings for him are still a tangled mess. Damn these pesky pregnancy hormones.
 For once, it’s pretty calm out there. No honking horns in traffic jams or the usual buzz of people everywhere. It’s like the city hit the pause button and honestly, it’s kind of nice. The streetlights are like tiny fairy lights all over, and the tall buildings around you feel like they’re keeping you company.
The cool breeze brushes against your face, and you can't help but be lost in your thoughts. Thoughts of him. The relentless flood of emotions is almost too much to handle.
The flashback hits you hard, placing you right back in Miguel's office late one evening. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your backside planted firmly on his desk amidst strewn cables and metallic pieces and half-empty coffee mugs.
"Miguel, someone will catch us," you had warned, your breath hitching as he nipped at your skin, his hands deftly moving to undo your skintight suit. His hair was a little longer then, the ends tickling your forehead as he kissed you.
He had just chuckled, the sound deep and throaty, making your heart flutter. "They know better than to disturb me," he'd responded confidently, his lips trailing fiery kisses along your jawline.
Usually, Miguel was cautious about showing any sign of affection when others might be around, even if 'around' meant anywhere in the sprawling headquarters of the Spider Society. Yet, that night, he seemed to throw caution to the wind.
In his enclosed office, late into the evening, he let his guard down - a rarity. His lips were insistent against your skin, his touch setting you alight. You remember how the soft glow of the desk lamp had caught in his eyes, making them appear even more mesmerizing.
As he was holding your ass up steady and pounding into you, in a pace and fervor you never experienced before, you hear his communicator ring vibrating. You instinctively attempt to pull away, assuming he would answer the call, but he holds you tighter, his lips never leaving your skin.
His free hand pulls up a holographic screen,which flickered to life above the desk, revealing a slightly pixelated image of Jess. You panic for a moment, worried that she might see you in this intimate moment with Miguel, but he just shook his head slightly, reassuring you that she can't. He must have filtered the video feed on his end.
“Yes, Jess?” Miguel’s voice was steady, but his breath ghosted your neck in short spurts. He continued with his action, his thrusts a little slower but deep, nevertheless. You clamp your teeth down onto Miguel's shoulder in a desperate attempt to stifle the moans escaping your throat, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. You can barely contain yourself. Miguel's soft, amused chuckle vibrate through you as he wraps his arms around you protectively. Asshole.
“We’ve got an anomaly on Earth-4067, seems like a temporal rift,” Jess's voice came through the hologram.
“Have you tried the Q-particle stabilizer?” Miguel asks, his voice so casual it's almost disarming. His eyes meet yours, a playful glint in them.
“Yeah, but it didn’t work. The rift is actually growing,” Jess responds, the worry in her voice increasing. “What do you think we should do?”
“Alright, I want you to reconfigure the dimensional frequency to match the rift. Then patch the satellite feed through the Alchemax algorithm, reverse the temporal frequency by 4.7 hertz and use the resonance pulse to stabilize the rift,” Miguel articulates with authority as he continues to pick up his pace. You’re close to the edge, with the euphoria threatening to make you cry out. The sheer pleasure is now tinged with a faint edge of pain, and a wave of panic crashes over you. The thought of Jess possibly hearing you is nerve-wracking, and you’re now fighting to suppress your screams.
Your breathing becomes erratic as you whisper in a hoarse, needy voice, “Miguel, ‘m close."
"I know, mami. Come for me," he whispers back, his voice filled with a playful mischief that seems to defy the gravity of the situation. His hot breath against your ear sends shivers down your spine and the wave of pleasure crushes down on you.
“Miguel, are you sure about this? I mean, if something goes wrong…” Jess hesitates.
“I’m sure, Jess.” Thrust. “Do.” Another hard thrust. “it.” Miguel’s voice turns forceful.
“Okay, I trust you. But... are you alright? You sound kinda breathless,” Jess's suspicion returns.
“Oh, just...uh...running some diagnostics. It’s a bit stuffy in here,” Miguel replies with a smirk on his face, his fingers now gently brushing against your bare heated skin.
The rooftop is silent again, and you're still rubbing your belly, where the life you and Miguel created is growing. A bittersweet tear rolls down your cheek as you wish, not for the first time, that things could have been different.
You don’t know how long you are sitting there, taking in the city scene. But it was getting dark, when a familiar figure swings onto the rooftop. It's Gwen, carrying a small package in her hand. “Gwen? What brings you to Nea Yorkey?”
She walks up to you with a soft smile, "Do I need a reason to visit my favourite Spider-Ma? I've got something for you."
You raise an eyebrow as she hands you the package. As you unwrap it, you find a tiny Spider-Man hat, similar to the one Mayday usually wears. And to your surprise, there’s a tiny anarchy pin, attached to it.
"From the group," she says softly. She adds, pointing at the pin, "This bit here, that’s from Hobie." Of course it is.
You’re moved to tears as you hug the hat close. It's a simple gift, yet it means so much. You feel a lump in your throat, and Gwen steps forward, wrapping you in a warm, comforting hug.
"I...I miss all of you so much," you manage to whisper, your voice choked with emotion.
"We miss you too," Gwen replies, her voice equally soft.
You pull back, wiping your eyes. Gwen tries to lighten the mood, "So, any guesses on the gender? I bet it’s a boy."
You shrug, a small smile tugging at your lips, "I don't care what it's going to be. I just want them to be healthy."
Gwen grins, "Just remember, if it is a boy and he turns out to be a handful, you owe me a soda."
You both sit on the edge of the rooftop in a comfortable silence, legs swinging over the city, the conversation turns more serious.
"So," you venture, "how are things back at the Spider Society?"
Gwen’s expression turns contemplative. "It's been... strange since you left," she admits.
"Strange how?" you prod.
"Well, you know how Miguel was always a little on the, uh, grumpy side?" she says, making a grimace.
"You mean being a brooding fortress of doom and gloom?" you quip, and Gwen chuckles.
"Yeah, that. Well, he's gotten worse since you left. Like, way worse," Gwen's face turns somber as she continues. "He’s even more closed off than before. His temper’s shorter, he barely communicates, and he's been pushing everyone away. Miguel’s basically got everyone on lockdown. No unauthorized visits between universes. There’s this... I don’t know... this cloud hanging over him, you know?”
Your heart tightens as you take in her words. You had no idea that your departure had such an impact on him, or anyone for that matter.
“He doesn’t talk about it, but I think he misses you,” Gwen adds, looking directly into your eyes.
You are torn. Part of you wants to be angry at Miguel for how things went down, but another part aches for him.
Gwen nudges you. "Maybe he needs his sunshine back," she says with a gentle smile.
You sit in silence for a moment, the weight of Gwen’s words sinking in. “Don’t be silly. I was never his sunshine.”
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4 months later…
Beneath the pale glow of hospital lights, pain and joy mingle in the delivery room. The grip you have on the sheets gets tighter as you push to usher your baby into the world. Your hair is sticking to your forehead, your breath comes in heaving gasps, exhaustion painting dark circles under your eyes.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, a portal flickers to life outside your window, and Gwen, Peter B., and Hobie emerge.
“Make way! The party has arrived!” Peter B. exclaims loudly.
“I don’t believe in parties.” Hobie says as he struts in, clad in his Spider suit with a leather jacket over it, pins and patches proudly displayed.
Gwen knocks at your door. The midwife, busy with you in the labor, answers.
“Uh, who are you?” the midwife asks, slightly agitated.
“We’re friends of hers,” Peter gestures towards you, “is it a good time?”
You hear their voices, but you cant muster up a response all you can do is scream and push.
“Blimey, I didn’t think it’d be like somethin’ outta Alien! You alright there, love?” Hobie’s eyes go wide, as he enters the room.
You can't help but laugh through the pain, "Oh, just peachy, thanks for asking."
Gwen steps forward, immediately grabbing your hand, her voice soothing, “Hey, you’re doing great. Is there anything we can do?”
“You could get Hobie out of here,” you jest, rolling your eyes, but your smile betrays your appreciation. Another loud scream follows.
“You got this, luv!” Hobie shouts. “Just imagine the bloody contractions as guitar riffs! You’re about to release the raddest album in history!”
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you hear the cries of your newborn baby.
“Congratulations, it's a boy!” the nurse announces, handing the baby to to you.
You can’t help but laugh. Gwen steps closer to the bed and takes a peek at the baby. Her eyes light up. “Told you, it’s a boy. He’s absolutely beautiful,” she whispers.
Hobie chimes in. “Alright, let’s get a proper look at the little bloke!” He leans in, and his face softens. "Oh, look at 'im!" Hobie exclaims in his thick British accent, peering at him. "Little blighter's a spitting image of 'is mum, ain't he?” No. You see it then, the dark eyes with a hint of red glow echo the intensity of his father's gaze, the dark chocolate hair and the sun kissed complexion. He looked undeniably just like Miguel. You cant help yourself but fall immediately in love with your and Miguel’s little boy.
As they prepare to leave, Gwen, Peter B., and Hobie each take turns holding Gabriel and whispering well-wishes to him. 
“I can’t thank you guys enough for being here,” you say, wiping away a tear.
Peter’s mask is off and he’s beaming. "We couldn't miss this for the multiverse!"
Gwen follows suit, "Yeah! Plus, Hobie wouldn't let us hear the end of it if we didn’t."
“We’re family,” Peter says firmly. “Across universes and timelines. We’re always here for each other.”
With that, the trio put on their masks and with another whoosh, they're gone.
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1 year later...
One year has passed like a whirlwind. You've established a balance in your life. By day, you are a doting mother, and your world revolves around a little ball of energy named Gabriel. His laugh is the music that fuels your day, and his tiny hands holding yours make everything seem alright.
At night, though, you become someone else. Clad in a white suit adorned with golden sun patterns, you swing through the skyscrapers of Nea Yorkey as the Sun Spider. Your heart swells with pride, knowing that you’re keeping the streets and your little boy safe.
Your neighbor, Melissa, sometimes babysits Gabriel. She is a cheerful, quirky 19-year-old neighbor who dreams of becoming an Instagram influencer. You trust her (her career choice not so much) and, most importantly, Gabriel adores her.
Up until today, you believed that he hadn't inherited any powers. However, today was the first time he climbed up a wall and spun a web, without the aid of a web-slinger. It was the first time you witnessed him display such powers, and naturally, you were impressed. However, you also realized that being a mom would now involve dealing with a whole new set of challenges and responsibilities, making everyday life more exhausting than before. But you are up for the challenge;
Meanwhile, in the Spider Society’s HQ in Nueva York, Lyla’s holographic screen blinks red as she detects an anomaly in Earth 586 - your universe. She reports it to Miguel, who is still his grumpy self, seemingly even more irritable with each day passing.
“There’s a presence in Earth 586 that does not belong,” Lyla reports in her emotionless tone.
Miguel, sitting at his desk, sighs deeply. “Assemble the team. Pavitr, Lego Spider-Man, and... let’s bring in the newbie, Miles.”
Minutes later, the trio is briefed about the anomaly – a two-year-old child. They are to extract the child and bring it back.
Back in your universe, you're facing off against a notorious villain – The Shocker, who is on a rampage downtown. His high-frequency shock waves shake the very foundations of the buildings around you.
“Not tonight, Shocker,” you quip as you dodge a blast. “I’ve got a bedtime story to read!”
You're agile and sharp, but you can’t wait to get back home to Gabriel.
In your apartment, Melissa is on the couch, engrossed in her phone. She doesn't notice Pavitr slyly slipping into Gabriel's room. He can’t help but feel conflicted, seeing the innocent child asleep.
“This is the target?” Pavitr speaks in a hushed tone into his communicator. His voice is laced with doubt.
“Yes, proceed,” responds Miguel firmly.
Pavitr gently picks up Gabriel, cradling him in his arms. “Sorry, little guy,” he whispers and slips out.
Outside, they gather near the portal. Miles, who is visibly excited to be on his first mission, can sense the tension among the group.
“That was… too easy,” Pavitr murmurs, still holding the sleeping child.
Through the swirling portal, they make their way back to Nueva York.
Meanwhile, you web up The Shocker and leave him hanging for the police.
Back in the Spider Society's HQ in Nueva York, the team stands in a specialized containment room with the toddler still peacefully sleeping nestled in a makeshift bed of spider-web, completely oblivious to the attention he's attracting. One by one, members of the Spider Society trickle into the room, drawn by curiosity and concern.
Miles, who is new to the Spider Society, looks at the child with confusion. "I don't get it, what's so dangerous about a kid?" he asks.
Pavitr looks conflicted, “We have to determine where he came from and why he is considered an anomaly.”
Lego Spider-Man remains silent, trying to analyze the situation. He finally speaks up. "We should be cautious. Just because it's a child doesn't mean it's not potentially hazardous to the multiverse."
Miguel enters the room, his face cold and emotionless. He glances at the sleeping child, then at his team. “It doesn’t matter what it is. Anomalies threaten the balance of the multiverse. Every anomaly has to be returned to its home universe. That’s the rule.” he says sternly.
"But he's not an anomaly, boss," Jess adds, gazing fondly at the child. "He's a little boy."
Miguel’s gaze is unwavering, ignoring Jess. “Lyla? Whats the status?” 
Lyla's holographic form flickers into the room. "This entity possesses unknown powers," she declares, her voice ringing out with clinical detachment. "And according to my scans, it doesn't belong to any known universe. Therefore, it cannot be returned. It must be... eliminated."
Miles' eyes widen. “Wait, you mean…?” he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.
Pavitr steps forward, his fists clenched. “We can’t just... There must be another way.”
Back in your universe, you swing closer to your apartment, but your spider-sense starts are tingling with a ferocity you’ve never experienced before. Your heart races, and you quicken your pace. Bursting through the window, you find Melissa still sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone.
"Where is he? Where’s Gabriel?!" you shout, panic straining your voice.
Melissa's eyes go wide as she looks up from her phone. "What? He's in his room, sleeping," she says, but her voice falters when she sees the terror on your face.
You rush into Gabriel's room and find the crib empty. Your knees buckle, and a guttural scream escapes your lips. The room spins as you run back to the living room, grabbing Melissa by the shoulders.
"Did anyone come in? Did you see anything?!" you practically scream at her.
“I... I didn’t see anyone. I swear!” Melissa's voice shakes.
Your heart feels like it's tearing apart. You look around the room, desperate for any clue. You need to find your son, and something deep within you tells you that the Spider Society is where you need to go. You have to find a way to travel through the multiverse without a gizmo and the time is ticking. You have to find your son.
Back in the HQ in the midst of the tension-filled room, Gwen stands up, "Miguel, you can't be serious," she pleads, disbelief resonating in her voice. "We can't just... kill a baby.”
Miguel's eyes narrow. "Sometimes tough decisions have to be made for the greater good.”
Just then, little Gabriel wakes up. His big eyes wander curiously around the room, and he starts to make happy babbling sounds. Unfazed by his surroundings, he looks at each of the Spider-People with fascination.
As Peter B. is about to reach down to pick Gabriel up, the toddler crawls quickly over to Miguel. His little face lights up with the purest of smiles and he reaches his tiny arms towards Miguel as if trying to give him a hug.
The room seems to collectively hold its breath. Even Miguel seems taken aback.
Pavitr can't help it, “He seems to have taken a liking to you, boss.”
Gwen smiles, her eyes watering up. “See? Even this innocent soul can sense there’s still good in you.”
Tiny fingers grip at the fabric of Miguel's suit, baby Gabriel coos and giggles as he clambers up the towering figure. Planting tiny baby kisses on any part of Miguel he can reach, the toddler's joyous laughter rings in the silent room. "Vete, Vete." Miguel mutters. And despite Miguel's cold exterior, Gabriel is unphased, drawn to him as though an invisible bond exists between them.
Miguel looks frustrated and uncomfortable with the baby's affection. He awkwardly picks Gabriel up at arm’s length. But the little one is relentless, trying to cuddle into Miguel’s chest.
Annoyed, Miguel places Gabriel into a containment field made of energy beams, to keep him in place. The baby, though restrained, is still reaching out to Miguel with his tiny hands, cooing.
The room goes quiet again, and Gwen speaks, her voice soft.
“Look at him, Miguel. Please. You can’t tell me that this doesn’t affect you in any way.”
Miguel's face is tense, his jaw clenched. His eyes dart between Gwen and Gabriel. All eyes are directed towards Miguel. The room feels like it’s waiting for something to shatter.
“We do what needs to be done, no exceptions.”
Part III "Web of Shadow and Light"
a/n: Honestly, I can't begin to express how much your support and kind messages mean to me. I literally started crying when I saw how much love this story received. It means the world to me. Truly, thank you. I'd love to hear your thoughts, and if someone could give me a heads-up on whether the tag list functioned properly, that would be great. Also, apologies for any inconsistencies or logical errors regarding the multiverse or canon theory. I watched the movie but I'm not 100% sure of that's how it works.
Once again, I really do appreciate each and everyone of you. Please, don’t forget to take good care of yourselves and stay hydrated! ILYSM
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osaemu · 5 months
Text
GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜
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.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.
contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).
author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!
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ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.
at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.
last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be. 
but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.
you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant. 
a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”
you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”
after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”
“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.
but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.
it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.
“i don’t think this is working.”
six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.
“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”
“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—
“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?
satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.
“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace. 
satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”
your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”
“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”
you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”
“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”
his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”
your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."
you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"
satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.
he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."
you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"
satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".
and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.
satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you. 
and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.
the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.
a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.
as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.
toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?
toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig
you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.
satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.
the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.
so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.
“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?” 
the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.
“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”
nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.
suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry 
toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy
yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(
inumaki: chat is this real??
satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.
“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.
satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—
“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don’t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”
and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.
a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.
suguru: r u ok?
you: yeah ig
suguru: do u want anything?
satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.
but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read. 
somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.
the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.
when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”
you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.
satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”
you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.
the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.
after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.
you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.
“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once. 
“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”
satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”
“no, really, it’s alright.”
“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”
“let’s just go.”
the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now. 
the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time. 
after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door. 
satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn’t leave.
you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”
satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie. 
“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?
well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”
what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.
“i— uh, i mean—”
“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”
he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches. 
ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”
your heart breaks again.
“then why did you—”
“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”
you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.
“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”
“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”
“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”
satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”
“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”
“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”
“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”
“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”
“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door. 
“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes. 
“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”
he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”
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confessedlyfannish · 7 months
Text
DP x DC Prompt #6
Phantom is sitting at the Batcomputer, kicking his legs back and forth. With the seat last set for Batman's height, his feet barely skim the ground. He's propped his head up with one hand, examining something he is holding between his thumb and forefinger in the other.
He is very casual for someone who has never been told the location of the Batcave.
"Phantom," Batman grunts. Phantom doesn't glance his way, likely having heard the Batmobile pulling in.
"Hi Bruce," he says. "I had a nightmare last night."
It's important to note that The Justice League does not know Phantom's true age, although there are several theories:
Theory One: he is a ghost dating back to several thousand BCE. The proof of this is sparse but present, through written record of beings with white hair and green eyes and uncanny likenesses found in artifacts proven to be authentic. Could these truly be Phantom? Yes. However, there is
Theory Two: he is a teenager, as his visual presence suggests. This could be true even if his existence is thousands of years old, as his mentality might not have advanced beyond that of a child aged fourteen to sixteen when they died. This is supported by his general behavior and advanced knowledge of memes. The few times he and Red Robin have interacted, Bruce did not understand a word of it without extensive googling. But worse, of course, there is
Theory Three: Phantom is the age of his first recorded appearance in modern times, only a few years ago. Phantom's recorded appearances in the past were sparse compared to his consistent existence in this century, which could hint at a timestream accident similar to Bruce's own, if they are real. And ultimately, this would not be the first time a two year old presented as a teenager in form.
Two out of three options propose Phantom is a child, and so Batman's tone is gentle when he says,
"Did you?"
"Yeah," Phantom says, words almost a sigh. Whatever is in his hand catches in the lamp light, shining green.
It's kryptonite. Phantom is holding a shard of kryptonite.
"Sorry." Phantom twirls his chair around to face Bruce. He holds the shard out in his palm. "I called you Bruce, didn't I? I know you hadn't told me yet."
"That's okay," Bruce says. He takes the shard calmly, his suit's layered biometrics disguising the fact his heart is racing. He recognizes this chunk from his stores, kept in the secure, deepest, impenetrable section of the cave coded to his DNA alone.
He's been aware Phantom's powers include invisibility and intangibility, but the ghost has been benevolent, honorable, and heroic since introduced and he had allowed his guard to slip. All it would've taken is being tailed one time, and now he must rely on that benevolence.
"And I'm sorry about that," Phantom says, nodding at the belt Batman has tucked the kryptonite inside. It will do nothing to stop Phantom should he decide to pluck it away again, but kept out of sight in a lead-lined pouch still feels safer than out in the open.
"I needed to make a point." Phantom says. The words are threatening but his tone is not.
"Oh?" Bruce asks, wary nonetheless.
"I'm really strong," Phantom says. "I can walk through walls. I can disappear. I can fly. I can blast and freeze stuff. I don't need to breathe. Traditional weapons don't really work on me."
"I can duplicate," a voice says from behind Bruce. He whirls around, batarang in hand, to see another Phantom rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "That duplicate will have all the same powers," the doppelganger says, apologetically. He floats back over to the Phantom sitting on the chair and the two merge.
"I have bad powers too, ones I don't like to use. I can scream at things until they fall apart, even buildings. I can...I can possess people, and make them do things," he admits, unable to look Batman in the eye. "It's not that all ghosts are like this, pretty much all of them aren't, it's just that I'm one of the stronger ones, and I'm only going to get stronger, and the stronger I get, the more powers I might get, and the less weapons even made especially to fight ghosts will work on me."
None of this is phrased as a threat, but rather a confession.
"Why are you telling me this?" Batman asks.
"I had a nightmare," Phantom repeats weakly. He reaches under the computer table and pulls out a purple JanSport backpack, cotton dirty and frayed with use. He unzips the front pocket and pulls out a small plastic baggy. He offers the baggy to Batman, his hand shaking.
Batman takes the baggy, examining the contents. Inside are six tiny little dots. They look like poppy seeds, but held up to the light are a deep purple in color.
"Phantom, what are these?"
"Hemo Prunus," Danny says, eyes stuck on the baggy. He's paler than usual. "Colloquially: blood blossoms. At the time they were grown it was believed they required drops of blood to grow, but a friend of mine who likes plants thinks it's more likely they actually just like a higher quantity of iron in their soil. You know, truths found in witch's tales and stuff like that. I don't know much about their care beyond that but I do know they were grown previously in Salem in the late 1600s, early 1700s during their summer seasons with some amount of success so perhaps you can mimic that environment and go from there. From what I've gathered they're incredibly difficult to grow, but I figure if anyone can do it it's you."
"I'm not exactly the gardening type," Batman says dryly.
Phantom laughs faintly. He looks like he's about to pass out, which should be impossible and is not the correct reaction to gifting someone a rare piece of flora.
"Phantom," Batman says again, slowly. "What are these?"
"They're my kryptonite."
Bruce closes his fist over the bag immediately, taking several steps back to put distance between himself and Phantom. "Are you alright?" he asks sharply.
"I'm fine," Phantom says, waving a hand. "As seeds they just sting a little, like nettles."
That's not the reaction of someone being lightly stung, Bruce thinks. Phantom looks like he needs the chair he's sitting in just to stay upright.
Then the rest of his words click together.
"You're giving me these," Bruce says.
"Yes," Phantom says. "For safekeeping."
"To grow."
Phantom's smile fades. "For safekeeping," he says, looking at Bruce's belt. Where he has stored the kryptonite.
The enormity of what Phantom is entrusting him with hits Bruce like a ton of bricks, and he finally realizes that Phantom is not sick but terrified. He is quietly, deeply, terrified. Bruce also realizes that a reaction like that is not born out of fear of the unknown but is the reaction of someone who has felt the sting of the bee and felt their throat close up. At some point Phantom has felt the blood blossom flower, and the sheer memory of it is enough to make the ghost go almost catatonic with terror.
And he has still handed over the one weapon that can hurt him to the Batman, and told him all he knows on how to make more.
I had a nightmare.
"Is this all of it?" Bruce asks, the question coming out brusquer than intended. Phantom blinks.
"Yes, I'm sorry, that's all I could--yes that's all," he stammers.
Bruce shakes his head. "I mean, does anyone else have access to it? Is anyone else growing this that we should be aware of?"
Phantom can't mask a sudden shudder, his reactions always woefully transparent (pun not intended). "No, that's the last of it. No. No. I don't think," his eyes grow wider, "I don't think so," he whispers, to himself, an attempt at comfort.
Way to go, Bruce, a familiar voice whispers, you just scared the kid harder. Bruce drops the packet on a table beside him and strides forward to put a firm hand on Phantom's shoulder.
"I'll make sure of it," he says. He'll pull Kal in and together they'll make sure, the same way they raided every GiW base across the United States four months prior. Phantom looks up at him the same way he did then, with complete and utter trust.
"Thank you," he says quietly. "But if you do...if you do find any more, promise me you won't destroy it. Promise me you'll keep it, the same way you keep the kryptonite. Please, Bruce."
He's not just asking him to keep it. Another weight finds its place, settling on the Bat's shoulders like the cape he wears. Another contingency for a hero he fears will one day be a dear friend.
"I promise, Phantom."
"Danny," Phantom says, "My name is Danny. A name for a name, right?"
"Danny," Bruce says, heart growing ever heavier. "I promise."
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jinkicake · 11 months
Text
Spring Is In The Air~
Something happens to them when the seasons change. 
Itto, Tighnari, Yae Miko, Zhongli x Reader
A/N: I wrote this like two months ago and never posted it... I’ve always wanted to try writing something like this so here is my pathetic attempt! It’s corny BUT, smutty!!! :-)
WC - 2,224
NSFWWWW // SMUTTYYY
~~~
ITTO
Itto is not subtle. Try as he might, the poor oni cannot learn the art of subtlety. His reactions always give him away to you within seconds. 
His struggle can currently be seen in the way he braces himself against the counter but still attempts to stand up straight to play it off. 
“Hey,” He sounds breathless, almost as if it is hard for him to breathe. You know he’s going to break any moment now, you can see it as his chest begins to rapidly rise and fall. His breathing quickens and all you can do is stare at his expanding chest. “I need you.”
Itto breaks every spring and putting him back together is your favorite part.
“Fuck me, fuck me!” Itto groans loudly and the sounds, one after another, fly off of the walls. He’s absolutely losing himself as you bounce on his lap, up and down while your thighs pound against his own. The pace is fast, quick, and your knees are not able to handle it alone. It’s entirely him, Itto uses the strength in his muscular arms to toss you around on his lap. His tongue hangs out of his mouth, eyes squeezed together shut all while both of your hands are wrapped around his throat. “Yes, yes, yes,” It’s almost pathetic, the way he is singing your praise and grinds down onto the mattress. He can’t get enough of the feeling, of it all. 
Itto is loud in everything that he does and he never shies away from expressing his desires. 
“I’m gonna cum so fucking hard,” He sounds entirely desperate, almost as if he is about to break into tears. You squeeze your thighs together and watch his every reaction as you clamp around him. His reaction is almost imminent. Itto’s hands on your waist squeeze you tightly as his bare nails dig into your skin as he cums with a drawn-out groan. The oni chases his high without stopping, still wildly thrusting up into you just as before. His pace then grows slower, impossibly slow as he slams into you a handful of times. There’s something final about this but, you know better. 
This is just the beginning. It takes hours to satisfy Itto, especially during the spring. 
You don’t even have the chance to catch your breath before you feel him twitching inside of you again, now hard as ever. His fast recovery is almost as quick as his reflexes. Itto pulls you off of him within a flash before mounting you from behind. 
“I’m sorry, just one more, one more, okay?” You can hear how his voice shakes in your ear but, you don’t have the chance to reply as he effortlessly slides back into you. In this position, you can hear everything, every puff of air that escapes his lips and every whimper that falls. Itto cries into your ear, tongue lapping at the surface as he moves his hips at a quick pace. “You’re fucking me so good,” 
You can almost feel him in your fucking stomach as you clamp around him but, his brutal strides feel so good. Each thrust against your bottom sends you flying and you end up face-first in the duvet. Itto keeps you still with a firm hand on your hip but, you can imagine how broken his expression must be as he groans above you. 
“One more time, one more time,”
((It’s never just one time with him.))
TIGHNARI
“(Y/N), please,” 
Hearing the forest ranger beg is something you are not used to. Tighnari never begs or yearns for your touch and attention. If he wants something, he takes it with little hesitation. 
Except when the seasons begin to change. 
When the air grows colder, something primal shifts in Tighnari. You can see it in the way his eyes soften into pools of need and how he becomes much more sensitive to the slightest touch. If you even think about touching his fingers, over his gloves, he will drop whatever is in his hands. 
Tighnari becomes reactive all over. 
“It’s happening again.” He murmurs into your ear as he presses up against your side. His tail wraps around your thigh, squeezing over and over again as he ruts into your leg. “I need you.” When Tighnari gets like this, you know it’s best to just let him take. 
“You poor thing,” Your voice is full of sympathy, perhaps a bit condescending, and it makes the forest ranger whimper. His ears flatten against the top of his head as his eyes squeeze shut in concentration. Your quiet sighs and hums only make him more delirious, Tighnari burrows his face into the crook of your neck and simply inhales. His breathing gets heavier as his messy thrusts become erratic. If he had not been holding onto you so tightly, you’re sure you would have fallen to the floor by now. 
He cums with a gasp, one that sucks the air from his lungs, and he tries to hide it by biting on your shoulder. Tighnari grits his teeth against your skin as little whimpers leave his lips, his tail rapidly thumping against your leg. His weight becomes too much and you both sink to the floor under his passion. 
That first orgasm meant nothing to him, it’s merely a warm-up. 
Tighnari can’t even bring himself to guide you to your shared bedroom, he takes you on the floor. 
He can’t help the way that he spreads your thighs and licks, running his tongue along your slit. The poor man devours it all, spitting and lapping up at whatever he can reach. His harsh sucks make you shiver and squirm but, you can’t move under the tight grip he has on your waist. 
“Ah,” Whatever Tighnari planned to say is muffled by your cunt as he shoves his tongue inside of you. He thrusts the muscle as far as he can go, ears flattened in concentration while his nose grinds against your clit. It’s as if he has become utterly consumed by you, everything about you because all he can focus on is getting his tongue in you as deep as possible. 
But then, he suddenly pulls himself off of you as if it hurts to touch you.
In the blink of an eye, Tighnari is above you, staring down while his legs get situated between your own. 
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry but, I need it,” His breathing has become erratic, eyes almost feral as he begins to heavily salivate. With his primal urges brought to the surface, you know you won’t be able to leave this position and similar ones for a few days. “I have to- I have to fuck you.” 
YAE MIKO
With the amount of time you’ve spent beside Yae Miko, you know her exceptionally well. 
You know when something begins to shift within her, almost as if it is in the air. It’s seen in the way the other shrine maidens keep their distance and in the way Miko’s fingers dance along your skin as she grabs you at any possible opportunity. She makes sure that she’s touching your bare skin, her pink nails nearly breaking it as she stands behind you. 
“I require your assistance, pet,” Her breathy voice always confirms it for you and is the tell-tale sign of when her primal urges begin to show. She drags you by your wrist to a lone room, one decorated exceptionally well with everything you could need to last for weeks. Your lover’s touch grows lighter.
“You know what I need from you.” Yae Miko stares down at you as if she is truly looking down on you, her eyes hold little interest but you know better. You can see how her finger is nearly starting to tremble and how her lips have begun to part. “Come here,” She doesn’t even have to lift a finger for you to stand in front of her, within her grasp. 
Her lips are on you without another second to spare. Immediately, it’s all tongue. She parts your lips with tight squeezes of your sides before her hands move to paw at your breasts. While letting her tongue run over your own, shoving the muscle as far down your throat as she can, she towers above you. Her moans are low and entirely full of pleasure. 
You have a belief that her urges bring out something in you, something similar because you can’t help but want to be used by her every season. 
With heavy hands, Miko pushes you to the ground forcefully on your back. She slowly lowers to her knees, watching you carefully as you pathetically stare up at her. Your lips are still part and slightly swollen because of her previous ministrations. It makes her heart stop as desire stirs in the pit of her stomach. 
She spreads your legs with her slim hands and hooks one of your thighs over her own. Your underwear is discarded in seconds by her nails and her shorts are magically on another side of the room. 
Yae Miko’s lips turn slightly upwards, almost in a mischievous grin as she presses your leg to your chest and sits on top of you. She’s hot, the touch of her skin nearly makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. An immediate roll of her hips makes you moan loudly, the feeling of her sopping cunt against your own renders you speechless. 
“How funny,” She coos but, struggles to hide back her own shakey exhales. Desire takes the forefront of her brain and all she can think about is satisfying the demanding urge in the pit of her stomach. Over and over, she presses her clit against your own and rubs at the sensitive area while roughly thrusting her hips. This is only the beginning, you’re too aware of it. 
With the way Miko is squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipple, you can’t help but anticipate the rest of her plans with you. 
ZHONGLI
After spending lifetimes with Zhongli, you still end up winded when the seasons change. 
Your husband is a dutiful man and always gives you a fair warning, a notice before something ever happens with his body. However, sometimes a warning is not nearly enough. 
It’s been days since his insides have turned into a molten heat and Zhongli has not been shy about tackling this issue with you. You’re always so good to him, let him do whatever he desires just to satisfy the annoying urges. 
Day after day, he can’t help but grow stronger about his affections. He’s a selfish man and he desperately needs more. 
“Oh, you’re-” The words can’t even leave his lips as his head tilts back, a loud moan leaves his lips. Zhongli grits his teeth painfully, grinding them down as his hand tightens in your hair. He’s not being careful and neither are you. You continue to choke on him, around him, as your spit coats his entire cock. The cool sensation makes your husband’s thighs twitch as he grunts at the feeling spreading between his legs. 
You feel incredibly lucky that his primal form has yet to take over, perhaps it won’t even show this time around. It would be nearly impossible to satisfy him with another appendage hanging between his thighs. But, the thought still makes you moan wantingly. 
“My love-” Zhongli finds it hard to speak, his balls painfully tight and it only gets worse when he sees your hand hidden between your thighs. He focuses on your fingers moving against your clit and his eyes nearly turn into slits as he focuses on the image. The realization that this brings you as much pleasure as it does him causes a guttural groan to leave his chest. “Come here,”
His voice changes, it becomes much deeper, much more commanding. Zhongli doesn’t wait for you, he roughly pulls you up to your feet before pulling you into his lap. The way he manhandles you, forcing you to sit back on his face makes your entire being light up with need. 
“Morax!” You screech as your hands press into his abdomen, his tongue doesn’t waste a second now that you’re on him. The archon presses his tongue into your cunt, thrusting in and out before running the muscle over your clit. The stimulation makes it hard to focus but, you still reach for his heavy cock. 
You grip him tightly and lick at his slit, tongue digging into the area as you hum at the taste. Zhongli’s grip on your thighs becomes stronger and he fights back with his sharp nails digging into your skin. Had you been any more focused, you would have thought he had grown claws.
Your cunt pulses around his tongue and all Zhongli can do is continue to shove the muscle inside of you. He doesn’t shy away from rubbing against your walls, no, he has his own agenda. It’s almost sick how he coaxes you to gush around him, all so he can swallow it greedily to satisfy some gut-clenching demand. 
But, he can’t help it, he also can’t help how his skin begins to turn and scales spread across his arms. He can’t help but connect with his primal side when you satisfy the very deepest desires that he has. 
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waitimcomingtoo · 5 months
Text
Line Without A Hook
Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader
Synopsis: Peeta freaks out when you get hurt in the arena and gets teased for how much he takes care of you (catching fire arena)
Masterlist
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Peeta had barely gotten out the words “stay by me” when the cornucopia on the island starting to spin. Tributes flew off and fell into the water as others struggled to grip on to whatever they could.
“It moves?” Finnick shouted to no one in particular as he gripped the first arm he could see through the salt water spray. The arm belonged to Peeta, who looked to his side and panicked when he realized you were no longer there.
“Where did Y/n go?” Peeta shouted over the sound of the waves.
“I think she went over by the weapons.” Finnick shouted back as the dial began to rotate faster. Peeta looked into the center and saw Johanna and Mags struggling to stay aboard but no sign of you.
“Well she’s not there anymore.” Peeta shouted back as his anxiety grew.
“I’m kinda busy here, Peeta. I don’t know where your girlfriend went.” Finnick replied.
“There!” Wiress called and pointed towards one of the arms. Peeta followed her finger and saw you fighting with one of the careers on the edge of a spinning arm. You were winning the fight until another career threw an axe your way and got you right in the rib cage. Peeta just about lost his mind when he saw you go limp and fall into the water. He let go of the center and grabbed the first weapon he could see before sprinting toward where you had been.
“DON’T TOUCH HER.” He shouted as he threw his weapon at the career you had been fighting. It buried in his chest and sent him flying into the water. Peeta then dove into the water and forced his eyes open in an effort to find you. He followed the wavering trail of blood until he found your body floating in the water. By the time he pulled you to the surface, the dial had stopped spinning. Finnick helped him pull you out of the water and tried to give you CPR but Peeta pushed him out of the way. He did chest compressions and mouth to mouth as tears fell from his eyes and onto your face. Finally, your eyes opened and you coughed up some water. Peeta gently rolled you on your side so that you could get it all out and held your hand when you were done.
“Y/n? Are you okay, sweetheart?” Peeta asked as he held your hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.
“Peeta?” You coughed out.
“I’m here. Are you okay?” He asked again and brushed your wet hair off your face.
“I’m okay. It’s just a knick.” You said and winced from the pain of the wound in your side.
“I watched it happen. It was a lot more than a knick. And you’re still bleeding.”
“It’s fine. I just do that sometimes.” You tried to wave it off but Peeta was not budging.
“Come here. We gotta get you off this thing.” Peeta looked at the cornucopia angrily before carefully lifting you off the ground. He and Finnick brought you back to the beach and helped you lay down on the sand.
“Really. I’m okay.” You tried to assure Peeta once you were on the ground again.
“Let me see how bad it is.” He said and tried to rip your suit around the wound.
“Peeta, I’m fine.” You insisted and pushed his hand away.
“You’re not fine. Just let me see.” He pleaded. You knew he wasn’t gonna let it go so you sighed and unzipped the back of your suit. You’re gingerly rolled it down to your waist, leaving you in the black bikini top you had underneath. It was the least amount of clothing Peeta had ever seen you in so he blushed and adverted his eyes at first.
“How bad is it?” You asked him, making him snap back to the moment. He looked at the wound on your side and relaxed a little when he found it wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought.
“It looks worse than it really is. We just need to get it clean.”
“We?” You raised an eyebrow.
“You took care of me once. And I’m not gonna let you die from infection after everything you’ve survived.”
“But-“
“Just shut up and let me take care of you?” Peeta whined.
“Okay.” You smiled softly. “Fine.”
Peeta returned the smile before carefully picking you up. He walked into the water with you in his arms and went deep enough that the salt water could clean your wound. You winced and arched your back to stay out of the water.
“Sorry. I know it hurts.” Peeta apologized and bent his knees to put you back in the water.
“It really hurts. I want to get out.” You told him and flinched when a wave stung your side.
“Not yet. You have to keep it clean.” Peeta said sympathetically. You gripped his shoulder and hissed in pain as he dunked you in again.
“Look at them.” Finnick snorted and nodded towards you and Peeta.
“You think it’s real?” Johanna asked as she sharpened her axe with another knife.
“What?”
“The whole lovelorn star crossed lovers plot. Think it’s all an act?” Johanna asked as she watched the two of you in the water with the sun beginning to set behind you.
“I used to.” Finnick replied.
“Used to?”
“Yeah. I thought it was an act at first. I think we all did. But that boy loves her.” Finnick said most assuredly.
“Okay. That’s enough.” Peeta decided and carried you back to the shore.
“I can walk.” You chuckled when he continued to carry you up the beach.
“I know.” He said simply and continued carrying you. He gently laid you down by the rest of your group and knelt beside you.
“I need something to cover this.” He realized and looked around but all he saw was sand.
“Can you please get me some leaves from the jungle?” Peeta asked Johanna.
“Get them yourself.” She scoffed.
“I can’t leave her. Please, just help me this once.” Peeta asked again.
“Peeta, it’s okay. Really. You can go.” You assured him by taking his hand and squeezing it. He blushed when you did this and nodded his head.
“I’ll be right back.” He promised before running off into the jungle. He returned shortly after with a couple leaves and water in a coconut shell.
“I got some leaves and water. Can you sit up?”
“Yeah. Thank you.” You smiled in appreciation as you painfully sat up. Peeta held the coconut shell to your lips and helped you sip some water before using the leaves to create a bandage for your wound. The sun had set below the horizon at that point and you were definitely ready to go to sleep.
“You can sleep. I’ll keep first watch.” Peeta said as he read your mind. You usually protested and let others sleep first, but you were too tired to do that today.
“Thank you. Wake me up in a few hours so you can sleep too.” You told him as you laid down on the sand. Peeta sat beside you until the morning came and when you woke up, you realized he was in the same exact position as he was when you had fallen asleep.
“Hey.” You said through a yawn that hurt to complete. You winced and touched your side as you tried to sit up. Peeta put a hand on your back to help you sit up and immediately handed you a coconut shell full of water. You smiled graciously at him and drank the whole thing.
“When did you sleep last night?” You asked when you were done.
“I don’t know. Sometimes after-“
“He didn’t.” Finnick cut him off. You looked at Peeta for an explanation and he was red with embarrassment.
“What? You didn’t sleep?” You asked and smacked his arm.
“I tried to take over after I got a few hours but lover boy didn’t let me. He said he needed to make sure you didn’t bleed out.” Finnick continued as he headed towards the water to fish for some breakfast.
“P, you need to sleep. I was fine.” You said and shook his arm.
“I was too. I wasn’t tired.” Peeta replied and you knew he was lying. You gave him a look but he just looked to the side.
“I’m really okay. The salt water helped.” You tried to assure him.
“Oh, yeah. Salt water. We have to keep it clean.” Peeta remembered and stood up. Before you could protest, he scooped you up and carried you to the water. You didn’t complain this time even though it hurt to be in the water. You knew he just needed to take care of you or else he’d lose his mind with worrying. Once he was satisfied, he carried you back to the beach and gently laid you down.
“Are you hungry?” He asked once you were back on the sand.
“I’m all right.” You answered.
“Are you hungry?” Johanna mocked Peeta’s voice in a high pitched manner. You looked at her angrily as Peeta turned red.
“Instead of mocking me, why don’t you do something to help?” He said to her.
“Help how? No one else can get near her because of you. You should’ve seen the way he was watching you last night. I don’t think I ever saw him blink.” Johanna snorted. You looked over at Peeta and he was looking down at his hands with embarrassment. You put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it endearingly.
“It’s nice that Peeta cares so much. He’s right about infection. A lot of people have died from it in these games before they even realize what’s going on.” You defended him, making him smile at you.
“Oh, give me a break.” Johanna groaned. “Why don’t you two make out some more and get us some sponsors?”
“Yeah. Put on a show so we can eat.” Finnick laughed. Peeta shifted uncomfortably and you felt bad for him. You knew your fake relationship was a sensitive subject for him and now he had to listen to his allies mock it.
“Stop it.” You stated. “We’re not doing that.”
“Please? Just say your vows again in front of the camera. I’m starving.” Johanna whined.
“Then go hunt.” You snapped.
“Come on. What’s the point of being allies with the star crossed lovers if you’re not gonna kiss and get us some parachutes?” Finnick asked with a teasing smile.
“I know. I thought we’d at least get something when Peeta nearly lost his mind after not being able to find you for-what was it- two minutes? I thought his head was gonna explode.” Johanna added on.
“So did I.” Finnick agreed. “If you think about it, we don’t even have to kill the other tributes. Let’s just hide Y/n for a few hours and let Peeta kill everyone while he tries to find her.”
“Leave him alone. No more jokes.” You ordered all while Peeta stayed silently looking out at the waves. Everyone was quiet for a minute and you assumed the jokes were finally done. Peeta looked at you and smiled sadly so you took his hand and squeezed it.
“If they show us how they made that baby, I bet the Capital would send us a feast.” Johanna said to cut the silence. Finnick burst out laughing, making Peeta get up and walk away. You watched him walk into the jungle before looking at Johanna and Mason angrily.
“Look what you did. Why’d you have to tease him?” You asked and smacked Finnicks arm.
“Sorry. Go check on him. Tell loverboy I didn’t mean to make him cry.” Finnick pouted teasingly. You rolled your eyes at him and got up off the floor.
“You guys don’t know him. He’s a lot stronger than you give him credit for. Don’t forget that he won his games.” You said in Peeta’s defense. That left Johanna and Finnick silent as you walked off into the jungle in the direction Peeta had gone in. You found him using the spile to get some more water from you. You weren’t even thirsty from how often he’d been getting you water but you weren’t about to tell him that.
“Hey.” You said as you approached him.
“Hey. I was getting you some water.” Peeta said without looking at you. You could tell he was upset by what the others had been and you hated that you couldn’t even talk about it without the cameras picking it up.
“Thank you.” You smiled softly at him as you took the water.
“If you’re hungry, I can go pick some stuff. I know Finnicks been catching a lot of fish so if you need something sweeter, I can try and go find a berry bush.” He offered and still didn’t look in your eyes. You took him face and turned his head so that he had to look at you. He finally looked into your eyes and smiled sadly.
“Thank you.” You said sincerely. “But really, I’m really okay. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I know you can take care of yourself.”
“I can. But I appreciate you taking care of me. I just don’t want you to worry about me so much. We all need to be on high alert. I can’t be taking up your thoughts all the time.”
“But you do.” He said with a sad smile. You smiled back before pulling him into a hug. He hugged you back and was careful not to put his hands anywhere near your wound.
“I’m sorry they were teasing you.” You said into his ear.
“It’s okay. I deserve it for being so sensitive.”
“I like that you’re sensitive. It’s one of my favorite qualities of yours.” You told him as you pulled out of the bush but kept your arms around him.
“One of?” He raised an eyebrow.
“I like your banana bread too.” You replied, making him roll his eyes.
“Oh great. She likes my banana bread.” He chuckled. “That’s not one of my qualities.”
“I know. But I think about it all the time. I smell it sometimes in my dreams.”
“I’ll make you some when we go home. Your own loaf.” He promised you.
“I can’t wait.” You said through a sad laugh. You knew there was no possibility of that happening, but it made you happy to imagine anyway.
“Do you think we’ll go home?” Peeta asked after a beat of silence.
“I don’t know. We did last time.”
“Yeah but what are the chances of that happening again?” He said quietly.
“I try not to think about it.” You admitted.
“Me too. That’s why I spend so much time thinking about you.” Peeta replied. You looked into his puppy dog eyes for a while and stayed in comfortable silence. Peeta stared at you and touched your hair to keep himself grounded.
“I killed that guy.” Peeta said suddenly in a quiet voice.
“The one who attacked me?”
“Yeah. Him. I threw an axe at him. I could’ve just punched him but I didn’t. I went for the kill.”
“Why?” You wondered. You weren’t mad, it just wasn’t like Peeta to kill someone.
“Because he attacked you.” Peeta said simply.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you kill.”
“I didn’t either.” He admitted. “Do you think differently of me?”
“No. As long as you don’t try to kill me now that you’ve tasted your first blood.” You joked.
“I would never hurt you.” Peeta said sincerely.
“Oh, I know. I was just kidding.” You assured him.
“I know. I just…I don’t think you understand what you mean to me. I saw that guy put his hands on you and I just lost it. I saw red. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I thought he was gonna take you from me.” Peeta’s voice cracked on the last part so you pulled him back into a hug. You swayed back and forth and rubbed his back to calm him down.
“Hey, hey, hey. I’m okay. You saved me.” You said in his ear.
“I can’t lose you.” He sniffled and hugged you tighter.
“You won’t.”
“I can’t.” He repeated. “So when I’m a pain about keeping your wound clean or drinking some water, please just listen to me. I need to know that you’re okay.”
“Okay. I can do that.” You assured him.
“You better. Because I swear to God, if you die-“
You cut Peeta off by pulling out of the hug to kiss him instead. Peeta stiffened for a moment at the unexpected contact but then melted into the kiss. The kiss didn’t last very long because Peeta got in his head about the motive behind the kiss.
“You don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to.” He pulled away to whisper to you.
“I know that.” You said simply and reconnected his lips in a kiss. Peeta cupped your face to keep you close as he kissed you back. His insecurities melted away into the kiss and he let himself believe you really did feel the same.
“Hey, lovebirds. Get a room or join us for breakfast.” Finnick called from the beach. You pulled out of the kiss and rested your forehead against his.
“I wish he’d leave us alone.” Peeta sighed.
“I got this.” You told Peeta and turned to Finnick.
“I thought you wanted to see how we made the baby?” You called back. You could hear Finnick laugh as he walked back to the water to catch more fish. All while Peeta was a blushing mess over what you were implying.
“You hungry?” You asked Peeta once you were alone again.
“Can we just stay here for a while?” He asked you. You smiled and nodded your head to show him you weren’t going anywhere.
“As long as you want.”
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yanderenightmare · 4 months
Text
Gojo Satoru x darling
TW: NSFW, noncon, fantasy au
gn reader
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Thinking about hunter Gojo and the pretty little nymph that gets themselves snared in one of his traps.
You can’t get your poor leg loose, having twisted your ankle in your fall to the ground – something’s wrong with your wing too, you can feel it – the thin network’s been folded, almost broken – so even if you did manage getting loose, you wouldn’t be able to fly away.
Branches snap around you along the crunch of old leaves – and your heart’s beating out of your chest in fear of it – knowing something large and dangerous is not far behind, that whoever set the trap is not something that wishes you well.
“You’re not a rabbit.” The man says, having crept in close before you’d even heard him approach – crouching in front of you with a hunter's grace. Hawk-eyes ice-blue and piercing, hair as white as pure snow.
He’s got three daggers sleaved in his belt – a fillet knife, a gutting knife, and a larger one you imagine is meant to slice throats. He doesn’t carry a sword like most men but has a bow and sack of arrows slung on his back. Otherwise, dressed lightly – brown leather boots, brown slacks, and a blue cotton shirt. You could have mistaken him for a woodland elf if it weren’t for the thick stench of man.
“Eating creatures from the holy forest is forbidden.” You snip, despite your wide eyes and the wobble of fear evident on your lip.
He only smiles at the quip, a grin like a predator humored by prey. “You wouldn’t tell a wolf not to hunt.”
He stalks you, leaning in closer, and you try shuffling away – but the movement only makes you wince.
“I’m just another hungry animal…”
Rope gnaws into your fine skin while his breath puffs hot and dewy on your face.
“And tonight… seems lady luck has favored me once again.”
He gags you and ties you further up before redoing his snare for the next unlucky creature – then carries you over his shoulder until he’s dropping you down on a bed of furs.
Your skin flushes with goosebumps at the thought of being skinned the same way – mouthing a little prayer around the cloth he’s split your teeth and lips with. He’s cut trees down as well; you hear their pitiful screams when he lights a fire with their bodies. You mourn them, too.
At his full height, the man must be two heads taller than any male nymph you’ve ever seen and at least three heads taller than you. You hope you’re enough to satisfy him tonight, to spare the forest of further bloodshed.
You shiver and sniffle when he starts prepping you – removing your clothes and groping your tender, fleshy places with a strength you’re not used to – hands large and crass – kneading you like dough – probably to assess the quality of your meat. He has a smile on his face while at it. 
Humans make you sick – to think he’s planning on roasting then eating you despite the soul fueling your spirit and the beating heart in your chest. But you’ve long known that all death but their own matters little to them – they don’t feel the same way nymphs do – they don’t regard life with the same respect they’ve donned themselves. It must be a sad and lonely existence, you think. It even makes you feel a little sorry for him.
You yelp when his gritty fingers brush the area between your legs – shimmying when he lowers his mouth down to the same place. Oh God – does he plan on eating you raw? While your body’s still hot and pumping blood?
But the bite never comes – not yet eating but tasting it would seem – licking and slurping and sucking on you.
He takes his shirt off. Probably to avoid spilling on it, you think.
You don’t really understand what’s going on until he’s got his fat manhood pointed toward your kernel-sized hole. Eyes wide as he splits you apart slowly and unabashedly – as though it isn't as deviant as a dog mating a cat – sinking in inch after meaty inch.
You whimper at the stretch – wincing when the plush mushroom-shaped head grinds against that special place inside you. 
It doesn’t fit more than halfway, but that doesn’t seem to bother him – rolling his head back with a rusty groan, even with just the tip gaining purchase within you – pounding into you like a beast in his rut.
“What's the matter, pretty nymph? Did you think I was gonna eat you?” He laughs, bearing over you – his hands steadying your hips to meet his sharp thrust – each hit deeper than the last. “I’m the only hunter in this forest; I can eat what I want when I want – but eating you?” He scoffed and snickered. “That would just be a waste.”
The blood on his breath makes you wrinkle your nose – squeezing your eyes shut as his tongue sweeps up the tear streaks on your cheek.
“My stomach’s already full. Time to empty my balls.”
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fangisms · 7 months
Note
hiii i loved „spring breaks loose”!!🤍 could i request another something for theodore, where the reader is quite bubbly and loves talking and he, the quiet guy he is, just likes to listen? and maybe the reader is worried that she talks too much and it could be annoying to him but he’s just so in love that he’s obsessed with all her rabling😭😭 sorry if thats too specific
darling socialite
A/N: um i love this because if someone let me chat their ear off, i would fall in love. i love a chatter and i love a listener 🩷 gif creds: @perfectlyfuckingcivils
Pairings: Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader
Summary: You are talkative as all hell, and Theo has dubbed himself your devoted listener. 1.3k words
Warnings: i be cursing, fluff, mild self-consciousness, two dummies in LOVE, mattheo being a perv (boy moment), kissing…, pansy being a slight bitch (lovingly)
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Everyday, you look forward to telling Theo anything and everything. Sometimes, you'll get so excited to tell him something that you'll jot it down on the nearest surface. Most of the time, that surface is your hand. Who can blame you; you can't resist the gory details.
Everyday, Theo looks forward to hearing anything and everything from you. You're his favorite news source, his sweetest messenger, his darling socialite, and he is your devoted subscriber. He's worried one day you'll run out of things to tell him, but according to the ink splotches across your skin, there's a slim chance that'll happen.
"Hi, teddy!" you chirp, and he turns to welcome you into the seat beside him. "You will not believe what I saw in the courtyard on my way here: a willow tit!"
Mattheo chokes on a gulp of juice, sputtering in his seat and looking over at you. "Pardon?"
"Don't be crude, Matty. I'm talking about birds."
"Yeah, I got that, I just never realized you’re playing for the other team—"
"Mattheo!" you holler, glaring at him in utter disbelief, "you complete idiot! Birds, as in real birds. As in those things that fly around and chirp and eat berries!"
"Let me get this straight, we're not talking about some bird's tits? Suddenly, I'm uninterested," he says, earning a pointed glare from Theo.
"Anyway," you say, rolling your eyes and facing Theo, "You hardly see them anymore, they're very rare, but I saw one, and it was the cutest creature I've ever seen on campus! It was so round, I could have died. He must've liked all the rain we got over the weekend. I hope he survives the winter and has lots of little tit babies in the spring!"
Theo could not be more head over heels for you while you babble about round tits and babies. He thinks if he ever opens his mouth to respond, he’ll screw it up in an instant. Thank Merlin, he's naturally quiet and content to listen to you all day. And thank Merlin, you never ask for anything more from him.
If only you knew how much he truly adores you and your ramblings. He holds your company in his highest regard and considers every time you choose him a blessing.
You never think too much of Theo's tight-lippedness. You figure if he was completely sick of it, he'd just get up and walk away. Or maybe that's not like him, and maybe you are a bother.
It doesn't help when Pansy skips up to you in the hall and says, "I'm really impressed you're able to hold Theo's attention as long as you do."
"What are you talking about, P?" you say.
"Well... don't you ever worry he's, like... bored with you? I mean, when was the last time he actually contributed to your 'conversations'. I just don't want you to get your hopes up, you know?" —she shrugs it off like it's not an unforgivable curse to the gut—"If I were you, I'd find a more attentive playmate. You can always talk to me!"
"Thanks, Pansy," you say.
"Just looking out for a friend! See ya!"
You nod and wait by the bottom of the stairs as she hops her way up. You didn't think you were getting your hopes up, necessarily. You thought Theo was just a good listener. And sure, he's not super responsive, but he's just shy. That's not his fault.
There's a rapping of knuckles at the door, and Mattheo hurdles his bed and reaches for the knob.
"Why, good evening, dearest birdwatcher"—Theo perks up from where he's rifling through his trunk.
"I could say the same to you, perv," you tease, "Is Theo around? I need—"
"To talk to him? Figures. He's just hiding his softcore stash—"
"Shut up!" Theo hollers, popping up and hurrying to the door, a little flushed to find you looking at him, "he's just joking."
Mattheo chuckles, "No, he's right, Theo would never have so much fun"—he dodges the jab to his side—"Alright, I'll leave you two lovebirds to your tits and whatnot. Try not to make too much noise, we have downstairs neighbors." He winks and makes his way down the boys dormitories stairwell.
And suddenly, Theo can't remember the last time he was truly alone with you. No onlookers or eavesdroppers, no Pansy and no Mattheo. Just the two of you. His sweaty palms and your rapid heartbeat.
"I need to ask you something," you finally blurt. He looked so nervous you thought he might throw up over the railing, so you put him out of his misery before he has the chance.
"Yes, yeah, anything," he huffs.
"Well," you say, "I was thinking—just... ruminating, really, because it was suggested that I bore you with my chattiness"—you cross your arms over your chest and look to the floor—"and not that I'm begging for pity or even a response, I just wanted to know how you feel because I realized maybe I don't ask about you enough. You know, like I'm always worried about me, or something, but I do worry about you, too! I just wasn't sure if that's something—if you maybe wanted to talk about it more. Because I can be a good listener! I'd be happy to hear whatever you have to say!"
Theo leans his shoulder against the doorframe, adjusting the bottom of his sweater as it clings to his hips. How could he let you believe you're too much for him. How could he let you believe yourself to be some kind of social burden to him. All because he'd much rather listen to you than contribute his own two cents.
"See! Merlin, even now, I've just talked your ear off while trying to apologize for constantly talking your ear off! And I haven't even apologized, yet! I'm so sorry, Theo, I know it's a problem, and I didn't mean to take advantage of your politeness."
You scuff your sole on the landing with a whine, and he leans to the side to watch you look over the edge. It's so quiet for a moment, he can hear your soft breathing if he focuses on it.
"It's not a problem," Theo says. You look over, lips parted at the smug look on his face. "And if I was the one who suggested otherwise, I couldn't be more apologetic."
It makes you smile. He's just said two very thoughtful things to you. Out loud. To your face. You could crumble.
"No! No, teddy, it wasn't you, it was... doesn't matter. You really don't mind?"
He shakes his head, a little amused, honestly. How could he mind? You’re the greatest thing since dark chocolate, and he’d still give that up. You’d go just as well with his afternoon tea.
“Well, then,” you huff, warmer under his gaze, determined to get this damned apology across.
“Alright,” Theo says. Apology accepted. Apology not even necessary. But still accepted.
“Okay. But next time you catch me rambling, you better just shut me up! Tell me to ‘shush’ or something! It’s a problem, and I give you full permission to—”
He kisses you. He leans down, smug with his fingers under your chin, and he kisses you! Shuts you right up like you’re still some gullible first year completely wooed by his boyish charms! Oh, but he’s kissing you very sweetly. And when your knees go a tad wobbly, he rushes to cradle your elbow.
“Like that?” he says.
“That’s no way to treat a lady, Theodore. You should be completely ashamed of yourself for ever thinkin—”
He kisses you again. More sure and much quicker. Like a reflex. A knee jerk reaction without the kneeing or the jerking. Just his stupidly soft lips.
“Yeah,” you whisper, “that works… but you can’t just kiss me every time you want to shut me up.”
“No”—he pecks your lips, fingers gentle at your cheek—“I plan on kissing you much more often than that.”
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