#look i just think that could have been maybe presented a little better

[hollytoshaw]

hiii i know you havent posted in a while but if you are still taking requests would you do blurb or smau of harry and reader buying a new house maybe in guernsey or london and its just cute domestic vibes ? love your work :)

ahhh love this idea!!! i'm still taking requests just been a bit slow getting round to them all because i'm back at uni and have a load of work i need to do :( but hope you enjoy this little blurb!!! xx

home | harry lewis

summary: y/n and harry move in to their forever home

word count: 1.8k

warnings: mostly just a cutesy/fluff blurb but references to sex at the end

The day had finally come for Y/N and Harry. The day they were about to move into their new house. Sure, they had shared a quaint but homely London flat for the past five years, but now they were onto bigger things. Their first proper forever home. 

To say Harry was bricking it was an understatement. Of course, the pair had done their fair share of moving around, life tucked away in cardboard boxes, but this was the real deal—probably the last time they’d ever have to do this, and God, there was so much to do, and Harry felt completely hopeless. He’d spent the last half an hour trying to get the garage door to open, slapping the remote aimlessly with his hand to try and get it to work, and pulling his hair in defeat when it didn’t. It turns out he had been using the wrong remote the whole time, and instead of opening the garage door, he had been toying about with your house's light system, the lights inside the house flickering on and off as he sighed in frustration outside unknowingly. He was stressed, and Y/N was inside, thinking they had faulty electrics.. It was a great start. 

Another five minutes passed, and Harry had given up, deciding his car looked much better parked on the driveway anyway, and took it upon himself to unload some more boxes from the boot of his car. He walked up to the house, rummaging in his pockets for the house keys, cursing under his breath when he saw sight of that stupid remote that had caused him torture for the last few minutes—he'd have chucked it in the bin at this rate, but knew Y/N would give him a telling-off for being so silly. Shoving the key in the door, he opened the blue door that had drawn the pair in the first time they came to view the house—his favourite colour being blue and Y/N loving the pop of colour it gave—a warm welcome to future guests that the two would definitely have. He placed the two boxes he had managed to carry from the car and kicked off his Air Forces, abiding by Y/N’s  ‘No Shoes’ rule that she had gone on and on about, not wanting to dirty the brand new floors. 

He could hear the faint sound of some pop song he didn’t know the name of as he made his way down the hallway, a fresh smell of paint wafting into his nose. He leaned on the doorframe, not before tapping his finger to check if the paint had dried and luckily it had as he couldn’t think of anything worse than getting paint all over his new hoodie. He could see the woman he loved trailing around the kitchen, cupboards open, and boxes all over the marble kitchen counter. She had a determined look on her face as she placed different glassware and plates into cupboards—shiny new ones but also some that Harry had recognised from their old flat. She couldn’t see him as he watched her intently, struggling to lift a heavy box that was filled to the brim with more kitchenware. He knew he’d ought to help her because she was struggling, but the sight was something to enjoy, and a smug look was present on his face as he watched his love scuffle around the kitchen in her pink crocs and his old jumper that was a few sizes too big for her. 

‘’You need a hand, lovely?’’ he teased as she whipped her head around at the sound of his voice, plates nearly falling out of her hands.

‘’Fucking hell, Harry’’ She gasped, steadying the plates in her hands, leaving them down on the counter as she looked properly at him. He had a cheeky grin on his face that made her want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. ‘’Don’t sneak up on me like that.’’

‘’I would have warned you, but I can’t bloody hear myself think over this shite music.’’ he laughed as he made his way over to the counter and pressed the volume down on the speaker that was bellowing endless pop tunes. 

‘’Don’t hate on Sabrina Carpenter; she’s an icon.’’ 

‘’I haven’t a clue who that is.’’ Harry narrowed his eyes at her as she made her way towards him, wrapping her hands around his waist. 

Looking up at him, Y/N laughed, ‘’Course you don’t, you old man.’’ With a kiss to his lips, she smiled, and she took her arms from his waist, wanting to get a better look at him. ‘’How was your day?’’

‘’Was alright.’’ Harry sighed, ‘’Saw the lads for a bit and picked up the last of the boxes from storage, but that’s all. How was yours?’’

‘’OK. Better now you’re home.’’ she smiled. 

The word home almost made Harry’s heart explode out of his chest. It just sounded so good and so right. This place was home, especially with the two here together. 

‘’Think there’s a problem with the electrics though; the lights kept flickering earlier. I hope this place isn’t haunted - they never advertised that.’’ She laughed. 

''Oh, for fuck sakes.’’ Harry cursed, pulling her hand so that her body was nearer to him and away from the counter. ‘’Well, at least I’m here now to protect you from anything scary.’’

Y/N snorted, ‘’Some job you’d do at protecting me—you're scared of everything, silly.’’

''Oh, shut up and gimme me a kiss.’’ he said before separating the space between them once again. 

✩ ✩ ✩

A couple of hours had passed, and Y/N and Harry had managed to unpack all the boxes from the kitchen, living room, and bedroom, leaving all the others piled up in a spare room, ready for them to tackle the following day. To say they were exhausted would have been an understatement.

‘’I’m here all day tomorrow.’’ Harry hummed, ‘’What’s the unpacking plan?’’  

‘’Hmm, I’m thinking we start with the spare rooms.’’ Y/N yawned, her body relaxing into Harry’s body as the pair lay on the sofa, his hands delicately playing with her hair. ‘’Then maybe we could do your filming room; you’ll need that soon enough, won’t you?’’ 

‘’What about your office?’’ Harry asked, knowing Y/N loved her little office she had in their old flat. The two loved one another’s company, don’t get them wrong, but sometimes it was nice that they had their own separate little rooms where they could get on with whatever they needed to that day with no distractions—Harry mostly shouting at his computer filming a More Sidemen video and Y/N working on her fashion blog, headphones on so she didn’t hear her lover screaming every ten minutes. 

‘’That can wait. You need your room done more than me; you have all that filming to do.’’ She poked at his side. 

‘’You’re an angel, d’you know that, ’’ Harry smiled. ‘’We’ll try to do both.’’

Y/N hummed into him, knowing that they probably would only end up doing one room before Harry ended up getting distracted while he unpacked, finding some random useless item he had kept from 2014. ‘’We’ll try.’’

‘’You feeling tired?’’ Harry asked as he kept playing with her hair. She always got tired whenever he did it, usually lulling to sleep half the time, but Harry didn’t mind; he enjoyed watching her pretty eyes flutter to sleep, knowing she felt safe in his embrace. 

‘’Not really.’’ She lied. ‘’Why, what are you thinking?’’

Pulling his hand from her head, she looked up at him dreamily, and it was like she could see the thoughts spinning around his head as he watched her intently. 

‘’Just thinking we haven’t christened the house yet is all.’’ He smiled, a smirk toying at the corners of his mouth. 

‘’Christened the house?’’ Y/N laughed, moving to prop herself up to get a better look at her smirking boyfriend. 

‘’Yeah, you know, like they do in the movies.’’

‘’What sort of movies have you been watching?’’ Y/N snorted. 

''Oh, shut up, don’t you start,’’ Harry tutted playfully, ‘’Y’know what I mean.’’

‘’Go on then; tell me more.’’ Y/N teased.

Harry laughed. So she wanted to indulge him. Thought she was tired? Bullshit.

‘’Just feel like we’ve got a lot of rooms to christen, big house and all,’’ He pressed a kiss on her cheek. ‘’I’m thinking we start upstairs and work our way around the house.’’

‘’All in one night? You’ll be knackered.’’ She teased again.

‘’We’ve got forever, lovely, not just the night,’’ Harry smiled. ''Plus, I think you’ll be the knackered one once I’ve had my way with you.’’ Pressing another kiss on her other cheek. 

‘’Is that so?’’ Y/N’s voice spoke. Yeah, she wasn’t tired anymore at all.  

‘’Yes, doll,’’ Harry grinned, ‘’Don’t pretend you don’t know it.’’

‘’Hmm,’’ she sighed before getting up from the sofa, untangling herself from his grasp and the mounds of blankets that surrounded them. ‘’Race you upstairs then.’’ She said this before legging it out the living room door. She could hear Harry groan from the sofa as she waited momentarily outside the doorway, not wanting to run too far ahead of him. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever moved so fast in his life, chucking the blankets and his phone to the side as he raced out the door to see her not that far ahead of him, nearing the staircase. 

‘’Thought you were faster than that, lovely.’’ He laughed as he chased after her, hands flying out in front of him to try and take hold of her hand but failing as she was always just a few inches ahead of him. 

‘’Come on, slow coach.’’ She echoed from the top of the stairs, and he could see that his hoodie that she’d been wearing for the past few hours had been discarded over the bannister. What a menace, he thought. 

With her just out of sight, he took heavy steps up the stairs before pausing at the top, letting out a sigh of happiness. His favourite girl in the world, running around their house as she shouted for him from their bedroom—he could so get used to this, he knew that for sure. 

Their home together, forever.

✩ ✩ ✩

a/n: hope you enjoyed this little blurb!!! i'll try and get back to doing my requests and series updates more frequently - just need to find the time x

#w2s #wroetoshaw #w2s x reader #harry wroetoshaw #harry lewis #harry w2s #sidemen #w2s fic #w2s imagine #wroetoshaw imagine #wroetoshaw oneshot #hollytoshaw #chris md #arthurtv #sidemen x reader

[moodymelanist]

Want to write the reverse of your wlw nessian drabble where cas doesn’t realize she’s gay yet but nesta thinks cas stares at her boobs a little too much to be straight

hell yeah I do. hope y’all enjoy this one and happy @nestaarcheronweek day 4 🩷 got the title from tangerine by kehlani hehe

Read on AO3 here!

“Are you going to keep staring down my shirt, or can we get this presentation done?”

Cass startled so badly at Nesta’s words that she nearly knocked over her water, only barely managing to catch the reusable bottle at the last second. “What?”

Cass and Nesta had been paired up as partners for their advanced writing requirement course, and they’d been making steady progress on their presentation in one of the library’s group study rooms. Cass was an education major to Nesta’s political science, and Cass had never been so excited for a group project in her life.

At least, until Nesta had shown up to the library wearing that shirt. It was just a simple, blue, wrap-tie shirt, but between the way it made Nesta’s eyes look even bluer than usual and the way it perfectly cupped her breasts, Cass was having a difficult time staying focused on the task at hand.

“Sorry,” Cass said, hoping her face wasn’t as red as it felt from being called out. She’d thought she was being more discreet, but Nesta had clearly proved that theory wrong. “I was just, uh, zoned out.”

“Were you zoned out the other three times, too?” Nesta fired back without missing a beat.

“I…” Cass trailed off, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound insane. “I just think your shirt is really… cute.”

Nesta Archeron was easily one of the most gorgeous women that Cass had ever seen. With her gray-blue eyes, bronze hair, and amazing fashion sense, Cass spent most of her time wanting to be just like Nesta. Granted, Cass was way too much of a tomboy to pull off even a quarter of Nesta’s wardrobe, but a woman could dream, right? And who better to dream about that Nesta Archeron, especially when she had on a shirt like that?

“Right,” Nesta replied with the most deadpan voice Cass had ever heard. She sighed heavily before shutting her laptop altogether, fixing Cass with a slightly incredulous look. “Are you ever going to get your shit together and ask me out?”

“What?” Cass blurted out, all the blood in her body rushing to her cheeks. God, she hoped her face wasn’t as red as it felt. “I don’t—”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Cass, I can do this assignment in my sleep. I just wanted to make sure my gaydar was working.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cass answered. Okay, maybe sometimes she found herself staring way longer than she should’ve when it came to pretty women, but that was just… what everyone did. That didn’t mean she was anything more than a strong ally, no matter how many times she cringed when a man came near her.

“Don’t you?” Nesta asked, cocking an eyebrow. She leaned forward, a victorious little smirk gracing her lips as Cass’ eyes immediately tracked the motion. “Well that’s a yes.”

“It’s not my fault you have a great rack,” Cass blurted out, her brain to mouth filter evaporating altogether.

Nesta snorted. “I’m not making you look at it.”

“If I wasn’t looking, I’d have to be dead,” Cass muttered.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” Nesta retorted with a roll of her eyes.

Before Cass could think of a proper reply — Nesta thought she was pretty? — Nesta reached out and grabbed a hold of Cass’ chair, pulling her own so close that there was no room to escape. Not that Cass was feeling particularly inclined to do that, anyway. It was dizzying having Nesta so close; she was pinned under that icy gaze and couldn’t back away even if she wanted to.

Cass didn’t want to.

“I’m going to finish this assignment when I get home,” Nesta said, her voice low and offering no argument. “Give you some time to think about… things.”

“Think about what?” Cass said back. She was hardly breathing as Nesta leaned in even closer, placing her hand on the chair in between Cass’ thighs for balance.

Nesta was close enough now that it would’ve been easy for Cass to lean in and kiss her, and find out if her lips were as soft as they looked. Cass’ lips parted in anticipation, every thought in her mind besides Nesta emptying out like they’d never been there at all, and she was torn between leaning forward to kiss her or letting Nesta continue to order Cass around like she owned her.

What the hell was wrong with her?

“That’s what I thought,” Nesta breathed after a few moments, her lips still dangerously close to Cass’ own. When Nesta laughed quietly at Cass’ reflexive frown, Cass could almost feel the vibrations on her lips, and God wasn’t that a thought. “You’re taking me to dinner tonight.”

“I— okay,” Cass agreed. God, she hoped she didn’t sound as dumbstruck as she felt; Nesta didn’t suffer fools, and Cass wasn’t trying to be one. “Whatever you want.”

Nesta finally leaned forward to press a kiss to Cass’ cheek, pulling back with a smirk. “I think we’ll get along just fine. See you later.”

Cass watched Nesta grab her things and saunter out of the room, the only thought in her head I love when women…

Well. At least one woman, that was for damn sure.

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @fieldofdaisiies | @goddess-aelin | @c-e-d-dreamer | @talkfantasytome | @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk | @sv0430 | @talibunny30 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @champanheandluxxury | @lilah-asteria | @burningsnowleopard | @sayosdreams | @readskk | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @bellaful08 | @readergalaxy | @podemechamardek | @pearlfortears | @nerdperson524 | @jmoonjones | @kale-theteaqueen | @autumnbabylon | @hiimheresworld | @illyrianshadowhunter | @dustjacketmusings | @live-the-fangirl-life | @that-little-red-head | @sweet-pea1 | @brieq | @queercontrarian | @jsmelodies | @afflicted-with-wanderlust

#acotar #acosf #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #moodymelanistwrites #anon asks #Nessian prompts #wlw!nessian #pro Nessian #pro nesta archeron #pro cassian #Cassian acotar #nestaweek2024

[haikyu-mp4]

In need of a manicure

word count; 2086 – gn!reader I think, nb! too much blushing

You’re a manager for Date Tech and have been watching over them since the start of the year. The most recent memorable addition to the team was Koganegawa, nicknamed by the third-years as the giant setter. He didn’t progress especially fast, but he had a strong will and nothing could fit better into the group of the iron wall.

After a training match with Karasuno, you noticed Koganegawa talking to Kageyama, the so-called genius setter, about taping up his nails and fingers. You’d already noticed the dark-haired boy fixing his nails between matches, keeping them clean-cut so he wouldn’t have to use tape. That awakened an idea, and you had your own conversation with Tobio a bit later for some tips.

That’s what led to you bringing a nail file to school the next day, quietly observing the team’s volleyball practice until they were finished. Now’s the time to initiate your plan. The boys were tired and sweaty, and you handed out their water bottles with a smile and ‘good job’ for each talented player. After they had cooled off a bit and were about to start cleaning up the gym, you tapped Koganegawa on the shoulder, waiting patiently for him to turn his attention around. As he turned to you, he straightened up with an immediate nervous reaction, as if you were some sergeant of the military.

“Hi, Kogane?” you started, heat rising to your ears at the attention. “Do you have a minute?”

“ANYTHING YOU NEED!” he responded loudly, even bowing. You weren’t that startled, already getting used to that kind of behaviour, but you waved your hand a bit to try and calm him down.

“Can I see your hands, please?” you asked, already looking down as he hesitantly put them up even if he repeated your request curiously. You could see some of the other players glancing at you two with a curiosity matching Koganegawa’s. “I asked Kageyama how he cares for his nails…” you somewhat mumbled, in the process of unwrapping the tape from the boy’s fingers while he looked at your touching hands with wide eyes. A warm blush was taking over his face, making him glance over his shoulder at his upperclassmen and then quickly back at you, almost afraid that the opportunity would just pass him by if he looked away.

“Because- uhh... because he doesn’t tape them?” he managed to ask, trying to breathe even if you were so close. You looked up at him, giving him a bright smile that almost melted him. The only person present who didn’t know about Kogane’s little crush on you seemed to be yourself, not noticing how a boy or two were hiding behind Aone so they could laugh in secret.

“Yes! I was thinking, maybe if we take care of your nails, you won’t keep hurting them. Sorry… I heard you tell him about that.” you said, relatively confidently at first before it turned into a mumble at the shy confession. Koganegawa almost teared up, bowing again.

“THANK YOU!” He didn’t get to say much more, as the other boys made dramatic comments about how lucky they were to have such a caring, beautiful manager. He wanted to say more, like how that was a really great idea, but he seemed to be stuck with the cute smile on his face. You just let their words brush off your shoulders, already fishing the nail file from your pocket and starting with his thumb. You held his hand in yours, the other one filing away carefully, avoiding the sore spots where the nails were already damaged. His hands were so strong that you imagined he wouldn’t need as much tape just for blocking.

“I’m sorry if I was a bit too straightforward.” You started excusing as you were about halfway, carefully dropping the hand you finished and looking up at his face, which wasn’t that easy when you were so close. These high school boys were so tall.

“Not at all! Well, yes.. but… I don’t mind,” he answered, finally finding his voice if only to make sure you didn’t excuse yourself for being especially nice. His eyes carefully gazed upon your face, especially focusing on the rosy tint of your cheeks. He hadn’t seen it so often because you were typically very comfortable around the team.

“Good!” You responded with a smile, but it trailed off into an awkward silence. You had expected Koganegawa to give you his other hand, so you waited until you realised you would have to pick it up yourself. “Almost done,” you mumbled as you did.

“Maybe I’ll be a better setter if I don’t need to have them taped up all the time,” he wondered under his breath, eyes now watching your connected hands again while you filed. You made sure there were no ridges or anything. That’s why it was taking so long! Not at all because holding his hand even like this was kind of nice.

“You’re progressing very well as a setter,” you answered automatically, knowing so from how you watched them. It was your job in the club, after all, to keep track. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself more than necessary just for a club,” you continued, chuckling to yourself at the thought of how Kogane made this into a contact sport within the team, tumbling into the other blockers when he got a bit too excited. His ambition and spirit were part of what drew you to him in the first place.

Kogane wondered if there was smoke in his lungs, feeling them tighten and then butterflies erupting at your kind words. “Th-thank you,” he said again. Most of the other guys had finished their own business of cleaning out the gym and were moving on to the locker room. Futakuchi might be mentally preparing something for Kogane to fix when he was done being pampered. Not out of jealousy or anything…

One week later, you’re sitting in your classroom with your friends. It’s lunch period and you’re all chatting away about this or that. There was some extra energy in you to finish this school day, knowing that you have volleyball practice after.

However, your attention suddenly diverts from your friend who is telling all of you about something she watched on TV, to a head of angry-bird hair quickly zooming past the windows out in the hallway. Only a second later, Koganegawa appeared in the doorway. His eyes looked around for a moment before finding yours and lighting up like a golden retriever. You sent him a small wave and your friends stopped talking abruptly as the tall setter walked towards you. “Hello!” He said, perhaps a little too loudly for the setting, but no one said anything about it.

“Kogane, what’s up?” You asked, a bit confused. It’s not that you minded, but you rarely communicated with the players outside of the club unless you passed each other in the hallway. The boy bowed to your friends and looked back at you.

“I was thinking, maybe we should do my nails before practice this time?” he said with emphasis on ‘before’ and looking quite determined.

You laughed, a kind of nervous yet happy reaction. It was short and light, but you couldn’t help but adore him. Kogane wasn’t sure how to feel, but he didn’t have much choice but to stare when you looked so gorgeous. “You’re right!” You finally said, leaning over your bag to fish out the nail file again and letting your friends go back to their conversation while you had your attention elsewhere. They already knew about your crush on the setter from how you spoke about him, even if you didn’t know yourself. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll do it in between finishing my lunch.”

Following this episode, some might say you paid even more attention to Kogane than before. He would come into your classroom at least once a week so you could fix up his nails, even going as far as adding nail polish which he really liked. Especially when yours matched. For volleyball practice, it seemed like he was turning to you every time he felt he did something right and it would always surprise him how you were already looking at him and sent him a thumbs up. The team was fed up, not seriously of course, but there was something disgusting about this whole young love thing. How you two would blush and stutter, awkwardly trying to spend more time together while also trying to not be too obvious in your approaches. They just had to do something.

So Futakuchi swept up beside you after one particular practice, leaning on your shoulder as if you were so much shorter than him. “Fancy joining some of us to go get food?” He asked as if it was the most charming offer ever.

You snorted a laugh and hummed for a moment as if considering, before shrugging his arm off you. “Sure.” You glanced over your shoulder at some of the other guys who were slowly emerging from the locker room. “Who’s going?” You asked, obviously curious about one person in particular, and the smirk on Futakuchi’s face made it obvious that he knew.

“Your favourite will be there.” He teased before winking and walking back to join the others.

When all of you got to the chosen fast-food restaurant, you were walking alongside your favourite setter in front of the others, not noticing anything around you as you discussed whatever odd topic came to mind. It was fun and you enjoyed talking to him outside of school or practice. Maybe you should do this more often. You were so distracted, in fact, that neither of you two noticed when all the others scrambled away and left you, giggling to themselves. Koganegawa was the one who finally looked around, about to ask Onagawa something.

You stopped as well, asking “Where the hell did the others go?” Koganegawa checked his phone, eyes widening at the message from Futakuchi in the team group chat that you managers weren’t in.

Say we had to leave and take your chance to hang out;)

So he looked at you, stuttering for a moment before explaining. “Futakuchi said they had to go.” It wasn’t a very convincing or fleshed-out explanation, but with the captain’s name involved you could only sigh and accept your fate. He wasn’t slick, to say the least.

“We can just order and leave if you want,” you suggested with that sweet smile of yours, looking up at the guy with somewhat hopeful eyes. At least he wished they were hopeful.

“I don’t mind hanging out,” he answered, sticking to the script he got. “If you want!” and so you both nodded and settled into comfortable conversation, spending the evening eating and learning more about each other outside of the court.

Next practice, the team was shocked to find out the two of you still weren’t admitting to your feelings for each other. Still blushing and giggling and trying not to be too obvious while everyone else watched on, dumbfounded.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Sakunami asked Koganegawa while they were getting dressed for practice, making him nervous just thinking about it.

“What if she says no,” he pouted. Futakuchi pinched between his eyebrows, putting a harsh hand on his underclassman’s shoulder.

“We promise you she won’t.”

So while you were handing out the water bottles, Kogane just asked.

“Y/n! Will you go out with me?” he yelled and closed his eyes, like not seeing your face would make the possible rejection better. You waited with rosy cheeks and that sweet smile of yours until he peeked one eye open.

“Yes.”

Years later, after high school had passed and you both tried to figure out your lives before settling into some jobs that might be permanent or might not be, you and your high school sweetheart decided this was a forever kind of thing. The two of you wanted to figure out all of life’s obstacles together, and Kogane got the assistance of his new teammates for a sweet and small proposal. Kyotani and Tsukishima were not exactly overly excited as they distracted you for an hour or two before leading you to the magical spot your boyfriend had picked out, where he was waiting with the brightest smile.

Let’s just say your fiance’s nails and yours looked exceptional in the engagement photos.

masterlist

/This is actually one of the first pieces I ever wrote for Haikyu, but I felt like it wasn't good enough to post

#haikyu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu #hq x reader #fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #hq #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyu fluff #koganegawa kanji #koganegawa x reader #date tech #dateko

[good--merits-accumulated]

OK, SEVERELY rambly post incoming but - Anderperry Stardust (2007)/ The Little White Horse AU, anyone?

Rundown: I think many of us are familiar with Stardust, originally a Neil Gaiman book but also a great film, starring Claire Danes as a falling star and That Guy Who Plays Daredevil as the lad who promises to bring her to the girl he's infatuated with. The Little White Horse is, to the best of my knowledge, more unknown, but equally very good (for sentimental reasons, I think of it much more highly than Stardust). Published in 1946 by Elizabeth Goudge, it tells the story of thirteen-year-old orphan Maria Merryweather, who moves to her cousin Sir Benjamin's Moonacre Manor in the West Country, where she finds a) a thriving cosy community and a long family history, b) the little white horse of the title, c) a longstanding family feud cutting off Moonacre from the sea, d) her imaginary best friend Robin, real and in the flesh, and e) some of the most deliciously-described food that has ever been or will be. It's a great book even past the rose-tinted glasses of my childhood. Go read it. (The one (1) marring is that you can't find a bloody edition that doesn't have a JK Terfling quote pasted onto the cover, because apparently it was one of her favourite books, but fuck OFF, I'm reclaiming it now. Thou shalt not keep the cosy low fantasy from me.)

Anyway even though I mention Stardust this isn't really part of the AU I have in my mind, except for the bit with the Star, because Todd as a main character who thinks he's a very forgettable bland boy-in-the-corner until he finds out he's a star is a great thought to me. Particulars on /how/ he's a star to be fleshed out later! (I only thought of this AU about two hours ago, lol.)

In my mind this is how it goes - nebulously Olden Times setting (TLWH is set in 1842, so perhaps then). Todd is around seventeen/eighteen and Geoff has just graduated from university, and gone off around Europe, accompanied by their parents. Months go by. Something happens - he's never given the liberty of knowing, but Geoff and their parents stay in Europe, and the townhouse in London is sold, and Todd is packed off to stay at a distant relative's - Keating, as it turns out. It's a blessing in disguise, because Todd is finally away from his family for the first time in his life and around people that appreciate him. He begins to bloom under this new care - but there are strange family secrets only now being revealed to him, and dark forces beyond the valley which threaten to disrupt the haven he's found...

The rest is very cosy fantasy, featuring Mr Perry as the local uptight vicar locking horns with Keating at every opportunity, Neil as his withdrawn but friendly son just longing for a rebellion, and more! (Read: Charlie is here and he is Outrageous as usual. Read also: Pitts as a sailor because I think he'd like it.) Right now I'm thinking of adding an equivalent of Monsieur Cocq de Noir for a villain (Mr Perry is NOT the villain), and Cameron can play a part there so I can give him a good redeeming! Here are a couple of extracts from TLWH to show the kind of mood/tone we're working with:

Thematically, I REALLY like the idea of Todd as a star because it allows me to work in a very fun trope, of "not of the rose but near the rose" - when a character perhaps is shy and a little quiet and reclusive, but inspires other people around them to brilliance and greatness. (Honestly I do think this kind of goes in with the film, where it's not just Keating's teaching but Todd's reaction to it and his presence that galvanise Neil to continue.) This ties in really well if Todd's a star and adds to the overall self-confidence journey - plus I was really thinking about the sun/moon motifs! They're very prominent in TLWH (Maria is a "moon" Merryweather and Robin is a very sunny boy), and I really want to implement them here with slight twists. I think of Todd as a sunny moon; yes he's warm and caring and cheerful but once you go a little closer it's more of a luminosity rather than a blaze, there's a coolness and quietness to him I like. You know, a quiet character doesn't always have to be quiet because there's something "wrong" with them, sometimes they're just like that. For Neil it's the opposite, he's a moony sun; under the thumb of his father he's polite and decorous and demure but somewhere under all of that there's a very loud and booming laugh and a healthy sort of ruddiness. I don't know, I just like sun/moon motifs!!!!!!!!!!

(On a more personal note: this AU, which I already love very much despite not having known very long, would be above all a careful love letter to the West Country. It's been lovely living around here almost all my life and by this time in September I'll be hopefully up very far north at uni, so I'm pre-emptively kind of :') about it. Mutuals who are at uni/college how on earth did you cope?)

#story time! the little white horse was actually the first book i ever read #all by myself in english. i'd only just learnt it #and a friend's grandparents gave me a copy as a present - i must have been four or five #thanks phyllis and peter. i miss you :( #anyway i revolved around that book for the better part of a year #even years and years later sometimes i walk home from school #down the big hill that looks over the valley with the lightning-burnt tree stump at the bottom #and when it gets green and bowery in the summer #and the little hollow at the foot gets very thick with cow parsley i always think i could find the entrance to moonacre #in it. if i really really looked #:') #maybe i will write this over the summer #anderperry #dead poets society #dps #tristan writes #ah. can you tell i'm feeling so so sentimental.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Infernal Shadows

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it.

Song for this chapter: The world we knew by Frank Sinatra.

A/N: I wanna make this a three part short story, so if anyone is interested in being tagged in the second part just let me know!! I hope you enjoy!!

Word count: 2655

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part two

Getting an invite to the annual crimson ball, hosted by yours truly, was nothing but an honor. Every overlord and every sinner in the pride ring waited anxiously for a letter. A black card with white letter in a cursive font stating ‘You have been personally invited by Hells biggest designer. The list of the gala was simple. The usual overlords, Zestial, Carmilla Carmine and her daughters, Zeezie, Rosie, Fredrick Von Eldritch and Bethesda von Eldritch. Alastor who had came back after seven years of hiding god knows where, and by special request, the three vee’s who had never attended the gala before. Then it becomes a bit more political.

Next on the list was the Goetia family, inviting the recently divorced prince with his daughter. Inviting Lucifer and Lilith, though they only ever came when everyone was gone. Then was their daughter Charlotte, who got a plus one as a special perk of being the princess of hell. Husk because he had been an old friend of yours before his status of Overlord was taken from him by none other than Alastor. He was also given a plus one, though he usually never brought anyone extra. Sir Pentious was a candidate, but ultimately scrapped from your list of invites as you felt he was too childish.

The gala was tonight and everything was going smoothly. Preparations were almost done, the foyer was spotless just the way you liked it, and everything seemed to be falling into place. You stared at yourself in the mirror. You had spent months designing your perfect dress for tonight. Everyone attending the gala knew there was only ever one color off limits, because you always wore it best. The color black always suited you perfectly. No one could wear it better than you.

Back at the hotel, Charlie felt guilty for using her authority as princess to have people help her get ready for this gala. Based on what Alastor had told her, there would be a lot of political powers and fellow overlords there. She wanted to look her best if she was going to pitch the hotel to them. She needed more people on board with the project, maybe someone who didn’t think it was complete and utterly ridiculous joke like Alastor did.

“How do I look?” Charlie asked as the makeup and hair artists stepped away from her. Charlie stepped out, allowing Vaggie to get a better look at her in a tailored charcoal gray suit, a departure from her usual vibrant red attire. The jacket, adorned with subtle pinstripes, accentuated her frame, while the crisp, white silk shirt underneath added a touch of formality. Completing the ensemble, she wore a black tie with a discreet pattern that hinted at both elegance and authority. The ensemble was a strategic choice, projecting confidence and a readiness to engage with the political powers present at the gala for the sake of her hotel. Vaggie smiled and hugged Charlie deeply, their embrace making Charlie feel a little less nervous about the whole ordeal.

“Charlie you look amazing. What happened to the red?” Vaggie asked, before Charlie just chuckled.

“Well, I wanted a change for tonight. I’m always in red, and I feel like they’ll take me more serious if I’m not walking in there with my usual attire. Besides, you read the invitation, ‘formal attire, look your best’.” Charlie said. Vaggie nodded, and Charlie pulled back from the hug to admire Vaggie in her dress. She was wearing a sleek and modern grey dress that gracefully embraced the formal occasion. The dress, with its tailored fit and subtle shimmer, exuded class. The knee-length hemline added a contemporary touch, and Vaggie had decided to pair it with black heels to complete the ensemble. The choice of grey complemented Charlie’s charcoal gray suit, creating a coordinated yet distinct look that would surely make an impression at the gala. Charlie felt her cheeks heat up taking in her appearance, her long hair gently pinned back, the loose pieces of hair framing her face.

“Aww, Vaggie you look so pretty!!” Charlie said excitedly. Vaggie just smiled, ignoring the way her cheeks heated up at Charlies compliment.

“I agree, you look good vagina.” Angel said mockingly, causing Vaggie to glare at him. Charlie just gushed.

“Angel be nice. This is really important for the hotel.” Charlie explained. He just nodded, tilting his head back and downing a bottle of liquor. The staff however was interrupted by Angel making a purring sound at Husk, who was dressed in a nice white suave dinner jacket, with perfect cutouts for his wings, along with some sleek black trousers and some black dress shoes. The match, he had a black silk lapel.

“I can think of another place that suit would look.” Angel said, leaning onto Husk. He rolls his eyes, bottle in hand.

“Do I even wanna know?” He asks, and Angel just grins.

“On my bedroom floo-“ Angel doesn’t get to finish, being shrugged off by Husk who just walks away with a shake of his head.

“Oh my gosh! Husk you look amazing!” Charlie squealed in delight. Husk just smiled softly before setting his drink on the bar counter.

“It appears everyone is ready.” Alastor said, the focus of the room shifting to him. Niffty was at his side studying his outfit from head to toe.

Alastor emerged in an ensemble that deviated from his usual eccentricity, opting for a more formal yet captivating look. A deep red velvet tailcoat adorned his frame, its luxurious texture catching the light. Dark-red lapels, meticulously piped with gold, added a touch of opulence. Underneath, he wore a perfectly tailored crimson dress shirt, the power emitting off of him. Suddenly, the room grew just a tad bit darker, the shadows of the room stretching just a bit. Complementing the ensemble, he chose a pair of well-fitted black dress pants, allowing the bold red hue to take center stage on his appearance. His choice of footwear shifted to polished black oxford shoes, a departure from his usual pointed-toe boots. The finishing touches of the outfit included a matching red silk bowtie, neatly knotted at his throat, and black leather gloves that added a refined edge. Alastor’s presence was commanding, radiating an air of formality while retaining the distinctive charm that defined him. The room was captivated by the Radio Demon’s unexpected transformation into a vision of refined class and style.

“You took forever for that?” Niffty said, before Angel Dust tossed a pillow at her.

“Shut it you. We, we are keeping,” Angel said, hands waving around Alastor, “to whatever this is.”

“Style.” Alastor said confidently. Vaggie just face palmed while Charlie clapped her hands together excitedly.

“Okay, I think everyone’s ready. Should we head out?” Charlie asked. Vaggie nodded, before Alastor dug the invitation out of his coat pocket. Standing near a wall, he traced the symbol on the back of the card on the wall. “Uh, Al? What are you doing?” Charlie asked. He grinned, putting his hand flat on the wall. The symbol began to glow green, before it opened a portal. On the other side, was a large house. The grand Victorian mansion stood as a testament to opulence, its imposing facade adorned with intricate wrought-iron black railings and embellished balconies with hints of chains. Tall, arched windows with stained glass panels framed the exterior, allowing glimpses of the soft glow emanating from within. The entrance, marked by a sweeping staircase, welcomed guests with ornate, carved intricate detailed doors. Charlie, Vaggie and Husk followed Alastor through the portal, Charlie waving goodbye to Niffty, and Angel. Sir Pentious was most likely hiding out in a room somewhere with his egg boys.

As guests approached, they marveled at the meticulous details of the architecture – elaborate moldings, corbels, and friezes adorned every corner. Ivy-clad walls added a touch of nature’s grace, intertwining with wrought-iron lampposts that cast a warm ambiance over the meticulously landscaped gardens.Inside, the grand foyer unfolded, revealing a sweeping staircase adorned with a rich, mahogany handrail. Crystal chandeliers hung from soaring ceilings, their light refracted by ornate mirrors that lined the walls. Plush Victorian-era furnishings, upholstered in rich fabrics, adorned the parlor rooms, creating intimate spaces for guests to gather and converse.Every room whispered of a bygone era – intricately patterned wallpaper, gilded frames displaying classical art, and the faint fragrance of aged wood and lavender.

The air was infused with a sense of refinement, transporting guests to a time when elegance reigned supreme. The Victorian mansion, a splendid backdrop for the gala, promised an evening steeped in grandeur and charm. In the middle of the exterior grounds, a grand fountain of blood took center stage. Its sculpted marble figures spouted blood into the air, catching the moonlight in a dance of liquid elegance. The fountain, surrounded by manicured gardens and flowering shrubs, became a focal point for guests as they strolled through the outdoor spaces, the gentle sound of cascading blood adding a serene touch to the gala’s errie atmosphere.

The overlords arrival made the event much more real. Alastor hums to himself as he walks around the outside grounds. There are servants of all kinds walking around with glasses of champagne. Rosie is sitting on a bench, plucking thorns off a rose. Alastor smiles to himself, happy to see a familiar face he know he can confide in.

“Rosie dear! So nice to see you.” Alastor said with a smile. She smiles at him, teeth razor sharp.

“Do you think you’ll be getting a seat tonight?” She asks, snapping the rose off its stem and tossing it to the side.

“Well of course I will. It’d be a mistake if I wasn’t.” Alastor said with a smile, crossing his legs as he sat down next to her. Sinners from all over the pride ring were socializing outside of the large mansion. He knew you were inside finalizing preparations and possibly screaming your head off. Overall, the air was chilled with a comfortable atmosphere. Well, it had been comfortable, until a loud noisy vehicle stopped at the front gates. Everyone’s heads were turning, Rosie and Alastor looking at each other with strained smiles. Stepping out of the large limousine were the three vee’s, vulgar music blaring from the vehicles speakers as the three made their way through the now open gates. Reporters lined the edges of the gates, trying desperately to see the overlords inside and to try and sneak into the gala, which was starting soon.

“Mr.Vox! Mr.Vox!” News reporters shouted. Velvet was busy taking selfies of her and her outfit, her assistant following close behind her. Valentino was busy looking down at everyone, smoking his usual, while taking his long strides next to Vox, who was in the middle of the three.

On Vox’s right was Valentino, who donned a captivating look for the gala. His tailored white suit boasted a jacket that reached just above the knee, a subtle departure from his usual floor-length coat. The crimson silk lining peeked through, adding a luxurious touch to the outfit. The coat, reminiscent of his extravagant style, also had a vivid-red hue with his signature white fur trim at the wrists. The black and white striped fur trim along the center-front added a distinctive flair. A gold chain and love-heart-shaped broach fastenings adorned the coat, creating an opulent yet alluring look. Finally, he wore polished black heeled boots, maintaining the sleek and captivating allure that defined Valentino’s presence. The familiar color scheme remained intact, blending sophistication with a hint of provocative charm for the grand gala.

On Vox’s left was Velvet, who had spent months perfecting her outfit for the gala, in hopes she’d be invited of course. She had begged the boys to keep a good public appearance, in hopes they’d be recognized and invited to the crimson gala. Velvette, deciding to ditch her usual style, embraced a lavish and over-the-top look that represented her brand. Dressed in a knee-length dress, the garment had a striking blend of black and red hues. The dress, fitted at the waist, flowed into a voluminous skirt, creating a sense of extravagance. The bodice of the dress featured intricate lace detailing. A white collar adorned with a velvet bow added a playful yet mature flair. The sleeves, a fusion of burgundy and white patterns, contributed to the overall lavish aesthetic she had been going for. Her accessories took on a more refined form. Velvet gloves, adorned with delicate lace, graced her hands, and a pearl necklace adorned her neck, adding a classic touch, completed with maroon heels, each step resonating with a sense of grandeur. Velvet’s transformation into this upscale attire reflected her desire to make a statement at the Crimson Gala.

In the middle, and the brains of the three vee’s, was none other than the head of Vox Tech, Vox himself. He wore a sleek and modern dark blue tuxedo, tailored with precision. Of course he could only have the best. The suit featured subtle futuristic patterns that enhanced his ‘perfect’ sense of style. To complement his high-tech vibe, Vox wore a light blue undershirt with an upside-down broadcast symbol. Vox's gala attire seamlessly blended power and control with his technological edge, creating a memorable look in shades of dark blue, which in his opinion, was the best color.

Upon seeing Alastor, Vox’s eye twitched noticeably. The gates shut behind the three vee’s, closing off the gala to the public. The overlords begin to get closer together unknowingly, Zestial finding a comfortable corner to watch things play out. Carmilla and Zeezie stand close together, whispering to one another as both Rosie and Alastor stand from the bench. Vox, Valentino and Velvet make their way to the Radio Demon and his colleagues.

“I see the grandpa’s were invited.” Velvet says with a scoff, scrolling through her phone.

“So disrespectful.” Carmilla says under her breath, looking away from the three vee’s.

“Hm, interesting, and I was beginning to think the only interesting thing tonight would be the dinner.” Bethesda said, her brother nodding.

“Well, it seems the children brought their play date to the public then.” Zeezie says. The other overlords laugh and Valentino sneers at her.

“Well an idiota like you would think so. Then again, don’t you all do the same with your diapers?” He asked, puffing the smoke into her face. She growls at him, fists clenching at her side, but Carmilla stops her.

“Didn’t they say this was an adult only gala?” Carmilla asked, Rosie chuckling at her words.

“Oh can it grandma.” Velvete said. But Vox remained silent, having his own personal staring match with Alastor, whose smile was stretched ear to ear, teeth on full display.

“I thought this gala was meant for real talent?” Vox asked, stepping closer to Alastor.

“Well it was until you showed up.” Alastor said with a smile. “There’s no originality in copying someone else.” He tuts. Vox narrows his eyes, face twisting with anger as he steps closer to Alastor again.

“You wanna tell me something, you old piece of-“ Vox is stopped, the lights to the exterior of the mansion dimming. The lights behind the large front doors opening slowly. Two tall black shadowy figures stepped from the door, smoke at their feet.

“Thank you all for your attendance. As we know, the annual Crimson Gala is held every year, and this year is no different. With the new extermination date, important decisions must be made. Tonight, ten individuals will be selected to sit at Madame’s table where she will discuss private plans on how to move forward.” The two said in unison. Everyone fell silent as more shadows appeared, each one sitting on the sides of the steps. Lights around the staircases began to light up, and people began making their way up the stairs.

“Well~ this should be fun.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin vaggie #hazbin demon #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel rosie #alastor #helluva boss vox #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #alastor and vox #hazbin hotel vox #overlords #hellaverse #yandere alastor x reader #yandere alastor #yandere Vox #yandere Vox x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin hotel x reader #isuckatwritingsobenice infernal shadows #isuckatwritingsobenice

[jyoongim]

Just found you and read all your Alastor fics. Love them! My request is jealous fucking with breeding. But the jealousy comes on because of Lucifer. Luci comes to visit the hotel and causally makes a sweet comment to reader but as soon as he notices that it pisses off Al, Lucifer just goes all in offer to buy readers soul and free her just to piss off Al until reader and Charlie have to break them up before they fight. Then comes in the breeding, so everyone knows your his as if him owning your soul wasn’t enough

Oh I appreciate it so much! I hope you enjoy it around these parts and I am happy you enjoy my writing!

Warnings: fem!reader, jealous!Alastor, flirting, Lucifer riling up Alastor, rough sex, breeding kink, pregnancy mentioned

The hotel was in an uproar over the King of Hell's impending visit.

Charlie was a nervous wreck and you were doing everything to make sure that the hotel was somewhat presentable and that everyone was well behaved.

”Now just be your charming self and make sure to help promote the purpose of the hotel for Charlie” you said fixing Alastor’s bow tie. He smiled down at you, waving his hand dismissively “Oh don’t worry my dear Ill be the perfect host. There’s nothing to worry about”

Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell…was not what you had expected.

You could see where Charlie got her flare from.

He was looking around the lobby, taking in the interior and the residents. You didn’t miss the way his face scrunched up a bit.

”And here are our lovely hotel managers dad” Charlie said, turning towards you and Alastor.

You smiled, giving him a slight curtesy “Its a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty, I hope that you enjoy your time here at the hotel” 

Lucifer dawned a sultry smile, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips. Kissing it.

”The pleasure is all mine”

Alastor growled, stepping between the two of you. He gave a tense smile “Pleased to meet you sir” he slapped your hand out of his and took it to shake. Lucifer blinked, a slight frown on his face “and you would be?” A snort escaped the red demon 

“Alastor! Im the host of the hotel. Maybe you’ve heard of my radio broadcast?” Lucifer deadpanned “nah never was one to consume media” he shrugged.

He slipped by to your side, looping an arm around you “Now I’m sure you wouldn’t mind giving me a tour hmmm? Show me all of the more intimate parts” he chortled, as you nervously turned to Alastor.

Alastor's smile was tense and his eye was twitching slightly.

Irritated and annoyed.

Lucifer seemed to pick up on that.

He eyed the lanky demon, before cooing at you “oh don’t tell me you need the bellhop’s permission? ”

oh no. The lights flickered.

You cleared your throat “I would be honored your grace,but Alastor knows the hotel better than I. He can show you around” you offered, making the King groan.

Charlie chirped in “Yes yes. Alastor has been a great help. Well shall we?”

The tour went without any mishap. Alastor had you tucked away into his side as Charlie gave a run through of what she was trying to achieve.

Charlie suggested dinner before her dad left, to give him a little convincing to help.

You bustled about the kitchen, setting everyone’s meal down and making your way to sit by Alastor.

A hand grabbed your wrist, you stiffened as Lucifer gave you a charming smile “why not sit by me. Charlie has told of some of the improvements you think would work for the hotel”

You heard a static buzz as you took a seat by him.

You listened quietly as Charlie went on and on about her plans.

Lucifer had been not so subtly subtly flirting with you the entire dinner.

”Well I will think about it Charlie. I do believe your dream is possible” She smiled happily. he turned his eyes to you

”Especially with such lovely help” you blushed.

He seemed more interested in you.

”sooo what’s your deal with that guy” he was referring to Alastor

you tilted your head in question, he clarified his intention

”I mean he own your soul or something? A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be tied to the likes of him. how about I nullify whatever deal you made and you take you under my wing instead”

You looked at him shocked.

The sound of glass breaking sounded and Alastor shook his hand of the liquid once in the glass

He chuckled darkly “Well I am afraid it is late, wouldn’t you agree dearest?” His eyes narrowed on the man as he stood, coming around to stand behind you.

His eyes were black and glowing red as he practically sneered at the King.

Lucifer was unfazed by the intimidation tactic.

”haha what I strike a nerve? You’ve got this amazing beauty on a leash and for what? Im sure shell do much better being tied to you” 

Before Alastor could lunge at the man, you stood up and pressed yourself against him as you heard Charlie grab her dad to pull him away. 

Your hands reached for his face, turning his enraged eyes to you.

You shook your head at him slightly. You know when someone wa just trying to ruffle his feathers.

”I am feeling quite tired from today’s activities why don’t we turn in for the night yes?” You pleaded with him, softly pushing him back towards to door.

Large hands gripped your waist as his turned his eyes back towards Lucifer, he hissed lowly before whisking you out of the kitchen and to your shared bedroom.

———————————————————————————

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room.

You whined at a harsh thrust that jolted your body against the silky sheets.

The room was buzzing with static as Alastor fucked into you.

Green chains hung heavy around your collar as Alastor pulled on them to pull you into his thrusts.

He was pissed.

His usual composed and controlled demeanor slipping the moment he slammed the door.

He had taken you against the door roughly, too pent up to let you get a single word out.

He had thrown you onto the bed after, a dark aura surrounding him as his antlers grew with the angry emotions swirling inside him.

“Ah! Ha! A-Alastor!” You moaned as another orgasm racked through you.

He twisted your chains around his arm as he used them as leverage to drill his dick into you.

“Who do he think he is?” He growled, pushing your head into the mattress 

“Thinking he can just take you from me…ME?! You are mine”

You let out a cry as he ruined your walls, balls slapping against your cunt.

“You wouldn’t leave my side would you sweetheart” he hissed down at you, turning your head so you could see him.

”Who would want you after I ruin you hmm? You would be nothing but sloppy seconds.” He regraded you, angry at the very thought of you thinking you could terminate your deal with him.

Your deal with Alastor was nothing too extreme. Your complete devotion to him for his protection.

While he might not admit it, Alastor had grown accustomed to you being by his side, able to help him see reason and take on tasks he found too mundane.

You were like his wife in a sense. 

Soft and caring, always doing whatever he asked of you.

You never complained, happily fulfilling your duties to a tee.

And some goofy, short king thinks you would leave your benefactor?

Had he not given you anything you ever wanted?

You were the most free soul he had, that was a privilege.

Your cunt squelched as he pulled out, the tip kissing your outer lips as he stilled in his rough fucking.

You panted, clammy sweat sticking to your body as he tugged at your chains.

You were on your back, thighs spread around his waist.

A hand wrapped around your throat, Alastor leaning down to press a surprise soft kiss to your forehead

”You wouldn’t dare leave me would you baby” he cocked his head at you.

You shook your head quickly, hoping that he had blew off enough steam to finally be reasonable.

But Alastor’s jealousy was ugly.

He wouldn’t be done with you until there was nothing you thought about but him.

He should be what plagues your thoughts.

You should crave him by the time he was done.

He slotted back inside you, making you gasp as he returned to his fast pace.

”Leave me for that sorry excuse of a king? Ha! You wouldn’t. No not my pretty girl. Youre my good girl aren’t you?”

You mewled as you watch him transform.

”I-Im your good girl Ah! Pl-please!” Your eyes clenched closed in pleasure.

”Youre mine. You understand that? I own you. Your every thought. Every feeling. Your body, mind, and soul are mine. You gave them to me oh so happy. I can do whatever I please with you. Ruin you and dump you off into the street like a common whore if I wished”

You whimpered at his words.

”But thats not enough is it? Hmmm? Noooo. Youre not mine” he purred.

you pouted, ready to reassure him that you were, in fact, his.

He lifted one of your legs to your chest, angling his hips down

”Ill make sure every disrespectful wretch knows you are mine. Fir it seems my constant presence isn’t enough”

Your cunt fluttered.

How else would….

His dick hit that sweet spot deep inside you

”Oh! Ah!” His hand on your neck tightened as a sharp smile appeared on his face

”So maybe putting a claim to you will do the trick”

Your mouth shaped into an ‘O’ as he fucked you roughly, hips grinding down as if to make you mold to his very shape.

Sinners couldn’t reproduce.

Right?

that was your last coherent thought as he slammed his hips into yours over and over til he sighed, his dick twitching as he filled you with his cum.

You whined as he gave soft thrusts to keep his cum inside you, purring as it spilled around him, pooling around your ass.

You whined when he pulled out, hearing a soft ‘pop’ as you clenched around nothing.

A hand settled on your lower belly, now full of his cum, Alastor grinned wicked “Let’s see how much the pipsqueak will want you now my dear” he chuckled.

———————————————————————————

“Its nice to see you again sir” you said welcoming the King of Hell inside the hotel.

He smiled and once he got a good look at you, it fell.

”Charlie will be down in a second do you need anything?” You asked sweetly, hand resting on your swollen belly.

He stuttered out a response in surprise “O-oh w-why thank you. I take it you’ve been well”

Alastor manifested behind you, grinning at the short monarch, his arm roping around your waist, hand settling on the side of your stomach “Ah yes! We’ve been busy. Im sure you can tell”

Alastor- 2

Lucifer- 0

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x y/n #alastor smut #alastor hazbin hotel

[luveline]

Hi honey! I hope you’re taking care of yourself ❤️ I love love LOVE how you write! Can I please request bombshell reader x Spencer telling the team she’s pregnant 💕

thank you for requesting! <3 fem, 2k

“Spencer?” 

Your quiet tone has his attention faster than any shouting would’ve; he expects high energy from you, and your murmur scares him half to death. He backtracks from the bathroom with his toothbrush still in his mouth, toothpaste dripping down his fingers as he yanks it out and asks, “What?” 

“Is this okay?” 

You chew your lip and turn to the side, illuminating your problem with a hand framed under your tummy. Your skin peeks out from the bottom of your shirt. 

The wonder of you is that you’ve always been beautiful, always, in Spencer’s eyes at least if not the entire world’s, because of how you present yourself, and of course because of your big heart. Your smile, the way you talk, all of it is beautiful and, most of the time, measured. Your clothes are carefully picked, and now you’re changing and your clothes need to change with it —your bump has appeared faster than Spencer realised it would, and you haven’t had time to upgrade your wardrobe. The cases are endless and you’d been more interested in doctor’s appointments and house viewings than clothes shopping.  

“What’s wrong?” he asks, perhaps a bit useless, white frothy paste sliding down his chin. 

You smile momentarily, nervous on your feet as you adjust your shirt. “I think I look very pregnant.” 

Spencer goes back into the bathroom to finish brushing.  “You look mildly pregnant,” he agrees loudly over the rush faucet. He spits, wipes his face, and rinses his toothbrush. 

“Compared to my usual non-pregnant look, I mean,” you say. 

“It’s just that shirt’s a little tight,” he promises. “We’ll find something.” 

You probably aren’t going to find something, you both realise. You stand in front of him in one of your soft bralettes, the ‘S’ of your pendant on your rising chest, shirtless and likely to stay that way. “Oh,” he says, tapping your bump gently with his knuckle. “Maybe it got bigger overnight.” 

“I think so,” you agree, taking his hand where it hovers to press to the top of the slope of the bump. You’re holding his hand more than you’re protecting the bump, a perplexed frown on your lips as you kneed his fingers in yours. 

“We don’t have time to go to the store, but we could be late,” he says. 

“What if we have a case?” 

“That’s a better reason to go shopping.” 

You pout for a kiss, leaning up to press your lips to his wry smile. “No. Do you still have that maroon sweater? The one that didn’t fit you right, with the v-neck?” 

Spencer helps you into said sweater though you don’t need his assistance, smoothing down the wrinkles carefully. It hides the too-short hem of your white shirt underneath, and paired with the collar, Spencer couldn’t be more in love with you. “You’re dressed like me five years ago,” he says. 

“Like it?” you flirt, your cheeks apples with your smug smile, your hands under your chin.

“You really are glowing.” 

“Don’t tempt me into kissing you stupid,” you say, still flirting, voice dipping into that warm, sweet place that probably caused the bump between you in the first place. 

“You’re lucky I don’t kiss you stupid,” he jokes, putting an arm around you for a quick hug. “Too bad we need to work to save to buy a stupid house instead.” 

“Have a stupid baby,” you mumble happily, your face pressed to his chest. He kisses your cheek. 

You’re both in incredible moods when you finally make it to work, tethered together from the parking lot to the elevator to the BAU office. There’s been a lot more hand holding since you found out you were pregnant, though you’re trying to keep it private just a little bit longer. Hotch gets antsy about pregnant people in the field (though he’d never force you to stay home), and the others can tend to be overbearing. 

You are excited to tell them. Spencer’s your family, the team is as good as, and they’ll all be so, so happy for you. At first you’d been waiting for the twelve week milestone for practicality’s sake, but now you’re just waiting for the right time. 

“Clothes get lost in the move?” Morgan asks. 

You aren’t telling them about the pregnancy, but you’re honest about other things. They know you’ve moved in with Spencer, and that you’re looking for a house. Morgan would’ve been offended if you hadn’t told him. He’d offered up a bunch of his properties to you both for viewing and promised a very good family and friends price point, but they hadn’t been perfect enough. It’s just a starter house, he’d argued, mostly unoffended at your pickiness. 

He doesn’t realise that you and Spencer wanna raise a baby, and you want as perfect a home as possible for at least the toddler years before you start looking to move up the ladder. A family home. 

“Very funny,” you praise, letting Spencer pull back your chair for you as you sit down. You feel the new extra roundness of your bump and wonder why nobody else has noticed it either. Spencer certainly can’t stop looking at it. You catch him all the time, and at night, alone and in bed, you let him run his hand up and down the hill of it, clearly amazed. 

“It looks good on you, mama,” Morgan says. 

You laugh. “Doesn’t everything?” you ask with an exaggerated smirk. 

“Yes,” Spencer says. 

You dip your head back in your chair. “This is why I love you.” 

“Devotion,” Spencer guesses, wiping at a smudge of makeup under your eye tenderly. 

You put your hand on your stomach. It’s weird how things change and don’t at the same time. You feel like you love him so much more now you’re a family with him, but you loved him endlessly before. Moments like this were plentiful and warm as sunshine, the undulating care in his touch a practised exercise at this point. You let your eyes close. He strokes your cheek. 

“Hotch wants everyone in the conference room,” JJ says, announcing herself and her towering cup of coffee as she breezes past the bullpen. 

You follow her upstairs to the conference room. Rossi, Hotch and Penelope are already waiting, everyone accompanied by their own creature comfort (coffee, coffee, and tea, respectfully). You and Spencer take seats opposite Hotch and Rossi, hands held together as always, his left in your right, his thumb kind against your knuckles. 

“The jet is still pre-loading from last time, so we can’t leave until late tonight, but we will be leaving,” Hotch begins, nodding at Penelope. “Until then, we’ll work the case from here.”

She nods back and clicks onto some severely disgusting photographs. 

You work through the facts together. Emily arrives late with apologies soon forgiven, your team a well-oiled machine. Of course, without being there, there’s only so much you can do, but it’s never not useful to have these discussions and to spitball with one another. 

Spencer gets stuck in his head. You fight the urge to kiss his cheek as he’d kissed yours this morning and decide on a more work appropriate show of affection, popping down to the kitchenette to make him a cup of coffee. 

You aren’t drinking coffee or anything caffeinated for the baby. You aren’t thirsty, but Spencer will worry if you don’t make yourself a drink too. You fill a glass with water from the sink and make your way back up the steps to the conference room. 

“It looks like there’s a racial motivation,” Spencer’s saying to Morgan. 

“Sure, but with only two victims so far, it could be coincidence,” Emily says. 

“Or not,” JJ says with a frown. 

“I think our killer would show it more, if it were,” you suggest, “there’s usually some aspect of overkill with hate crimes we aren’t seeing here.” 

You put the cup of coffee down in front of Spencer and sit in your chair. The sleeves on his sweater are too long. You push them up for the tenth time. 

“That’s Spencer’s?” Emily asks, having noticed your struggle.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been sort of scatterbrained, I forgot to put a load in the dryer.” 

“Is your go bag ready?” Hotch asks. 

No. “Yeah, it’s fine. You don’t like my new look?” 

“I’ve never known you to wear clothes that don’t fit,” Morgan says.

“What are you trying to say, Derek?” you ask, propping your face in your chin. 

“You’re getting sloppy in your old age.” 

You turn to Spencer, beaming, and he shakes his head at you immediately. 

“And what’s with the water?”

Your smiling turns deer-in-the-headlights. “What?” 

“You don’t drink coffee anymore?” Morgan prompts. 

That piques the interest of Emily and Hotch simultaneously, but you know you’re caught when realisation colours JJ’s gaze. She stares straight at your glass, then your face. You can practically see her profiling your behaviour these last few weeks, the sudden trips to the bathroom, the worse than usual reluctance to be away from Spencer, and the sudden propensity for safer practice in the field. 

You smile. You’re caught. You see Hotch’s expression and know he knows it, too. 

You give Spencer a little nudge with your thigh, as though telling him, You say it. You know he wants to. 

“You can’t have more than three hundred milligrams of caffeine when you’re pregnant,” Spencer says, his pride unmissable in the slight lift of his chin, “it disrupts midterm foetal growth. Our baby might come out too small, which isn’t what we want, obviously, so she can’t drink coffee. Not for another six months, at least.” 

“Wha– wha– what?” Penelope asks, the physical manifestation of a kettle about to boil over, excitement bubbling and raring to explode as she grips the table. “You’re pregnant?” 

“With Spencer?” Emily asks, though she’s laughing before she’s finished. 

You frame his cheek with one hand and lean in to kiss it gently. “Who else?” you ask. 

The best part is watching everybody hug Spencer. You’re happy they love you and you accept their congratulations and their love with pleasure, but seeing a room full of people thrilled for him finally getting the life he’s wanted, and knowing you’re at least part of the reason, is pretty sweet. You put your hand on your baby bump and take a mental picture of him under Morgan’s arm, his cheeks pink, his smile achingly wide. 

Still, he cuts through his moment to reach for you. “Maybe someone else will be able to convince you to slow down,” he says, hand moving to your stomach protectively. 

You pretend to think it over. “Maybe in a month or two.” 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer and bombshell reader

[pearlywritings]

A guide to motivate the General

synopsis: just a couple of messages and maybe a call from his loved ones is all Jing Yuan needs to find it in himself to finish his work and go home.

pairing: Jing Yuan x fem!reader

tw: fluff, domestic fluff, dad!Jing Yuan, Mimi being a huge spoiled baby

word count: 2.1k+ words

A loud yawn echoes in an empty space of The Seat of the Divine Foresight. The general squints, but immediately shakes his head - as much as he’d love to take a nap, there are still some urgent cases he has to attend to. It’s so quiet and lifeless with everyone being dismissed. Oh, what he would’ve given to be far far from here… 

He knows, however, that dwelling on such a matter is just a waste of his resources. Instead of feeling jealous of the guards and secretaries he let go home three hours ago, he opts to redirect the remnants of his energy to the last pile of papers he’s already halfway through.

But just as he reaches for another document his phone vibrates, screen lighting up momentarily, but even a second-long glance is enough to see who the message is from.

And he can’t make his wife wait, can he?

As he carefully puts the ink brush down the device makes a sound a couple of more times, indicating that there are three messages already. Quickly typing eight numbers of his passcode - two most important dates of his life - Jing Yuan swipes away all the spam that has gathered there this evening. His thumb lightly taps on the messenger and goes right to the chat with you, tired golden eyes gaining a bit of their usual shine.

Good evening, my love. I suppose you weren’t lying when you said you’d be quite busy. Didn’t want to disturb you before, but I hope Yanqing wasn’t covering you up, telling me that you ‘dutifully ate’ the dinner I asked him to bring you earlier.

Jing Yuan chuckles. Ah, isn’t it wonderful to have a loving doting spouse who cares so much for her husband. Of course he took a break and ate his dinner - how could he ever deny your home-cooked meals? It would be a crime against your marriage.

Ignoring for a moment your two next messages, the man starts typing an answer.

Good evening, beloved. Yes, I’ll be here for another hour it seems. But I am planning to return home tonight, don’t worry. Yes, the dinner was delicious, thank you. And you know that boy knows better than to lie to you.

Though he, personally, finds your infuriated face adorable, not scary. Sending the message, he skips to the next ones.

Look who’s been waiting for your return

And the video attached. Not thinking too long, he presses play.

He is quick to recognize your shared bedroom and from the angle you were filming you were clearly in bed. He can see the double doors of the entrance, some of the furniture and fine tapestries decorating the walls. But the main focus is obviously the big lion pacing back and forth in the space between the bed and the doors, occasionally stopping, glancing at the wooden obstacle, huffing and continuing its pacing. Then he hears you sweet melodic giggle and his heart melts and then immediately bursts when your voice enters the recording.

“She’s been like that for the last half an hour. She clearly misses papa.”

At the word ‘papa’ Mimi swiftly stops and looks at you and then at the door. Her tail slowly moves.

“No, Mimi, sorry, but papa isn’t home yet. Though I am sure he will soon.”

She seems to understand you, because another huff of dissatisfaction passes through her nose and she butts her head against the left door.

“Jing Yuan, you better hurry, before she figures out how to open the door and go bother ‘her cub’. I barely managed to separate the two.”

As the video stops, the general can’t help but snort, mouth covered with his palm. Eyes glance to the side, to the photo frame sitting snugly on his table - of him, you, held against his side with one arm, and a little girl perched comfortably in the crook of his other one. The smiles the three of you presenting are joyful and he can recall why - the day was brilliant, after all.

Not given an opportunity to wonder however, his attention is brought back by another vibration - looks like you still have something to say.

True, but it never hurts to make sure.

Want me to wait for you?

Oh, he’d love for you to be awake and welcome his exhausted body into your embrace, but at the same time he wants you to have a night of good sleep before tomorrow. Even so…he can allow himself to indulge just a little bit, right?

Warmth swirls in his chest when you pick his video call.

“Hi, pretty,” a lazy smile tugs on the corners of his lips when he sees your cozy form - hair let down, a pillow tucked behind your back and two thin straps of the chemise resting on your beautiful shoulders.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” he sees your eyes taking into his own visage, noting his tired gaze, messy hair and a palm supporting his chin. “Are you calling me to answer my question?”

“Yes and no. Just wanted to see you before you go to sleep,” and that is enough of a response to you.

“How sweet of you, Yuan,” there is a guttural noise in the background and he sees your eyes dart behind the phone. “Ah, looks like Mimi heard your voice. She started running around the room. Searching for you, Mister,” even though there is a hint of reproach in your voice, the general knows you are simply joking. 

“My apologies. It seems I made all my girls wait. Speaking of my girls, how is-”

Suddenly you gasp and your body seems to jump and for a moment the phone tilts backwards and Jing Yuan has to stare at the ceiling.

“My dear? Everything is okay?”

“What-? Ah, yes, yes, it- Mimi, stop! Ouch, your paw is heavy!”

The ceiling is clearer now - you must’ve put the device down in an attempt to (what he can only guess) fight off the lion that jumped onto your bed, finally figuring out where the voice was coming from. Loud grunts and your noises of discontent with occasional complaints are the only things he can hear for a couple of minutes. Reasoning that it’s better if he stays silent for the time being, Jing Yuan sets the phone against the photo frame and returns to the paper he was about to review.

It’s almost three documents later - wow, a quick peak of his loved one is doing wonders to his worsened productivity - when the commotion settles down and you pick your phone back, heavily exhaling with an annoyed look on your face. Jing Yuan decides to simply turn to you, hand still skipping through the papers.

“I swear, this overgrown cat is the biggest baby I’ve ever dealt with. Here, look, papa is here,” and you practically shove the device into the animal’s muzzle. Big nose sniffs around, and, not finding the familiar scent of her caretaker, the lion gives you a side eye, which makes your husband choke on his laughter. The maned head whips to the left, keen hearing obviously picking a well-known voice.

“Who taught her that jumping onto the bed is okay?” You are in his sight again, fingers running through your hair, now no different from his own messy locks. “Right - you. I couldn’t get her off and barely managed to put this bulk down. You better pray she decides to leave on her own accord, or you are sleeping on the floor tonight.”

Yes, your annoyed expressions are truly marvelous. How he wished to be there with you and shower your puffy cheeks with dozens of kisses, cradling your face in his big warm palms. It would be so lovely.

“I’ll just go and sleep with my angel then. I am sure she won’t be against having dada by her side.”

He hears Mimi yawn loudly and you make an ‘oof’ sound, promptly lifting the phone.

“Everything is alright?”

“Yeah… She just dropped her head onto my lap. And is staring at me, quite offended.”

“Oooh, now you are stuck,” he can't help but smirk, relishing the roll of your eyes. He knows better than anyone how heavy his pet is. Even he feels a strain in his back whenever he picks her up. Or maybe he is just getting old.

“Wow, thanks, General Obviousness. Mimi, your papa is so-”

Abruptly you are interrupted again, but this time by a quiet, almost inaudible sound of the doors opening. He sees your body lean forward and by a warning “Mimi, stay” he knows you are pinning the animal down. Which can mean only one thing…

“Mom?” A sweet sleepy voice of his daughter proves his assumption right. Suddenly, hearing just one word from her, the man wants to abandon what little work he has left and rush home to envelope the little wonder into his arms, hear her giggle and call him “dad” or “dada” or “papa” - he'd take anything, really, as long as it’s from his little one.

“What is it, baby? Having trouble sleeping?” Oh, but your voice is so beautifully tender, he wants to have it directly caress his ears, while he is cuddled into your body, your fingers running through his thick hair. Aeons, he is losing focus.

“I heard Mimi running,” the little voice gets closer and Jing Yuan sees how your shoulder tenses - the arm is undoubtedly wrapped around the lion’s body. “I thought that daddy came home… has he not yet?”

Now, he really wants to get home as soon as possible.

“No, sweety. But guess what? I am talking to him right now. Want to say hi?”

As you are leaning back, your husband reaches for the phone, holding it properly in his hands, heart skipping a beat in anticipation, waiting for the girl to climb onto the bed and settle at your side.

Stars above, she is a carbon copy of him. Fluffy hair, tucked behind her ears not to obscure the vision, keeping the pretty liquid gold eyes on display, a beauty mark under her eye is charming, just as a lovely smile, stretching mouth when she finally catches the glimpse of her father.

“Papa hiii!” Her little hands wave happily at him, a toothy grin even wider than before. Pure excitement written all over her drowsy expression is adorable, so cute in fact, that Jing Yuan fists the shirt on his chest in a silent cry of his heart.

“Hi, my little sparrow,” he speaks softly, gazing at her with so much love, while his mind is screaming with joy. “I am going to be home very soon. But I want you, and mama, and Mimi all to go to sleep.”

“But whyyy,” she whines, pouting. He also hears the lion grunt, as if understanding what he is saying, and you just shake your head with a small chuckle.

“Because papa wants you to be well-rested. He promised us a walk tomorrow, right?” Your hand goes to rest on top of her head, patting. “It’ll be too bad if we are sleepy, don't you think?”

“Mama is right. I know you miss me, baby, and I miss you terribly too. But if we want to spend the whole day together, doing everything you, princess, want, I have to complete some of my cases. That's why I am going to say my good night’s and get back to work to finish it.”

The white-haired girl sighs, dropping her head, letting the heavy fringe escape and cover her eyes.

“Being an adult is awful,” he hears her murmur a complaint and can’t help but agree. Though, if he wasn’t an adult, would’ve he ever had you and her? “But I get it, daddy. I am a big girl!”

“That’s my girl,” he gives her an encouraging smile, when she lifts her eyes again to look at him from under the bangs. His smile is almost immediately mirrored.

“So…” Jing Yuan catches your gaze (you have been watching this whole exchange with a fond look in your eyes) and shares unspoken affection. “Good night, my love.”

“Have you soon in my arms, dear,” you blow a kiss and he makes a grabby motion with his hand, bringing it to his very heart.

“Baby,” the girl perks, wiggling in her place and tucking her hair away when his attention is focused on her once more, “sweet dreams. I promise to stop by and kiss you on the cheek.”

“I'll be waiting- I mean sleeping! Have fun with work, daddy.”

“I will. Rub Mimi’s tummy for me, will you?”

“Mhm!”

Giving the two of you one last glance before hanging up, Jing Yuan is filled with the new found motivation. At that moment he thinks that busying himself for the full duration of the day is absolutely worth it, if he gets to give his girls undivided attention tomorrow.

And he will be damned if he lets something ruin it.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x fem!reader #jing yuan #dad!jing yuan #hsr fluff

[gojonanami]

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 - 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

summary: it's gojo's birthday, and he can't help but reflect on what birthdays have meant to him over the years, especially the year you decide you don't really want to do anything for his birthday (but it turns out you do).

contents: angst then fluff, i promise there's a happy ending, you just have to earn it, shibuya does not happen in this timeline, instead we celebrate gojo, slightly angsty, reflections on events of jjk 0, crack, all of gojo's students (aside yuta and hakari and rirara make an appearance), mentions of sex/pregnancy, innuendo

word count: 2,821

December 7, 1989. 

A day that had changed the balance of the jujutsu world irrevocably — the day Satoru Gojo had burst onto the scene. 

But to Satoru, the anniversary of that day had meant nothing to him for most of his life. It was another day in the calendar — the caretakers from the Gojo clan cared not for his birthday, as they did his development as the head and face of the Gojo clan. He had received the best of everything — the best foods, the best training, the best room in the compound. 

At least, the strongest sorcerer had. 

Satoru Gojo had barely received anything more than reverent bows, averted gazes, and hushed whispers — and he saw them all, with the six eyes he never had asked for. And Satoru Gojo had grown up without affection or anything of the sort — to the point where he had thought he was simply beyond that — love, compassion, or friendship — no, the only thing he had was duty. 

And birthdays only served as a marker that he had lived another year. 

Until they meant something more — when he had met Suguru, Shoko, and you. And then it had meant something for a little while. It meant a celebration with his friends — with a cake that you and Suguru had hastily made after a mission, while Shoko hung decorations (with the help of one of Suguru’s curses reaching the high points). It had meant forcing Nanami to wear a party hat against his will (Shoko and Haibara’s doing), and Satoru inevitably smearing cake on your face to start an all out food fight (which only ended with Satoru getting scolded and smacked on the head by Yaga, even on his birthday). And it meant you, Suguru, and Shoko giving him his first real birthday present — something he had never received in fifteen years of living. It meant something more. 

Until it didn’t, again. 

Because, now, it was another year he had spent without his best friend. Another year he watched other sorcerers die. Another year he had to spend apart from you and Shoko because you or he had been sent on missions while Shoko was stuck in the infirmary or the morgue. 

And now, this year it was the first time he had a birthday that Suguru wouldn’t age. He would never age again. He would stay 28 forever, and Satoru — he didn’t know what age he’d turn. He hoped he would die before old age or disease took him — he rather not live long enough for that. Although you and Suguru always joked that he would be even better looking as an old man. 

But all Satoru could think about was growing old alone — without anyone else around him. He was the strongest after all, how could anyone else survive? People around him were killed off one by one — and he was left all alone. And maybe that’s why he didn’t like birthdays — it was just another year, another year older — another year marking who had left him. 

And so many did. 

And how many birthdays would pass until he lost another? Would it be one of his students? Would it be Nanami? Would it be Shoko? Would it be you? 

You…you were someone he couldn’t bear to lose. He had already lost you once. Pushed you away after Geto defected, pushed himself into work until he was burnt out, and pushed away any thoughts that he had of you. It didn’t last. It wasn’t a year until you had battered at his walls and his actual door, forcing your way back into his life. 

And he was thankful you did, because he didn’t know if he would have found his way out of the hole he had dug himself in — before the dirt covered and buried him. 

You — you would never let his birthday go. You never let him go a year without making him feel special, in one way or another. Last year, you had baked him his favorite cake, took him on a trip to a hot spring, and made arrangements to make sure the two of you weren’t disturbed the entire weekend (which was a feat of miracles on par with his six eyes and limitless itself). 

“C’mon, just tell meeeee,” 

And the strongest sorcerer’s snatching your gradebook out of your hand for the millionth time, and you surely look unamused, brow knit together, as you rub your temples, “You know living with you is worse than a child,” 

“Wanna test your theory? I could fill you up right now and nine months—” 

“I’m going to murder you,” and he only shrugs, all too smug. 

“You’d miss me too much,” and he adds, “plus I know you’re strong, but you couldn’t—” 

“Finish that sentence and you’re sleeping on the couch all week, I don’t care if it is your birthday tomorrow,” and he meets your gaze, and you’re unwavering, as he sighs, and hands over your grade book. 

“We really aren’t doing anything?” your husband asks, raising a single eyebrow curiously, “you always have something up your sleeve, sweetheart,” 

You frown, setting your grade book aside, “I just thought with everything going on — Yuji’s appearance, the special grades running around — I don’t think we should be away right now, and I thought we could do something small, just you and me,” 

He nods slowly, a smile shoddily crafted and pasted on his lips, “Yeah, bet if I leave, the higher ups may try to pull something on Yuji,” he sighs dramatically, leaning his head back on the couch, “what a curse to be the strongest,” 

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” you press a kiss to his forehead, “you sure you’re okay with not doing anything?” 

“Of course,” he finds your lips in a kiss.  

But why wasn’t he? 

He wasn’t one to care for things like this. He thought he was beyond caring about things like this. But all he could feel was the festering urge of disappointment seeping into his thoughts. Even the next day, the universe seemed to be against him, sent on a wild goose chase mission to hunt down a supposed special grade only to find two grade A curses that he took care of with ease. 

He trodded back home to you — lips still in a pout that he couldn’t even enjoy his morning with you on his birthday. He didn’t even get to enjoy cuddling with you — woken up to travel across the country to deal with some curses he didn’t need to handle. 

It didn’t used to be like this — sent off to do missions alone. Again and again. Heavy was the head that bore the crown, but no one had mentioned how lonely it was. Lonely even surrounded by those who tried to understand him — and he had you, he had you, but how could anyone truly see him for who he was — when he didn’t feel like he knew who he was anymore. Suguru’s question still rang in his ears — was he the strongest because he was Gojo Satoru, or was he Gojo Satoru because he was the strongest? 

And all these years later, he still didn’t know the answer. He didn’t know if he would ever know the answer. 

But he didn’t have time to linger on his thoughts as he spotted his home in the distance, but that wasn’t all he saw — there was a lot more cursed energy at home than usual — multiple people in his home, and his lips curled. 

He sneaks up, diminishing his presence to nothing, as he pressed his ear to the door, and he could hear them — 

“Too high, Itadori, lower!” Nobara barked, and Yuuji groaned, “come on, how long is it gonna take you to do this?” 

“Then why don’t you get up here and do it?” he snaps back, and Nobara scoffs. 

“I’m supervising, that’s why,” 

“EH? Who else are you supervising besides me?” 

“Stop messing around you two, and get the banner hung,” Megumi sighs, and Satoru could imagine him scowling, “Inumaki-senpai, do you need more balloons?” 

“Salmon,” 

“Maki, hurry up with cutting those strawberries, Nanami is almost done frosting the cake,” Satoru could hear Panda chewing and then a distinct THUNCK. 

“THEN STOP EATING THEM YOU DAMN ANIMAL!” 

“Alright, alright, stop fighting guys,” Satoru heard you sigh, “Nanami, I hope the frosting and cakes I baked were decent — I followed the recipe you gave me to a tee,” 

“You did a good job from what I could tell, but I’m pretty sure you could feed that idiot a plain cup of sugar, and he’d like it just the same,” and Satoru pouts, hearing Shoko laugh as well. 

“Especially if it’s from you,” Shoko teases you, as you scoff playfully, “can’t believe you two got married still — won’t be long until there are little Gojos running around, if Satoru has his way, with the way he’s been railing you,”

“Can we change the subject?” Nanami asks, disgust evident. 

You only chuckle, “Well, he’s insisted that we start trying once things settle down, saying it never hurts to practice, but—” and then your phone chimes, “Yaga said Toru’s on his way back for a while, he should be close.” 

There’s a mad dash and scramble as they put everything in its place, and Satoru leans against the side of the house — they even put up a curtain to hide their cursed energy on the inside, prioritizing invisibility. 

And Satoru grins  — all this for him? 

“Let me video call him and see where he is — I think I can distract him enough,” and he teleports down the road from his home, as your phone call comes through, “hi birthday boy, are you almost home?” 

“Almost,” he hums, “need something, sweetheart?” 

“Just my lovely husband home so I can cuddle him,” you smile, and he can see you’re walking into your shared bedroom now, sound of the door closing behind you, “got a surprise on for you under this dress,” 

And he’s pausing, “is that right?” And the party ebbs away from his mind, as your fingers slid the straps of your dress down, and teasing the baby blue and white lingerie set underneath, “my perfect birthday gift — all ready for me to unwrap?” 

“As soon as you get home,” and all blood flees his brain and heads southward, “I’ll be waiting,” 

And you disconnect the call — and he’s rushing now, party be damned. He would have you in bed, even if he had to sneak away with you upstairs for five minutes. 

He unlocks the door, and hears several bangs from poppers, as all of his students, colleagues, and friends shout “surprise!” And he smiles, glancing around at the birthday decorations, the birthday cake precariously balanced in Yuji’s hands, and you — grinning right at the front of the group, holding a bouquet of red roses. 

Everyone is stepping up to wish him a happy birthday, even grumbling happy birthdays from Megumi and Maki, as his arms curl around you after, “did I fool you?” 

And he only smiles, “I’m always a fool for you, sweetheart,” and his lips find yours, only yielding disgusted groans from most of your students, “and don’t think I forgot about my present,” he whispers, while pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, “I have a feeling I’ll be tearing off the wrapping soon enough,” he winks. 

You roll your eyes, “Party first, presents later,” your hand finds his as you take him to mingle. 

Satoru doesn’t get his wish of a secret rendezvous with you — but he does get several other gifts from his students — a blue ray of Human Earthworm 4 from Yuji, Crocs from Nobara (“they’re as tacky as you are”), Megumi gives a gift card (Yuji: “No creativity,” Nobara: “Seriously how boring,” and Yuji earns a fist to the head from Megumi). The second years’ pitched in and bought him a book on ‘how to date’ (“it was Yuta’s idea — he’s not sure you know how to date even after getting married”). 

He’s being pulled over to cut the cake that Yuji miraculously only dropped once (but Maki had luckily caught), you at his side, as everyone crowds around for him to cut it, and he thinks, maybe he doesn’t need to be understood as the strongest — maybe he can just be understood as Satoru Gojo, and that can be enough. 

And he blows out his candles, as your fingers interlaced with his, and he’s cutting a particularly big chunk to feed you, nearly smearing it over your lips, “What did you wish for—umph—” and he’s kissing you, the sweet frosting didn’t compare to the sweetness of your lips, your fingers finding his shoulder, and he barely hears the groans of his students, parting as you softly pant, beautiful smile spread on your face, “Toru—” 

“I have everything I could wish for,” and he’s pressing his forehead to yours, before you kiss his nose, only to drag some frosting across his cheek, “oi!” 

“That’s for smearing cake all over my face,” you brush the crumbs from your chin, and he only grins wider. 

As he’s pulling you close with an arm around your waist, his breath warm against your lips, “Will you help clean it off?” and you roll your eyes, as his students grimace at his words, booing him. 

You only give a small smile, and kiss his cheek, whispering, “...after they leave,” and they do soon enough, after everyone enjoys their slice of cake and a few drinks (Yuji sneaking a glass of wine when Nanami isn’t looking), they leave to go back home. 

Satoru collapses on the couch first, and then you toss yourself beside him, throwing your legs over his lap, “Tired?” you curl yourself against him, your head finding his shoulder, nose brushing against the warm nape of his neck. 

“Was that mission earlier your doing?” 

“Well how else would I get you out of the house with all your pestering? And knowing you, you would have kept me in bed all morning,” and he laughs, as his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you properly into his lap. 

“How’d you see my birthday wish list?” and you scoff, as he presses sweet kisses to your neck, “you still have one more gift to give me, one that you teased me with earlier,” and his fingers are creeping up your bare thigh, squeezing teasingly at your flesh. 

“Two more, actually,” and he’s tilting his head, as you grab the bouquet of flowers from the coffee table where he had left it, “you missed something in here,” 

And he’s smiling, as he pulls a small box nestled in the middle of the roses, “What’s this—” and his fingers are too quick for his question, as he’s met with your gift. 

Positive. 

He stares — stares if it would disappear before his eyes, that somehow the six eyes were wrong this one time — the one time it mattered. 

“Are you really surprised with all the practice we’ve been getting in?” and he gives a brief chuckle, shaking his head, as you chew your lip at his relative silence, “wow, have I rendered the great Satoru Gojo — the man who never shuts up even when he should — speechless?” he still says nothing, “Toru? Say somethin—” 

And his arms are wrapping you in a hug, pulling you fully into his lap, as he engulfs you in his warmth, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “Are you sure I’m the father?” 

You snort, “Satoru, I swear to god, I’m going—” 

And his lips find yours in a sweet kiss, palms cupping your cheeks, as his blue eyes swim with a happiness you’d rarely seen before, as he presses kisses all over your face, until he’s kneeling before your stomach, pressing a sweet kiss to it. 

“You better look like your mom or I’m going to demand a re-do,” 

You huff, “Satoru, we aren’t having another kid for at least three years—” 

“We didn’t mean to have a kid right now, but we are,” he gives a devilish smirk, before you cross your arms, unamused. 

“I swear, we have another kid before three years are up, and I’m sleeping in a separate bedroom,” and his arms are looping around your waist to pull you close. 

“You can’t resist me for that long,” and he’s pulling into a kiss again, your arms wrapping around his neck, as your lips part. 

“Try me,” and he pouts before you laugh, tugging him to the bedroom, “come on, birthday boy, I believe I owe you one last present,” and his lips are curled again as he follows you eagerly, your dress over your head and on the bedroom floor before he’s two steps into the room. 

December 7, 2018. 

A day that changed the balance of Satoru Gojo’s family life — for the better. 

a/n: this was supposed to be pure fluff but turned into angst / fluff - as always. i can't write anything w/o angst.

tag list: @merzel69695, @senseiigojo, @forest-fruits-jam, @forest-hashira, @amanemisamisa, @ririthedevil, @a1is0n-png, @chosomoso, @hawkwithsocks, @aliyalala, @icecubesaredelicous, @sugurusdiscordmoderator, @acewoo, @sodoney,

#sab [mlist] #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fanfiction #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru gojo imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fanfiction #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x you #dividers by @/saradika

[cupid-styles]

omg bestieeeee i so need hocker h nd ballerina to talk and smooch !!!!! ngl i’m a sucker for protective and jealous h 🤭🤭🤭🤭 🐱

I feel like ive made you guys wait way too long for this one gvkdfjgkf

a continuation of this blurb! (and sort of this one)

word count: 2.3k (we had a lot of ground to cover)

content warnings: minor mentions of smut, slight angst but all is fixed by the end, not ramadan friendly

main masterlist | hockey h masterlist

talk to me

. . .

Two weeks.

Two weeks of radio silence from Y/N.

Two weeks of over-thinking everything he did that night.

Two weeks of Harry drunk texting her on lonely nights.

please just tell me if you hate me

im so sorry

ill leave you alone if its what you want, I just need to know

Each and every time, Y/N read his messages, eyes scanning over the words, and locked her phone.

The truth is, she doesn't know what she wants from him, if anything. She doesn't know why she felt so attracted to him that night — she was tipsy, not drunk, and in complete control of her actions. She never hooked up with people in public — no messy makeouts, but she certainly never let anyone finger her in the hallway of a bar.

The entire thing was completely unlike her. Maybe that's what scared her the most.

Deep down, she wanted to reply to him, but she didn't even know what to say. She didn't want him to leave her alone — maybe that was selfish, but she liked knowing he was at least a little okay. She'd even been keeping secret tabs on the hockey team. They had won their past two games, but Harry had been thrown out in the most recent one for unsportsmanlike conduct. Apparently, he'd gotten into a fight with one of the players on the other team.

Admittedly, that worried her, but she didn't want to be his babysitter. On top of that, the spring showcase was this weekend, and she'd thrown every last bit of her energy into rehearsing and practicing to make sure her performance would be absolutely flawless.

She didn't have the time — or mental capacity — to worry about Harry right now.

. . .

"You look like an idiot."

Harry rolls his eyes as he adjusts the collar on his button down for the third time. James and his girlfriend Melanie had helped him with ironing it out so it looked presentable enough on his body. Anything he ever did rarely called for slacks and button up shirts, but Melanie advised him to look polished and put-together for tonight.

He wasn't in a place to reject her advice.

The other teammates that James lived with weren't quite as kind. Stephen, a sophomore defenseman who was only on the team for the perks of sleeping with every girl he could get his hands on, wouldn't stop throwing sarcastic comments Harry's way.

"Shut up, Stephen!" Melanie calls from the living room. She marches into James' bedroom as Harry smoothes out a few leftover wrinkles in his slacks, swallowing tightly. "When's the last time you cared about something besides fucking random girls? At least Harry has some direction in his life."

"I'm just saying, the girl's been ignoring him for weeks. She's gonna laugh in his face."

"Leave!" Melanie exclaims, batting him on the shoulder. Stephen lets out a yelp of pain and Harry smirks, despite the anxiety throbbing in his chest. "You're not helping! Get out!"

Reluctantly, Stephen rolls his eyes as he follows Melanie's orders and leaves the room. She sighs and comes up from behind Harry before flashing him a hopeful grin.

"You look great, H. I think this is a really sweet gesture."

He nibbles on his bottom lip as he turns to face her. "Okay, but what if Stephen's dumbass is right? She could call security on me and have me removed."

Melanie gives him a sympathetic look, "Yeah, it's a possibility. But isn't it better to go down fighting?"

He shrugs.

"You said ballet is her everything. It's her entire life. Show her that you're willing to integrate yourself into that."

"Yeah," he breathes out, nodding slowly. "Yeah, you're right."

"I know I am." she grins. "Okay, let's get you over there. Don't forget the flowers you picked up!"

. . .

30 minutes later, Harry can't stop shifting uncomfortably as he sits in an aisle seat in the campus auditorium at Y/N's spring showcase.

The massive bouquet of flowers in his lap keep making his nose run and he feels like he's being suffocated by the buttons on his shirt that go all the way up to his neck. Best of all, according to the show program, Y/N isn't scheduled to go on until the very end. She mentioned to him once that being placed as the finale act is the best and biggest compliment, and he can't fight the bit of pride that thrums in his heart.

For an hour, he sits there, fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt and pinching his bottom lip between his fingers as he waits for Y/N to go on. He sits through mediocre singing showcases and even a violin solo that almost puts him to sleep, if not for the older man clearing his throat next to him. Melanie and James even text him during the intermission to see how it's going, but he doesn't have much to report back.

Finally, the show comes to a close and her name is announced, following by the title of the French piece of music she's dancing to. His heart throbs in his chest — he's so nervous for her, especially knowing she hurt her ankle just a few weeks back. But the second she graces the stage, she's a vision of beauty, strength, and delicacy all at the same time. It's enough to take Harry's breath away.

As he sits there watching her, he doesn't move a muscle. Not for a single jump, spin, or step. He doesn't know anything about ballet — not aside from what Y/N has told him — but in that moment, he realizes that he'd be willing to learn every little thing there is to know if it meant she let him back into her life.

She's gorgeous. She offers a flawless performance and the second she's finished, a look of relief washes over her face as she takes a subdued bow, her pretty eyes widening when she sees all the people — Harry included — standing and applauding her.

For Y/N, the hard part was over. For Harry, it had just begun.

. . .

Y/N is elated to have a moment of silence after her performance.

With the dressing room door shut behind her, she lets out a long, deep breath. The dance she'd been driving herself crazy over for months was finally over.

And yet, for some reason, she feels empty.

She shoves it down as sits, eager to get her pointe shoes off. She's ready to shed her costume and get into sweatpants and head home. She knows the rest of the performers are heading out to a party tonight, but she's exhausted.

She's sorting through the bag of clothes she brought when there's a soft knock at the door. She knows she only has around 20 minutes to get out before the janitorial staff starts cleaning, so she rises with a sigh, unlocking the door and opening it.

"I'll be done soon, I just need to change—"

It's not the janitor, though.

It's Harry. Standing there stiffly in a starchy button down with a huge bouquet of flowers that almost encompass the width of his broad shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" she blurts without thinking.

"I came to watch you perform," he replies gently. His throat bobs as he hands her the flowers. "These are for you."

"You didn't watch me." she snorts with a shake of her head. She hasn't accepted the bouquet yet.

"Yes, I did," he instantly fires back, "What, do you wanna see my ticket for proof? I was in seat F34, next to an old man who kind of smelled like soup, and he kept clearing his throat and it was really annoying but I didn't care because I came to see you, and I'd sit through hours of bullshit to watch you dance."

Harry can't read the blank expression of her face, but he takes it as a step in the right direction when she takes the flowers from him. She blinks as she glances past him and then steps aside, motioning for him to come in.

"I have to get my shit together and leave soon, so... just sit in here."

He nods. He's hesitant to allow himself to relax since he's not sure if he's in the clear yet. She closes the dressing room door behind her and places the bouquet on her vanity.

"I need to change," she says, spinning around to face him. "Close your eyes."

He chuckles until he sees the serious expression on her face. "Wait, really?"

"Yes, really."

"But... I— y'know—"

"Just turn the fuck around, Harry."

He does as he's told, shutting his eyes as he listens to her roll her tights down and step out of her leotard. One day, if she let him, he'd be more than happy to do that for her — not even in a sexual way, but he knows how tiring it can be to take off his own gear after a long game. He thinks it would be nice to be there for her.

"Okay, you're good," she murmurs. She's stuffing her things in her tote bag when he bats his eyes back open.

"Are you meeting up with anyone after this? I'm sure your friends came to see you, but I just wanted to maybe talk and... y'know, clear the air a bit." Harry says, wringing his hands nervously in his lap. Y/N furrows a brow as she analyzes his body language. She doesn't think she's actually seen him look anxious before.

"Um... no," she says with a shake of her head before quickly revising her answer, "No, I mean, I'm not meeting up with anyone and no one came to see me. Except you, I guess."

"Wait, really?"

She sighs as she pauses the process of gathering her things. "Really, Harry."

He swallows tightly. They're silent for a moment as she grabs her jacket and throws it over her shoulders.

"Come over and we'll talk. I borrowed my friend Matt's car for the night but— yeah, you can follow me to my place or whatever. And I can't promise I'll be awake for much longer but I think clearing the air could be... good."

A rush of relief makes its way through Harry's body.

"Okay. Yeah, let's do that."

. . .

"I never said it, but you were flawless tonight."

Y/N laughs breathily as she settles onto her couch, a cup of sleepy time tea in her hand. Harry rejected her offer for one (his response had been, "Y/N, do I look like someone who drinks tea with a sleeping bear on it?") but he'd be lying if he said it didn't at least smell good.

"I fucked up on one of my jetés — I'll get yelled at for it on Monday, but otherwise I'm decently content with the performance."

"Well, you couldn't tell," Harry replies, "Seriously. You were perfect."

Her cheeks warm and she stares down at her tea. Her legs are sprawled out in front of her while Harry sits on the other edge of the couch, giving her plenty of room to stretch out.

"So... clearing the air."

Harry clears his throat and nods, prepared to embark on the speech he'd been practicing in his head for weeks. But then, she speaks.

"I'm sorry for running out on you and ignoring you," she says, keeping her gaze down in her lap. "That wasn't... I'm not the best person. I'm bad at feelings and I use ballet as a crutch. I figure it's the one thing I'm really, exceptionally good at, and that should give me a pass in life but I know that's not true. I can't just go around treating people like shit because I'm... scared."

"What are you scared of?" Harry asks through furrowed brows. "I'm sorry if I stepped out of line that night, I should've been better—"

"You didn't. You were great. You did everything perfectly," she replies with a shake of her head. Her response surprises him, but he tries to hide the shock on his face. "I'm scared because you're you. You're a hotshot hockey player and, besides this showcase, you're the only other thing I've thought about these past few weeks. That's horrifying for me."

"Is this...?" Harry attempts to roll his lips into a thin line, preventing a smirk from bursting onto his face. "Is this a very Y/N way of telling me that you like me?"

She groans, as if it's the worst thing to ever happen to her, and it makes Harry laugh.

"Don't laugh at me!" she exclaims. That only makes Harry cackle even louder as he slowly crawls over to her, taking her warm cup of tea out of her hands and placing it on the coffee table.

"You're cute when you're exasperated." he murmurs. She pouts and his eyes crinkle with a grin as he peels her shaky hands away from her face.

"You're the one exasperating me."

"I know," he replies lowly, licking his lips as his face hovers over hers, "I like it."

"This isn't us agreeing to date, by the way." she quickly tacks on. He issues out a mhm as he leans forward, testing the waters, and pressing a light kiss to her nose. "We need to take it slow. Like, painfully slow. Or else I'll freak out and run away again."

"Whatever you want." he mumbles, kissing her right cheek. "I mean it."

"And you can't just overwhelm me whenever you feel like it."

He laughs and kisses her left cheek, then her forehead.

"Okay. Any other demands?"

He stops pasting kisses to her face then, instead choosing to simply loom his lips over hers. He can feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest and watches as she swallows nervously.

"No," she finally whispers. "Just kiss me."

And so he does.

#writing #hockey h #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles one direction #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x oc #harry styles au #harry styles smut #one direction #harry styles x y/n #hockerry #harry's house #fine line #hs4

[bayjaruchel]

Whammy Kiss Me (Whammy Hug)

－－－

Pairing: Clapton Davis/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven isn't a pointless party game, after all. (3.9k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

－－－

It's not until the closet door shuts that you realize the gravity of your current situation. 

You've been at the party for at least a couple of hours; you've grown used to the general noise. The slight haziness of the air. You're not quite hammered yet, but you've got one or two drinks in your system. Just enough that you can enjoy the feeling without worrying about the hangover tomorrow. Judging by the way that a couple of people had been giggling and swaying, not everyone who was sitting around the circle shared your sense of self-conservation. 

Although it hadn't been the brightest outside— it was dim, but also somewhat illuminated at the same time with the neon lighting— the single lightbulb hanging above your heads doesn't do much against the darkness. 

Yeah. Heads, plural. 

Luckily, there's only one person in the cramped space besides yourself. 

Unluckily, that person is one Clapton Davis. 

It's not that you don't like him. Actually, you feel the exact opposite towards him, but that's not the point. It's just that— you know, you could spend seven minutes just sitting in silence, doing absolutely nothing— but you're suddenly hyper-aware of the way your knees are brushing. The way there's something in the air. Maybe you're just imagining it, but there's something … restless. Something like—  

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when he speaks. 

"So," he says, casually. As if you're not within necking distance in a cramped space. "You enjoying the party?" There's that same easy grin on his face. He's completely at ease, apparently. You're not sure if that's because of his ever-present (and sometimes misguided) confidence, or because he's used to stupid little party games like this. It's probably a combination of both. 

"Yeah." You find yourself replying, almost on autopilot. "The punch isn't as bad as I thought it would be." 

Clapton honest-to-god giggles at that. "It's still pretty shitty, though."

"I wouldn't say shitty."  

"Awful, then." He raises his eyebrows. "Let's just say that it's an … acquired taste." 

You can't help but smile. "Fair." He's right— you're pretty sure that the only people who actually enjoy it are the people who regularly attend these parties. Said people usually just come to get drunk, anyway, and the punch works wonders. Magically malicious.  

"It's either that or cheap beer," he muses. "Or wine busted from mommy and daddy's fridge in the basement." 

"Expensive wine?" 

"Could be." Clapton shrugs, pulling his knees closer to his chest. You try in vain not to focus on his arms as he wraps them around his legs. Was it really necessary to wear the tank top? "Maybe," he says. "But I doubt that anyone here would wanna drink it." 

You unconsciously mirror his posture. "Why's that?" 

He snorts. "Too classy." 

It sort of makes sense. You can't really see Josh from Calculus sipping a glass of pinot noir, much less enjoying it. Maybe one has to start from the bottom of the hypothetical alcohol pyramid and work their way up. The bottom, meaning Bud Light. Or Coors Light. All of the Lights. 

"Cheap beer it is, then." 

Clapton's grin is back. 

"Unfortunately." 

You're starting to relax, even if you can still feel your heart pounding whenever his eyes meet yours. Even if your eyes are lingering. When he reaches up to idly run his fingers through his hair, you can't stop yourself from wondering: is it as soft as it looks? 

"How much time d'you think we have left?" He asks, just as you're attempting to reel yourself back in. 

"Uh," you start. Nice. "I don't know— maybe, like, four minutes or so?" Spending a couple of minutes talking about drinks wasn't exactly the plan, but you're not exactly complaining. It's still better than awkward silence. You wonder— again— about how many times he's done this before. How long does it usually take before people give in? 

The muffled music from outside has been reduced to just the thumping of the bass, and the rhythm matches your pulse. 

"Four minutes," he echoes. 

You can't hold his gaze, glancing down at your knees instead. 

"Yeah." 

You can tell when Clapton adjusts himself where he's sitting, but you have a feeling that he hasn't looked away. Not yet. 

"What do you wanna do now?" He asks, innocently. "Four minutes is a long time." 

When you look up, you're proven right. The faint glow of the light doesn't hide anything. It just makes everything feel vaguely dreamlike. And, okay. This is pretty cliche. But you've watched too many movies, seen too many shows—  you know what that look is. That look doesn't mean that he wants to play rock-paper-scissors for the remainder of your time left. 

"I don't know," you manage. "What do you want to do?" 

His eyes dip briefly before flicking back up. 

"I was asking you," he teases softly. "We've already had a pointless conversation." He mimes checking a box midair with his pointer finger. "Check. And we've already sat in silence for a couple of seconds." He repeats the motion on another imaginary box. "Check." 

"Oh, ouch. Talking about alcohol is pointless?" You're a little amused. "So, what's left on the list?" 

Clapton raises his eyebrows again. 

There's a shift in the air. 

"C'mon, don't tell me that you actually don't know." His tone's dropped to little more than a whisper, but due to your closeness, you can hear him loud and clear. Your brief bit of confidence wanes— your face warms, and you pause. Sure, you're well aware of what he's implying— but you're not sure if he's just joking around or not. When has Clapton Davis ever been serious, besides that one time he competed in a skateboarding competition in the sixth grade?  

The lighthearted lilt in his voice is almost gone, though. 

"I know what you're trying to say," you finally reply, matching his volume. And you do want to kiss him. You really, really do. 

"Okay," he murmurs in return. "Well, that's good." He dares to smile, though you know you're weak to it. 

"I don't have to ask you out loud, right?" 

He definitely already knows the answer to that question. 

"Yeah, you don't." 

You've tuned out the outside world, muffled as it already was. The music and noise fade to a quiet hum. You can hear the quiet buzz of the lightbulb— the barely audible clattering as your back moves against the uncomfortable storage shelves— the sound of his sneakers scuffing against the hardwood floor— 

"But if I did ask," he says, uncharacteristically hesitant, "you'd say yes?"  

Your heartbeat thrums in your throat. 

The seconds tick by— you know you can't wait. It's been at least a minute and a half— 

"Just do it," you breathe.   

And he does. 

The first thing you register is how soft his lips are. Then, his hands— cupping your face— your own hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, tugging him closer. His hair is as soft as it looks. There's no slow build-up because there's no time for that. All you can think about is him— the little sounds he lets out as you kiss, the way he can't wait when you part, his breath briefly coming in soft pants before he leans in to capture your lips again. He tastes vaguely like beer, and maybe that would have bothered you if it were any other guy— but with him, you don't really care at all. His nose presses a little awkwardly against yours a couple of times, but he makes up for it with how eager he is. You know he's not a bad kisser; he's just impatient. 

You lose yourself for a little while. It feels like forever. You wrap your arms around his neck, reluctantly dropping your grip on his hair. His hands start to stray, one anchoring itself behind your neck and the other traveling lower. And lower— 

There's a loud series of knocks at the door. 

Clapton's slower to react, and you're the one to pull back first. When you do, he leans forward to chase your lips—  but stops upon noticing your expression. In direct comparison to you, he just looks giddy. Almost dazed. His hair's a little disheveled from earlier, and he hasn't let go of you yet. 

"Huh," he says, before the door is yanked open. 

You're immediately greeted by exactly what you had expected. Whistles. Catcalls. General hooting. Some "called it!"s and "you owe me five bucks, man!"s. 

Clapton just grins, reveling in it all. Because of course he would. But, before you can get too embarrassed, he's getting to his feet, pulling you along with him as you both exit the closet— exiting what had previously been your own little world. Instead of just rejoining the circle, like part of you expects him to do, he pauses to lean over to you and whisper: 

"Wanna go upstairs?" 

You blink at him. He's still smiling— he almost looks star-struck. You feel that familiar swoop in your stomach. Maybe it's a stupid decision that you'll regret later, but—

"Okay," you agree. 

The whistling doesn't stop as he grabs your wrist, making a beeline for the stairs. The son of a bitch takes them two at a time, and you do your best to keep up. Upstairs, it's quieter than it is on the ground floor, since there are fewer people up here; still, though, you can hear the music echoing through the hallway. A girl's laughter rings out, followed by a string of giggles. 

It's not very hard to find an empty bedroom. You gingerly shut the door behind you, taking a moment to look around. There are one or two posters here and there, and a few photos placed on the dresser. Other than that, it's kind of bare-bones. A guest room, maybe? You sure hope so. While you're distracted, Clapton leisurely sits down on the bed, bouncing a couple of times. 

"Cozy," he remarks, and you turn to look at him. 

"You think?" 

He grins. "Sure do." 

You sit next to him on the mattress. It's not bad. For a moment, he just looks at you. Taking you in. 

But he doesn't hesitate much longer, and leans in. Automatically, you angle your head just so. Unlike before, he kisses you in small pecks at first. One of his hands finds your cheek. However, as the minutes draw by, your kisses grow longer. More languid. He hums into your mouth, and you move closer. Closer, until your thighs are brushing his, and you're nearly off-balance, but it's still not close enough. 

He draws back. This close to him, you can pick out his freckles. His eyelashes are long, framing half-lidded eyes. His lips are still parted. 

"Should I lay back?" He asks, hushed. "Or do you wanna—" 

"Go ahead," you interrupt.  

Clapton flops backward onto the pillows, wiggling around to make himself more comfortable. When you think he's got himself in a good position, you crawl over him. The way he looks up at you— it makes you a little lightheaded, but in the best way possible. His hands find your waist. You can do little but settle against him, pressing your lips to his for the nth time. 

Enthusiastically, he responds, and it's not long before your kisses grow messier. Needier. His hands wander, moving down to rest on your hips, and then lower— you let out a gasp when he squeezes your ass, and he uses the opportunity to pull you harder against him. You're no stranger to how strong his arms are, but, yeah, being on top of him like this is an entirely new experience. He's soft and firm in equal measures, his chest sturdy where it's pressed against yours. His hands are warm when he moves them under your shirt, up your back, making you shiver.  

Bracing your hands on his torso, you sit up. For a second, he's confused, but that quickly fades away as you reach down to pull up your shirt. 

"Holy shit," he murmurs. He scrambles to discard his tank top too, yanking it over his head. You were right— he's toned, but there's still a fair bit of softness there. Of course his chest doesn't have any hair, but at least he kept the trail. You lay back on top of him, the feeling of his skin against yours like this causing you to shudder again. Clapton's hands start to explore once more— square palms, strong fingers. It must be a little bit of an uncomfortable stretch for him, but his thumbs find your nipples, tracing soft circles. 

You briefly enjoy the sensation. Then, your breath stutters when he gently urges you forward and then leans up so he can take them into his mouth. It must be self-indulgent for him, too, because he spends more time than necessary— sucking, flicking his tongue— but it's not like you're complaining.  

When he finally stops, he presses a kiss to the middle of your chest before laying back on the pillows. You move back down, and can't resist the urge to kiss him in return. His jaw— his cheek, which makes him smile. He's already started hooking his fingers in your waistband, and your mild surprise must show on your face, because he abruptly stops. 

"Sorry," he grimaces, "am I going too fast? I - Is that too much?" 

Hastily, you shake your head. "Oh, no. Not at all. It's fine. Just— it just caught me off-guard."  

"Okay." The worry vanishes in an instant. "Okay, I'm gonna." 

You let him slide down your bottoms, and then take them off the rest of the way yourself. His shorts quickly join the rest of the clothing on the floor. Now, you're more or less sitting in his lap— he props himself up on the headboard, his breath heavy as you shift on top of him. With only a few layers between you, you're aware of the shape of him through his boxers.  

You grind your hips with purpose, and he swears under his breath. When you do it again, he muffles himself by kissing you. The friction— you know it's not going to be enough— makes you more desperate, and it must be having the same effect on him, judging by the way he's slightly squirming underneath you. He's not quite thrusting up against you, but it's obvious that if he were in a better position, he would be. When your cunt brushes against him, catching at that angle, he moans openly into your mouth. You draw back only for air. If you could, you'd keep kissing him forever. 

"You gonna let me— mmh — fuck you?" He pants, "ohmygod, 'cause if you don't, you— you are one sick bastard—"  

You smile, although you want him just as badly as he wants you. You're doing a slightly better job at keeping yourself composed, after all. "I don't know," you murmur, "isn't this nice?" 

Clapton bites his lip when you grind down harder this time. "I — well," his hands scramble on your waist, your hips, "it is pretty nice, but, like — I just wanna take the logical— shitfuck — next step, right?" He's looking up at you with wide eyes, "and you are gonna let me, right?" 

"Right," you repeat, your breath catching when you roll your hips at just the right angle, "I am gonna let you, don't worry." 

He's flushed a pretty pink, pupils blown wide, obscuring hazel eyes; you drink him in. "Thought so," he grins. Before you can ask, he's already answering. "And, uh. There's a condom in the pocket of my shorts, if you're worried about that." 

You're in mild disbelief, abruptly halting your movements. 

"In your—?" 

Clapton looks a little bashful, though he's still grinning. "Could you just get it?"  

You're already awkwardly dismounting his lap. "Sure, sure." True to his word, there's a condom in the left pocket of his shorts, and you fish it out without a problem. You glance back at him for a moment, and he doesn't even try and pretend that he wasn't staring. Oh, well. A little clumsily, you get back onto the bed, and move to straddle him again— but he gently stops you. 

"Hey," he says, "can we switch places?" 

You don't need much time to consider it. "Alright." 

Now, he's hovering between your legs, and you're the one lying back. His gaze lingers, but he can't wait for much longer. You lift your hips, and he slides your last remaining piece of fabric off. 

"Fuck," he breathes, just before he gets to work. With the pad of one of his fingers, he collects the wetness that had been gathering, then smoothly slides the digit into your cunt. Swiftly, he adds another, the sensation odd at first, but you know you'll quickly get used to it. When he begins to lightly trace your clit, it only makes it easier for you to loosen up— both figuratively and literally. And he's still adding another. Maybe three fingers aren't strictly necessary, but he crooks them, finding the spot that makes an almost embarrassing noise tumble from your lips. 

You spread your thighs wider. You could definitely cum like this if you let him continue for a while. Glancing up at his face— oh, he definitely would if you wanted him to. He's torn between looking at how his fingers disappear into you and your face. How you're reacting to his touch. It's a little flattering. But as much as part of you wants to see what he's willing to do — 

"I'm — " You feel yourself tense, and you barely stifle an involuntary moan when he thumbs your nub again. "I'm ready. You can —" 

He doesn't even wait until you finish the sentence. He's already pulling out his fingers, tugging off his boxers. Your eyes are immediately drawn downward. Again, you're not surprised that he's shaved. Length-wise, he's probably around average, but girth-wise he's nice and thick. There's a bead of precum at the tip— if he wasn't already tearing open the condom with his teeth in a move that he's probably practiced before, you would've offered to blow him or something. Maybe some other time. 

Your idle thoughts dissipate when he lines himself up and, with an amount of care that nearly belies his previous neediness, presses in. You both moan in unison— he sounds infinitely more strained. He takes a moment to catch his breath, but— 

He starts moving. Little thrusts, at first. Then, pulling out more, pushing back in. His mouth falls open, and you can't resist throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him down. He groans, and you take it in, taking it with his increasing pace. It's good— his thumb finds your sensitive apex again, and that makes you jolt, but you know he's trying to give you a smooth progression between slow and fast. That's not what you want, though. Especially not now. Inches from his lips, you mutter: 

"Don't hold back." 

And that's all it takes. You can vaguely hear the bed creaking when he snaps his hips up to meet yours, roughly fucking into you with almost reckless abandon. Your kisses are sloppy, uncoordinated. But you wouldn't prefer it any other way. You know he probably wouldn't be making those noises if he didn't know they were muffled against you. Some are high-pitched— ragged gasps, moans, and at least one whimper. You also know you don't sound much different. He can't reach down to rub your throbbing clit anymore, due to how he's positioned, but the way that he's angled is more than satisfying in that regard. 

You lose track of time, only aware of his hips colliding against yours— his lips, his hands — the way he's starting to babble. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this," he confesses in a rush, "god, your eyes. I could just — I could just look at you like this forever. If you could see yourself — nnh — you would know." A sharp intake of breath, a few kisses, and then, "Ohfuck. Shit. You're gonna ruin this forever for me. I can't — " 

His rhythm is starting to falter. You can feel the heat pooling low in your gut, the tension that comes before the inevitable release. You tighten around him. His hands braced near your shoulders tremble, and you can see his biceps flexing with the effort of holding himself up like this. 

"Please," Clapton chokes out, and he doesn't specify as to what he wants, but you have a pretty good idea. "I'm gonna— " 

"Do it," you manage, despite your own climbing pitch, "c'mon, give it to me—"    

"Fuck— "  You feel him pulse. For a split second, you wonder how it would feel if he didn't have on the condom—  but your thoughts are quickly overtaken, as you're not too far behind. You twitch, spasming around his cock as your mouth falls open. The tension peaks, the heat spikes— 

He fucks you, gently, as you float back down, riding out your orgasm. Your eyelids flutter shut, and your breath slows, but your pulse is still a fast-paced staccato. 

He gingerly lays on top of you, catching his breath. It's hot against your throat. The world ceases spinning, and you let out a long sigh. 

He mimics it, and you glance down at him. 

You're reluctant to say it, but seriously, this is someone else's house. Guest room or not. 

"We should get cleaned up or something." 

He blinks once, lazily. Seemingly, he's content to lay on your chest. Of course, he's the type to get sleepy after sex. But at least he makes an effort to respond. "Ugh," he says. And then: "Jus' gimme a minute or something." 

You give him a look, and he surrenders. "Okay, fine." 

He slips out with a wet noise, and you only miss the fullness for a moment. Getting off the mattress, he throws out the condom, then accepts the wad of tissues you hand him. It's not the best, but it'll have to do for now. You manage to get most of the evidence of your arousal off before pulling back on your clothes. There's a mirror, thankfully, so you go to try and make yourself look less … fucked. Not that it would really matter. There are definitely people in worse states. 

Clapton stands next to you, but doesn't even try to fix his hair. On him, it looks fashionably disheveled, anyway. 

It's silent, before he interjects: 

"Is this … gonna be just a one-time thing?" 

The strange apprehensiveness is back, and you chance a glance at him. He's not meeting your eyes, but you're sure he's looking at you in the mirror's reflection. 

"I don't know," is all you can think to say, "do you want it to be?" A beat. "We could totally go back to being just sort of friends, if that's what you want." 

Clapton visibly swallows. "I … " 

You wait, patiently. He takes another few seconds. 

"I liked that," he mutters, "a lot. And I— I meant all that stuff. About you." 

He's still not meeting your eyes. It makes you pause. 

"I liked it too," you reply, softly.

The look he gives you next says it all. You know he's not big on old-school romance. He's not big on flowery words— his English grades can certainly attest to that. He's more of an action-oriented guy. Even if you don't get a verbal confession just yet— and you know you will, just not now— you suddenly understand what he's trying to convey. So, you pull yourself together and throw caution to the wind. 

"You wanna get out of here?" 

He beams. 

#clapton davis x reader #clapton davis x you #clapton davis imagines #clapton davis smut #josh hutcherson x reader

[justporo]

Brewing Storms

A storm is brewing - oh yes, a literal one too. Tav's scared to be alone during a thunderstorm. Astarion is reluctant but stays to provide some comfort - and realises it might have been one of the better things to happen to him.

Author's Note: I started this a while ago and then stuff got in the way - like Gale for example (lol) - and now I'm happy to be back to write something soft for Astarion and Tav!

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Warnings: Talk of trauma, very light smut Wordcount: 2,4k

~~~

Astarion and you had fallen into a sort of weird routine with your little late night escapades. Since the party after you saved the Grove and the first night you’ve spent together you had come together time and time again.

First only every couple of days. Always meeting somewhere away from camp and then sneaking back sometime before the others woke up. Although you were surely fair they all knew already anyway. But now you were almost spending every night together. Fortunately for the two of you, being elven meant you were still getting enough rest despite the nightly adventures.

Astarion kept feeding you his cheesy lines – you ate them right up. No one had ever given you this kind of attention. And as much as you knew that it was an act: how could you resist? You had never experienced such flattery nor could anyone you’d shared intimacy with ever compare to Astarion. But that wasn’t even the main thing.

You’d had crushes before, you’d fallen in love before but you were pretty sure it had never been quite like this. Your whole chest sometimes ached when you looked at Astarion. Sometimes when you caught him in a rare moment when he let his perfected mask drop for a second you saw the bottomless sadness and worry in his eyes. And all you wished for was to erase whatever it was that caused that sadness – to keep him safe and always give him something to smile about.

You had quite positively fallen for the vampiric elf. What had been a crush at first had very quickly become an unyielding need in your heart: desperate to be near him, to hear his voice, talk to him, to laugh at his sassy comments, to lay in his arms and to hold him in turn. Out of everything you surely hadn’t wanted or planned to fall in love with everything else going on – but there you were.

You were a hopeless case – even though you were sure it would come back to bite you (and maybe even literally): be it that he lost interest in you way quicker than you would like or that he had ulterior motives and that you were merely a means to an end.

In fact, you were entirely sure that there was more to Astarion. You weren’t all fooled and blinded by your brewing emotions for the vampire. Maybe not really the first time, but as you got more used to sharing a bed with Astarion you were well aware that it seemed like he wasn’t fully there with you.

You could take only guesses at why that was exactly – and you didn’t like any of those.

At several occasions you had tried to bring it up. But he had swatted your concerns away every time, just making a sultry joke or drowning you with kisses until you had forgotten what you had wanted to say. In any case he always pushed you to get back into his arms.

Gladly, you would have offered him an open ear – your heart was already wide open.

But you were sure this wouldn’t last. You were in way over your head and you so desperately wanted to avoid breaking the spell.

And as much as you would have wished for him to open up more, to let you in a bit more and as much as you would have liked to confess the way you felt: you didn’t think you could do it without ruining whatever it was between the two of you.

At least, he seemed to be a bit more present when he was with you of late. The changes seemed subtle enough, but you were convinced that it slowly became different. Maybe it was just that the two of you had gotten used to this dance now, but you could swear his hands lingered longer now on your skin, that his kisses became deeper and more tender, that the way he looked at you became softer sometimes. And that those moments, when he seemed miles away, became fewer.

Tonight, when you had set up camp it had seemed like a storm was brewing.

You had already felt tense when you had noticed: growing up on the streets of Baldur’s Gate as a child with nowhere safe to go had traumatised you for life. Especially when it came to storms: too many nights you’d had to spend outside somewhere while the rain kept pouring down.

But worst had always been the thunder. Every single one like an explosion while a little child sat somewhere cowered trying to stay safe and crying from fear and loneliness. Even when you had gotten older and had always managed to secure a safe spot for sleeping and shelter the fear of thunderstorms had remained.

And thus far you’d gotten lucky that there had been no storms since this whole chaos had started. But the stroke of luck was over now it seemed.

When Astarion had thrown you certain looks after the party had gone to unwind each on their own after eating, you had very rambly and awkwardly suggested to maybe spend the night in your tent this night, because the others surely knew anyway and what if it started pouring and wasn’t it more comfortable anyway?

You just were desperate to not be somewhere outside when the thunderstorm was going to hit – and maybe even not alone.

And Astarion had looked at you suspiciously with a raised eyebrow, surely noticing that something was up. But in the end, he had simply shrugged and followed you to your tent.

So now you lay pressed against each other. Astarion on top of you, his body delightfully weighing you down, both of your shirts already off and his hands kept roaming your body as you gratefully gave in to his open-mouthed kisses. His hand had just dipped below the waistline of your trousers when you could hear the first far away rumbling.

Immediately you tensed a little but forced yourself to try and not be bothered by it. Astarion’s kisses wandered down your throat now.

A second already much louder rumble. You gasped.

And apparently Astarion had noticed that it wasn’t because of his touch – you could almost feel how he had furrowed his brows. But he kept silent and continued to kiss and caress you, leaning on one of his forearms.

When a third roar of thunder made you actually wince and recoil, he pushed up on his arm and looked at you. The other hand though stayed right where it was inside your pants.

“Afraid of a little thunder, love?”, he said and cocked an eyebrow. His tone wasn’t even overly sassy but you still couldn’t help but to feel hurt.

More thunder. This time so loud it felt like it was exactly above you. You recoiled again and felt how panic rose in you. You pushed the vampire - who actually looked hurt by that - off of you. His hand slipping from where it had caressed you.

“Maybe I am afraid of thunder. So?”, you spat back while you sat up and hugged your knees to your naked chest. As much as you wanted the comfort of his arms: panic and whatever feeling it had been that had overcome you when Astarion had looked hurt when you’d pushed him back got the better of you.

Shame mixed with the fear and you could feel your throat close up.

Astarion had knelt back on the balls of his feet watching you with a look in his eyes you couldn’t quite place. He definitely didn’t seem as cocky as a few moments ago though.

You looked away as another thing spiced up the mix of emotions running high: worry, that you had just broke something that couldn’t be repaired.

“I-“, Astarion started and then stopped helplessly.

The vampire was actually worried about you in this moment. Astarion was surprised by the sudden outburst of emotion and he was certainly hurt that you pushed him away. But more than anything: he didn’t know what to do now. Quite obviously you were not in the mood anymore for getting down and dirty.

It occurred to him that he did not want you to be afraid and upset. But then again, he had no idea how to make it so. And on top of that: he was pretty sure you weren’t interested in anything of the sort. Sure, you were absolutely the one person he talked the most to in the party. And yes, you were always making sure he’d gotten enough blood – but that was probably because you had need of him being his fittest for fighting. Also, you did actually seem to care about what had happened to him, wanting to learn more about him – but…

The vampire was confused and helpless. So he opted for the one option he deemed reasonable: leave.

He grabbed his shirt and started pulling it over his head while saying: “Alright, since it seems there won’t be any naughty indulgence tonight, I guess I better get back to my tent and you can try and-“

He was interrupted by you grabbing his wrist firmly.

“Please”, you pleaded, “don’t leave me alone.”

You were desperate: you didn’t want him to leave, you didn’t want to have ruined the delicate thing that had been forming between you.

Astarion let his shirt drop again and looked at you. Your eyes were filled with tears and full of fear. His confusion became even more: “Darling, I’m not… Maybe you should ask the druid to… help you. Maybe he has something herbal to-“ You basically yanked on the vampire’s arm.

“No please, Astarion, I just… want you to stay here with me. Just… hold me? Please?”, you pleaded with him as tears started to stream down your face.

You really didn’t want to be alone for one but also you were desperate to feel his arms around you again – to be sure he would still want to hold you, as much as wanting his comfort.

Astarion’s brows furrowed again but he dropped his shirt again and crawled over to you as you shyly opened up your arms to him to be cradled by the vampire. He slid his arms around you and softly moved you until you were laying there: him on his back with you carefully snuggled up against his chest – skin on skin.

The relief you felt was almost instant. Not only because he had agreed to stay but also feeling his body against yours immediately made some of the tension inside you ease.

Astarion reluctantly started to stroke your back as you buried your face against his chest. It all felt more than just a little awkward and you felt a blush creep onto your cheeks, but you just wrapped your arms around the vampire and tried to calm yourself.

Still tears kept coming and thunder was rolling in quicker now. Then the rain started as well and became a constant drumroll on your tent. The loud rumbles kept going and made you wince from time to time, but it was now considerably better than before.

Astarion grew more confident with just stroking your back. He even carefully placed a kiss on the top of your head at one point, in your all messed up hair. You both eased into this rather unfamiliar form of closeness.

After being stressed about the coming storm all evening, you felt that your body couldn’t retain the tension anymore. You weren’t entirely sure what all this meant for Astarion and you, but you forced yourself to just stay in this moment. Because this already was something you wouldn’t have thought to ever be possible. It was tender and sweet. Something you would have never imagined when this vampire had, upon first meeting him, thrown you on the ground and threatened you with a knife.

You were so desperate to hold onto this. So, you wrapped your arms around him a little tighter and cautiously tangled your legs with his. He let it happen.

And Astarion – Astarion’s mind was racing, utterly confused by the turn the night had taken. It definitely wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy this outcome – to his own surprise. Quite the opposite actually.

When the thunder subsided and the rain tap-tap-tapping on the tent ceiling was what remained of the storm and he felt you quite noticeably relax into his arms even more – his chest started to ache.

He was overthrown by his own sentiment and the trust you put into him; surprised, scared even.

In his thoughts Astarion kept turning around the fact how you had specifically asked him to stay with you although you had so visibly been upset. More upset even than he had ever seen you in any battle. And that you had wanted nothing but to be held in his arms. And he – to his own surprise – had been happy to be there for you, proud even, realising that he really wanted you to be alright.

You hadn’t even talked since he had taken you in his arms. Just felt the connection, your skin warm on his. His hands hesitatingly caressing and trying to comfort you while your tears subsided and your breathing became more even.

And even though it had been you who had pleaded for comfort – Astarion could feel it too. Felt, how the warmth of your body soaked into his undead body and your breath brushed over his naked upper body – now in a steady and calm rhythm again. You were so close, he could even feel the beat of your steadying heartbeat through your conjoined chests.

And when Astarion was sure that you must’ve drifted off into your dreams – because he had held you – he kept staring up at the ceiling of the tent.

The rain had become almost non-existent after what must’ve been hours now.

The vampire’s chest still ached with something he wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge yet. But he could feel that it had become something way too big to ignore. Something that would soon be unleashed – for better or for worse. And he was frightened about that.

But not in this moment. This moment he would hold onto. So he wrapped his arms around you a little tighter still, closed his eyes and full on buried his face in your hair while he was so fully aware of the feeling of your body against his.

Then he whispered so silently, even the last of the raindrops would have drowned out the words. So silently, because he was still so unsure, so scared and the words were only meant for him – and maybe sometime for you: “My love, what ever have you done to me?”

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #tav #one shot #drabble #bg3

[clockwayswrites]

Like Betta Fish Do- Final Part

WC: 3359, Masterpost

“The response to the article has been great— better even than we had predicted,” Tim informed the various family members as he joined them at the breakfast table, tablet in hand.

Jason glanced up from his porridge to look his little brother over. The eye bags were a little dark, but not to the point of concerning yet, at least not on Tim. Still… “You weren’t up all night running numbers, were you?”

“I slept, I just woke up early.” Tim said defensively. “Besides, it’s best to get data like this when it’s new. It allows me to compare the first reaction to the long term response and see if there are any shifts.”

“Good data gathering is important,” Jazz agreed, “but so is taking care of yourself.”

She set the bowl of porridge that she had just finished adding toppings to in front of Tim and blatantly stuck a spoon in his hand. Tim blinked down at the food for a moment before shrugging and taking a bite. Cass, smiling in amusement, handed Jazz a fresh bowl.

“Best news is,” Tim continued after he had swallowed, “that everyone thinks Danny is, and I quote, a ‘Beautiful Cinnamon Roll Too Good For This World, Too Pure’. I mean, that’s not really a new opinion, but the new article really cemented it.”

“I don’t know how to take that,” Danny said after a pause.

“I mean, I’d just be glad to not be a poor little meow meow,” Duke said as he leaned over to look at Tim’s screen.

“The big change,” Tim continued and tilted his screen for Duke to see better, “is that public opinion of Jason has recovered. It was always solid in Gotham, we get it here, but outside of Gotham people were really having some issues with how quickly Jason pressed the button. Danny going on record to say that he asked Jason to press it— that he knew that’s what he was saying— has made a real difference.”

That was good news, but something about the way that Tim was presenting it made Jason tense and he had to purposefully relax his grip around his spoon. “What’s the bad news?”

Tim glanced over at Jason for a moment before looking back down at his tablet. The way he chewed on his lip pretty much assured there was bad news.

“Tim,” Jason pleaded. He got they were all trying to protect them while Danny was still recovering, but he needed to know, “just tell me. I’d rather hear it here from you than out there on the street.”

“There’s a small, and I mean really small, group that claims we made Danny say those things,” Tim explained with a grimace. “It got dug up that Danny’s on a Wayne Inventors’ Scholarship. They’re saying that we threatened to pull the scholarship if he didn’t clear Jason.”

Maybe it was best just to set the spoon down before he bent it in half.

“We don’t publish those names,” Bruce commented, a heavy frown in place as he joined the breakfast table, own tablet in hand.

Tim nodded. “I know.”

“I’ll look into who at the school may have leaked that information.”

“I mean, it could have just been a classmate?” Danny pointed out. “It’s not like I’ve gone around shouting it to the heavens or anything, but, like, I haven’t kept it a secret how I ended up suddenly mid degree in the program.”

“It could have been,” Bruce acquiesced, “but it still bears looking into. Even if nothing comes of it, reminding the school of how they’re bound by FERPA hardly hurts, not with you returning to classes in a week.”

“Yeah that’s going to be… yeah,” Danny said with a sigh.

Jason leaned over to wrap his arm around Danny’s shoulder and brush a kiss against his temple.

“I’ve got to leave in a few days too,” Jazz said apologetically.

Danny nodded and leaned further into Jason. “You’ll be careful?”

“I will.”

“She will also have assistance in that matter,” Alfred said. The clink of the fresh plate of hot cross buns was a firm period on his declaration.

“That’s a sweet thought,” Jazz managed after a moment, “but I do live in a different state.”

“That is hardly an issue, Miss Jasmine. Master Richard will accompany you for the first week to simply make sure that everything is both secure and calm. When he is certain you will be well, he can make his way back easily enough,” Alfred explained. When Jazz opened her mouth to protest, Alfred held up a staying hand. “Miss Jasmine, I assure you it is not a hardship. You are family now and we very much look after our family. It would do all of us well to know that you are safe and sound.”

“Yes, family now,” Cass agreed as she made a grabbing motion at the plate until Tim passed her one of the buns.

“I, well…” A faint blush spread across Jazz’s cheeks. “I guess if it wouldn’t be a problem? And if you’re okay sleeping on the couch, Dick? We’ve only got one actual bedroom in the place, we use the other as an office for us both.”

“Hey, a couch isn’t the worst place I’ve slept by a long run,” Dick chirped. “But if you’re feeling guilty, I’ll taking getting to pick the tunes on the drive.”

“Don’t do it,” Jason said, an attempt to save Jazz that hell. “Seriously, not worth giving him that power. His music tastes are atrocious.”

Dick pouted. “They’re fabulous.”

“No, Jason’s right on this one,” Tim said.

“If Drake is agreeing with Todd, I am afraid that one has to accept there is some truth in the statement,” Damian interjected.

“Baby bat, no,” Dick whined.

From the look he aimed Dick, Damian was unmoved by the plea. “While you have a great many skills, Grayson—”

“Thank you.”

“—your taste in music, fashion, and other matters of culture is not one of those skills.”

“I’m wounded. You wounded me Damian, my baby bat, so cruel… so callous,” Dick said as he basically melted down into his chair.

“Keep up such antics and you will have a true wound to worry about, Grayson,” Damian said with a sniff.

Jason chuckled. “Ah, it’s not breakfast at the Manor without a threat of violence.”

Duke leaned around Tim to look at Jazz. “You still have time to run, Jazz, you don’t have to be part of this family. You can still get out.”

“Hum, I don’t know. Give me a Creep Stick—”

Multiple people looked at Danny and mouthed ‘creep stick?’.

“—and I think I can manage. Besides, none of the food has come back to life yet so it’s a better breakfast than I had most of my childhood.”

In the following silence, Bruce very carefully set his tablet down and folded his hands on top of it. “Food that came back to life?”

“Lab safety was just sort of an ignored suggestion in our childhood home,” Danny said.

“They kept samples in the fridge,” Jazz continued. “It sometimes had… unexpected results.”

“I don’t know, I think after the tenth time the hotdogs come ‘alive’ it’s an expected result,” Danny argued dryly.

“Good heavens,” Alfred declared softly. “And… the Dr. Fentons did nothing?”

Danny just shrugged. “I ate at school or out with my friends a lot.”

“No wonder you’re so pint sized,” Dick cooed.

“Hey!”

“You are, fish. Just a little guppy,” Jason teased. When Danny grumbled, Jason only pulled him closer.

“It really was just the way things were,” Jazz said, apparently still trying to soothe the table. “We know it’s not normal now, but that was just life at the time. It almost made more sense when there were actual ghosts around haunting Amity Park— and I don’t just mean Danny.”

“Boo.”

“Oh, yeah! You still haven’t shown us your ghost form,” Steph pointed out.

“But only if you’re up for it, dude, like… physically and emotionally,” Duke cut in quickly. “You don’t have to show us if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. I mean, it was strange showing Jason the first time— showing someone who knew me as Danny first,” Danny said, “but, like, there are times when I want to be in that form. I even get restless if I go too long without changing over.”

“Or sometimes he just needs something off the top shel-oof,” Jason winced as Danny elbowed him hard. “Hey, I’m just speaking the truth here.”

“You’re the one who used me instead of a step stool to hang cameras,” Danny said with a perfectly sweet smile. “But anyways, yeah, it’s no issue to show you all! You might want to cover your eyes though, it’s a bit bright.”

“Bright?” Dick asked, right as Danny transformed.

It served him right if he was left blinking away spots.

“Oh wow, your lights are totally different like this,” Duke said, leaning forward to peer at Danny.

Danny peered back. “Lights?”

“Oh, sorry, I’m a meta, I see… like, after images of stuff, kinda You’re all sorts of wild like this,” Duke said, waving a hand at Danny.

“And inverted,” Tim pointed out.

“Oh, yeah, it seems to be a thing with halfas? Like, I was wearing a white with black hazmat suit when I died and the inverted version was what my ghost form was in for ages. I’ve learned to make changes to it since, but it’s easier to stay close to that original form.”

“Easier, how?” Bruce asked. He was clearly brimming with questions now that Danny was talking about ghostly matters, but he was obviously trying not to ask everything at once.

Tim didn’t seem much better in his eagerness.

“Oh, hum, there’s this resistance? Think of it like trying to pull apart two things that have been glued together. If you have the right solvent or heat or tools you can do it, but you have to have that and you still risk damage if you don’t go carefully. So small changes are easier. Also what um, role I’m in changes things.”

“Fascinating,” Bruce murmured.

“Wait, hold up,” Dick interrupted before Bruce could ask a follow up. “If you’re a halfa and Jason is a halfa, does this mean that Jason has a ghost form too?”

Jason had to resist pushing his chair back as all eyes spun to him. Sure this was his family, but that single minded Bat focus was still intimidating.

Cass tilted her head. “Like Duke said, only if up for it.”

“It’s just, I haven’t… transformed yet,” Jason said. He tried for a casual shrug and felt like he had missed by a mile. “We had to wait for my core and everything to form first.”

“But you could transform now?” Tim asked curiously.

Jason glanced at Danny.

“I think you could,” Danny said. He was floating a little above his chair now. Casually, as if it was odd, he crossed his legs and leaned forward onto them. “Your core is strong. You aren’t having the power issues I did, but you aren’t trying to go through this when a teen either. Question mostly is if you’re ready to try.”

Did he want to try?

Jason didn’t know. Part of him wanted to. Part of him wanted to be able to experience this aspect of being that Danny experienced— to experience it with Danny. Another part of Jason was still afraid. It still felt like the final period on everything that had happened with the Joker all of those years ago.

But maybe it was time to put that period on it.

Maybe it was time to let go.

Maybe it was time to live.

“I’d… I’d like to try.” At least if the worst happened he’d have his family here with him. One of them would be able to talk him down from a panic if he came back as Robin.

“After breakfast, Master Jason,” Alfred said firmly.

“Yes Alfie.”

-

“So… how does this work?” Dick asked.

They were gathered in the gym— originally a room converted for Dick’s gymnastics and since expanded to have various workout gear— on the bright blue mats. Danny was still in his ghost form and drifted in a lazy circle around the group. Jason and Jazz paid him no mind, but Duke and Steph kept glancing at the ghost.

“Well, I mean, when I was a teen I had to say a catchphrase and everything, but I was a lot more in flux at that age so it was all harder. Now it’s much more like just… taking a breath and jumping.”

“Yeah, fish, I’m going to need you to be a little more specific than that,” Jason drawled, his attitude a thin veil over his nerves.

Danny stopped, hovered in front of Jason, and gave him a chaste kiss. “You’ll be okay,” he whispered.

Jason gave a terse little nod.

“Really,” Danny continued, “you’ll be okay. Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths.”

Breathing slowly through his nose, Jason focused on the feeling of Danny’s cold fingers against his cheeks.

“Now feel for your core. Think of what we saw with Frostbite— the fire, the ash, the movement of it. The light of it. Think about how warm it is there under your sternum. Even in this form, it’s part of you.”

Jason let out a breath slowly, feeling his chest fall with it. He focused on that warmth that nestled itself just under skin and bone. He thought about how it had looked in his hands, destructive but full of the promise of life.

“Keep a focus on your core, but think about how it feels to fly through the air as Red Hood. Think about that moment when you’re at the height of a swing and gravity doesn’t seem to matter. Now let go of all of that and fall. Your core will catch you. I’ll catch you.”

Jason gasped. His knees went out under him. He couldn’t breathe.

No…

He didn’t need to breathe. There simply wasn’t that demand on his body. Everything was just… calm. Static. Still. And he felt so warm. He hadn’t been this warm since before he had died only to wake up cold and alone in his own grave.

Jason looked down at his own hands. They were a dark ashen grey and when he flexed them, soot flaked off and scattered. The bat symbol— his bat symbol— glowed molten orange on his chest. He wasn’t in his Robin costume.

His knees felt weak for a second time, but he still didn’t fall. He looked up into Danny’s fanged grin. The other was holding him up by the elbows. Danny had caught him, just like he promised.

Danny's slow grin only uncurled further. “Hey there, hot stuff.”

Jason let his head fall back as he groaned at the joke.

“Nope, you’ve gotta deal with my puns because wow you really took the whole lava core thing to heart, didn’t you?” Danny said, looking Jason over. “Not that you aren’t totally rocking the look.”

“Really?” Jason asked. It was odd to hear his own voice come out modified from the black mask, deep but without the mechanical edge his Red Hood mask did. Steam escaped from the mask at the filters, swirling up into the still air.

“Payback for months of fish jokes,” Danny said and met the glowing red eyes without an ounce of shame. He drew his hands back along Jason’s arms from where he was holding onto his elbows. Jason could feel cold run along his arms and he held back a shiver. “You good to stand?”

Jason nodded. He felt fine now, weird, but fine. “Yeah, I am. Just… this is a lot different.”

“I know,” Danny said easily and a little sadly. He squeezed Jason’s wrists before letting go and drifting back. Without warning, he plunged his hand into his chest to find his Tucker™ phone.

“What the fuck,” Steph whispered from the sidelines.

“Hey, it’s an easy way not to lose things,” Danny said, “and you need a special phone to be able to handle stuff in the ghost zone so I just keep it on me.”

“In you.”

“Same diff,” Danny said with a shrug. He floated back enough to get all of Jason in the frame and snap a photo.

Jason took the phone carefully as it was passed over to him. That was him. He didn’t know what to think of it all yet, but that was him— as much him as Jason or Red Hood were him. This form certainly drew from his current Red Hood uniform, there was no question of that, not with the face mask and hood, but the coat was longer. The end of the coat ended mid thigh in drips and drops of bright red lava that turned to rick black ash and drifted away. The drips gave a clue to the make up of the rest of the coat, an oddly, roughly iridescent black that glowed bright on edges and seems. Inside the hood was almost blindingly bright.

“It’s definitely a look,” Tim said.

“I like it,” Steph interrupted. “You’re going to make the bad guys shit themselves.”

“Miss Stephenie,” Alfred sighed.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it!” Tim grumbled. “I guess I just didn’t expect it to be so… otherworldly after Danny’s form.”

Danny shrugged and tucked himself into Jason’s side. The coat sizzled where Danny touched it. “I’m really the odd ghost out. Most of them are much more dramatic and themed to their obsession or core.”

“I think it is impractical. There will be no ambushing anyone when you glow in such a manner,” Damian sniffed.

“Jason’s ghost form isn’t for taking on criminals, Damian,” Bruce said. Jason knew B was thinking it through though from the slightly constipated look on his face.

“I guess with that coat you could totally say that look is dripping,” Duke said and then reached over to high five Dick as Cass signed ‘fire’ dramatically.

“This is your fault,” Jason let Danny know, “the puns.”

“They were like this when I got here,” Danny said, repentantly. “Come on though, open up.”

“Open up?”

“Your mask,” Danny said, tapping on the hard black surface. “I bet you can retract it. Just think about it pulling back and tucking away.”

Jason frowned under the mask but Danny was right before, so he took a breath and tried to picture the mask collapsing on itself and pulling back behind his neck.

The air of the room felt cold on his face.

“Oh, wow, your hair’s inverted,” Dick said, “just like Danny thought it would be. That’s almost more wild than the outfit.”

Jason reached up self consciously to tug at what must now be a black lock only for Danny to catch his hand and kiss it lightly.

“There you are. It took me a long time, but I finally found you,” Danny said.

“Found me?”

Danny gave a little hum. “Yep. Found that ghost whose haunt I crashed into all that time ago. Who would have thought I’d go from being worried about how angry your haunt felt to actually getting to know you like this— getting to know all of you. Getting to see you.”

Danny drifted up just a little more, just enough to press their lips together into a kiss. Icy cold met magma hot and Jason closed his eyes to sounds of cat calls and ‘steamy’. His siblings might be damn annoying, but they weren’t wrong, the kiss was literally steaming.

“Careful or you’ll be smoked salmon before you know it, fish.”

“I don’t know, I think I’d put up with it for you. You know why? Because I lava you,” Danny said with a cackle of laughter.

Jason rolled his eyes, but pulled Danny into another kiss. He had better get used to the puns, he supposed, but somehow he thought he would manage. He thought he would manage because he was no longer just a dead boy, because he had his family around him supporting him, because he also loved Danny. They had not only their afterlives, but their whole lives ahead of them.

And Jason… Jason was determined to live.

---

AN: And here we are... done! I hope you all enjoyed every moment of this fish's adventure, the love he found, and the life he helped give back! It was a journey for sure, and it took me longer than I expected, but I am ever so grateful for you all being along for it! I'll update ao3 tomorrow!

Stay delightful, darlings!

#the end #dp x dc #dead on main #like betta fish do

[plussizeficchick]

Like That | Sleazy Alpha!Kirishima x Chubby!Reader

Warnings: Dubcon(blackmailing)Cunnilingus, P in V, breeding kink

Summary; Reader’s been keeping a secret from her fellow classmates, except Kirishima’s figured it out. You know what they say, when life gives you lemons

“-gonna be soo cute! Just you, hey! Are you even listening to me?!” Kirishima mentally rolls his eyes before turning to face the omega that was talking his ear off. “Sorry, what was that?” He asked. He had a way of disarming people, big glassy eyes, a cute little pout and the person is putty in his hands.

The omega chirps, flustered by the look he gives her before batting her eyelashes, the sight quite literally making Kirishima want to throw up. She giggles and the noise grates on his ears. “I said that I’m excited for the party after you guys win the game. My outfit’s going to be really cute.” She winks and Kirishima knows what she’s implying.

She thinks that by the end of the night she’ll get in his pants but he knows better. He has only one omega on his mind, one that he knows was made for him specifically.

You thought you’d hidden it well, and if he wasn’t a prime alpha you may have even gotten away with it, but his senses were stronger than the average one and your scent made his mouth water.

He knew why you presented yourself as beta, he honestly couldn’t fault you. Prime omegas were extremely rare, so with you being the only one on campus, it would’ve caused quite a stir.

That was the main reason he was even talking to this girl. He’d seen you around her and he was hoping to get an in to talk to you. “Sounds nice, you bringing any friends?” She goes on to list a bunch of names that he doesn’t care to know, only recognizing his heart skipping a beat at the mention of your name. Jackpot.

— —

This was not your kind of party. It was overly crowded, way too many people to fit inside the enclosed space, but that wasn’t your main focus. You were on a mission.

Your mission: Avoid Eijiro Kirishima.

He made you extremely nervous. His predatory gaze always somehow on you, as if he’s studying you. As if he knows something.

You have a feeling he knows what you really are, his senses as a prime alpha more heightened, so you’d understand if he knew.

But that was just all the more reason to avoid him.

You thought you were doing pretty well, trying your best to enjoy your university’s big win, but then you come to see Kirishima standing in the far corner of the room, nursing a drink with a girl by his side, failing miserably at flirting.

His eyes are everywhere but her, and he’s barely giving her a response. And if that’s not the worst of it, as soon as he catches sight of you in the tight bodycon dress you have on, he’s making a beeline towards you, cutting her off mid sentence. You turn to leave, hoping that the sea of bodies will help him lose track of you. You lose faith however, when you feel his warm, calloused hands grip your arm, turning you to face him.

“Hey, pretty girl. I was hoping to see you here.” He murmurs softly in your ear. You feel a shiver run down your spine at the close proximity. You quirk a brow, “Oh really? And to what do I owe the pleasure?” You answer sarcastically.

Kirishima takes a moment to look you up and down, drinking in the sight of your dress hugging your curves deliciously, the thought of finally getting to peel away the small piece of fabric enough to get him hard. “I was thinking that since we won the championships, maybe you’d want to give me a little reward.” He says, pushing a bit of your hair behind your ear. “I mean, wouldn’t it be a real tragedy if all these alphas were to somehow find out you were a prime omega?” He smirks at the shock that etches onto your face.

He wouldn’t.

“You wouldn’t.” You practically hiss. He just gives you a smug grin, hands up in mock surrender before leaning directly into your face, “I’m not saying I would. I’m just saying it’d be a real shame if word got around and no one could protect you if something were to happen.” You frown at what he was implying, but what other choice do you have? If you didn’t, alphas were going to salivate anytime you crossed paths and omegas would feel threatened, especially those mated. And he knew that. “What do you say, omega? Wanna get out of here?” He grins, his sharp teeth glinting in the light.

He would.

— —

As soon as Kirishima got you into his room, he was all over you. The scent blockers that you thought you’d so strategically hidden were ripped off without hesitation, Kirishima burrowing his nose right into your scent gland. He groans at the smell, a mix of honey and cinnamon.

He licks at your scent gland, releasing pheromones that will hopefully push you into heat.

He pulls away slightly to get a good look at you, tweaking your nipples through your top and he notices the slight rubbing in your thighs. You were just too cute.

He leans into you, nipping at your neck. “Aw, what’s wrong baby? Need me? Need your big, strong alpha to make it better, hm? Talk to me.” You whine at his words, the feel of his teeth grazing your scent gland about to send you into a frenzy. When did it get so hot? “Please, Eiji.” You practically beg, but that’s not enough for Kirishima, no. He wants you to need him.

He tsks and gives a slight shake of his head before pulling away from you slightly. You whine at the loss of body heat but Kirishima is quick to shut that down with a searing kiss, tongue swirling with yours before sucking and nipping at your bottom lip. “You need me, baby. Know you do. Jus’ wanna hear you say it.” He whispers into your mouth.

How did you end up like this? He had practically blackmailed you, threatened to expose your secret and throw you into the lion’s den, yet you’re seriously aching to get on your knees for him. Ready to give him anything he wants.

“Need you, Eiji. Need you so fucking bad.” You mewl into his neck, sucking hickies into his scent gland. Kirishima groans at your neediness, ready to devour you completely. “Yeah?” He asks, and you nod vigorously. You don’t know why, but you feel the heat intensifying. And the waves of arousal feel much more profound than usual.

Kirishima seems to notice your confusion, cock stirring in his jeans. You really have no idea how this works do you? “What’s wrong, babe?” He asks you with faux concern. “Heat about to break?” He grins wolfishly.

You feel your stomach fall to your ass.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” He says, peeling away at his clothes. “Well, I’ll try anyway.” He chuckles.

The sight of his rock hard abs and muscles has your panties soaking and the way he’s looking at you, like you're a cute, chunky bunny ready to be eaten has your heart skipping beats.

“Well?” Kirishima gestures to your clothes, wanting more than anything to rip them off your body. “Not gonna make me wait, are you?” He asks, stroking the length of his cock. You immediately shimmy out of your clothes, your eyes trained on the motion of his hand. He has the prettiest dick you think you’ve ever seen. It’s heavy, the tip is a nice shade of pink, and it’s drooling pre and you want nothing more than to feel the weight of it against your tongue, but it seems like Kiri has a different idea.

“Next time, baby. Right now,” He hoists you up as if you weigh nothing, and honestly, you probably don’t to him, and he unceremoniously drops you on his bed. His hands find purchase on your thighs, it being one of his favorite things about you. “I need to taste you. You gonna let me, hm? Gonna let me make you cum for me?” He mumbles into the skin, and you know you're done for.

“Please, Eiji. Please make me cum.” You beg, tears welling up in your eyes. The sight has Kirishima groaning. He wants to ruin you.

He spreads your pussy lips apart, running a finger along your slick before sucking the finger into his mouth, moaning at the taste. That only seems to encourage him to drink right from the source. Before you know it, he’s pushing your thighs to your chest and is sucking your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking over the bud in rhythmic strokes. You gasp at the feeling, nobody ever eating you out with such vigor before. He’s moaning into your cunt, lapping up as much of your juices as he can but it’s just not enough! He needs more.

He reaches one hand down and rubs it through your slick before pressing a finger inside. You moan, your cunt clenching around the digit while trying to ignore the embarrassing shlick! sound your cunt is making.

It doesn’t take long before Kirishima pulls an orgasm from you and you barely have time to recover before the second one rips through you.

You didn’t even realize he’d come up until you felt his lips against yours and the head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

You gasp as he stuffs his full length in one go, the tip rubbing against your g-spot deliciously with every snap of his hips.

It feels so good, almost too good, the way he’s grinding his pubic bone against you, and when he rubs your clit in tandem with his thrusts, you know you’re a goner.

You’re gushing around his cock, a lewd squelch sound being made every time his hips snap into yours and you’re barely able to form a sentence. “Feel good, baby? Fuck, your pussy feels s’good. S’good to me, baby. So. Fucking Good. Gonna knot you. Fill you up with my pups. Y’want that, baby? Say “yes, daddy.”” Emphasizing his words with each vicious thrust.

He’s fucking into you with vigor, chasing after his own orgasm and at the same time you both reach your climax, your cunt spasming around his pulsing cock as he shoots load, after load into your abused cunt. He’s pawing at your body, the feeling of the soft, doughy flesh somehow intensifying his orgasm.

You cry out, your plush stomach flexing as you feel all your muscles going taut as your orgasm washes over you. Kirishima works you both through it, laying sweet kisses along your neck and chest before pressing one to your lips and cheek as you both come down from your high. You giggle at his softness, knowing he couldn’t keep the act up for much longer.

“Kiriii.” You whine as he blows raspberries into your neck. “(Y/NNNNN).” He mocks back, before pressing more kisses to your face. “We need to shower.” You pout, the sight making him fall deeper in love with you. He sighs, snuggling further into you, “But whyyy, we’re just gonna do it all over again and you smell like me.” He pouts back and neither one of you can help but bust out laughing. “Alright, alright. I’ll get the bath started. You want cookies?” “You have my favorites?” You ask, perking up at the sound of your favorite snack. “Don’t I always?” He smirks. He is your alpha after all.

— —

Taglist: @xogabbiexo @kinq-sleazee @dabilovesme @sintiva @blkchxrryblyss @tenyaiidasslut @luna-indigoduh @bookwormsenpai @bl--ankhaeji @thicksimpx @namjoonswifeyy @nasty-quillz @haikyutiehoe @musicisme333 @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @celi-xxmoon

#x chubby reader #chubby reader #kirishima x chubby reader #bnha x chubby reader #anime x chubby reader #mha x chubby reader #x black!reader #kirishima x black reader #bnha x black reader #x black reader #kirishima x reader #anime x reader #eijiro kirishima x chubby reader #eijiro kirishima x black reader #x reader

[ham-st4r]

𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓪 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓹𝓽. 6 - 𝓛. 𝓗𝓮𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓷𝓰

📞Pairing: heeseung + fem reader!

Warnings: smut, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, pet names, mature jokes, cursing.

Genre: PSO (phone sex operator) heeseung

Number of words: 1,900k

Find your way around!

You called heeseung the next day at that same time, FaceTiming him after he got off work and you were out of school. You both talked and talked for hours, realizing how much you enjoyed just casually chatting with one another after your days had ended, and it soon became a habit.

Calling every other day turned into every day, and months passed by. Heeseung quickly became your best and only friend. Not only did he listen to you attentively and take genuine interest in you, but he also took care of you in a way that no one else had.

He’d guide you to pleasure and instruct you on how to touch yourself in all the right places until you were creaming around your fingers coming undone for him night after night.

At first, you were embarrassed that you were up until the morning up to no good till you found a phone sex website all those months ago, but now, as you talk with heeseung over the phone, you are so glad that you did cause you actually liked him and his company it was rare to meet good people online, but he was your diamond in the rough so to speak.

The only problem was that you couldn’t really take things further. You were miles away from him, and now that you’d be studying abroad, you would be even further away from him.

You didn’t quite know how to tell him, especially cause he was talking about flying to meet you so much recently, and the gesture was so sweet. The fact he would fly just to meet you was unfathomable in itself, but unfortunately, you’d have to turn him down.

“So I was thinking of coming next month if you’re open to that,” he says, looking at you through the phone screen. Your conversations were far more casual now. You both comfortably interacted and talked about anything or nothing at all, sometimes just enjoying one another’s presence or even sharing playlists. Some nights, he’d even set up his phone so you could watch him game. So, needless to say, in the months that have passed, you guys have grown close, and the only logical next step would be meeting up.

“Hee-“ he doesn’t let you finish before he goes into full-blown detail about coming to meet you. Truthfully, he didn’t want to let you speak cause he was afraid of you potentially saying no, so he tried his best to convince you before you gave him a solid answer.

“Look, this is all the money I saved.” he reaches into his drawer, holding up a stack of cash, and your eyes bulge at the amount he made all that from phone sex and a part-time job. “Tickets are cheaper around this time of year, too, so that helps. I’ve already been looking at places to go and sights to see, but I think it’ll be even better if you show me some of your favorite places to visit as well.” he smiles, and your heart fills with warmth from his consideration towards you. “Also,” he raises a sneaky brow, a small pink box coming into the frame. “Got you a little something,” he held out the box in front of the camera, and you gasped. It had to be some type of jewelry. You just hoped he didn’t spend too much; you were happy just spending time talking with him. You didn’t need a gift.

“Hee” you say softly looking over the box. “You didn’t have to meeting. You would be enough of a present.”

“Why thank you,” he says shyly and places the box down. “But I want to. You deserve a present for being my best friend, but maybe I could be your present, and you could unwrap me if you know what I mean,” he winks playfully.

“You’re so stupid,” you say endearingly. “I wish I could hug you right now,” he chuckles softly, wishing for the same exact thing.

“Me too, my angel, so what do you say? How about next month?” He asked, feeling a bit more confident with what your answer would be now that he showed you he was in a position to actually meet you.

You bit your lip, contemplating if you should tell him or not. You were about to cause if you didn’t, that would be unfair to him, but his eyes looked so hopeful that you couldn’t, so you lied. “Yeah next month” you whisper and he grins showing you that beautiful white smile.

“Next month,” he repeated while smiling from ear to ear. “Can’t wait to see you and give you your gift. I know you’ll love it.”

“I’ll love anything you get for me, hee,” you swoon.

“I know, my angel,” he hums. “I’m already thinking about how to spend our night together.”

“Have you now?” You quirk your brow.

“Yes, mam.” he reclined against his bed frame, his biceps on display thanks to his sleeveless shirt, and he looked so rideable at that moment.

“What are we gonna do?” You change the angle of your camera lying on your stomach, and he can see your butt while you kick your feet playfully.

He bites his lip at the sight running a palm over his length. “There’s a little park not far from you, a fancy restaurant that I had to book months in advance, and then I was thinking maybe you’d take me back to your place and show me around, yeah? Specifically, your bed.” his voice drops an octave lower, and it reminds you of the first night you called him. A tingle shoots through your core, your stomach doing the thing as he smiles at you.

“That sounds nice,” you mutter, trying to keep your cool, but you can’t when it’s him.

“That sounds good to you, angel?”

“Yes,” you answer again, a bit more quietly than before, and you feel just as timid as the first time you called him.

“Aww, don’t get all shy on me now. Weren’t you just spread open for me last night, fingers buried deep in your wet pussy while you begged for me to fuck you” he smirks and laughs at your embarrassment as you move out of the frame. “Now say it again, be a good girl,” he encourages, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Yes,” you say a little louder, but not pleasing enough for him.

“Louder,” he baits you.

“Yes,” your voice shakes, and your face heats up with embarrassment.

“Louder for me, angel, like you were last night,” he groans, his hand pressing on the tent that began to form underneath his pants.

“Yes, heeseung,” you moan, and it sounds so pleasing to his ears.

“Perfect.” You hear his pants unzip, and your eyes widen. “Don’t act surprised. I know you’re wet too, angel” He positions his camera further away so you can see between his legs clearly as he shifts out of his clothing on his lower half freeing his stiff veiny cock. “Fuck” he sighs in relief, running his palm over his cock. “Show me we’ve done this so many times, baby. It’s just me and you,” he whispers.

He’s right. You have done this often, but it didn’t take away any of your shyness while baring yourself to him on camera. The way he spoke to you made you feel like you had all the confidence in the world as you quickly flipped over on the bed, revealing your bottom half to him.

You hear a gasp from his end, and just the sight of between your legs made his eyes roll back in his head. “Now slip those cute little panties to the side and show me what only I get to see,” he grunts, gripping his base and squeezing tightly.

You timidly do as he says, and embarrassingly enough, there’s a thick string of arousal connected to your panties as you push them aside, showing him your tight hole.

“Angel, what are we gonna do with you? If my voice makes you this wet imagine if I was there whispering sweet nothings in your ear, rubbing your clit, and fucking your soaked pussy with this dick” he starts to stroke himself, slowly building up to the pleasure.

You whine helplessly, your hole squeezing so tightly around nothing as you circle your throbbing clit. “Heeseung,” you moan as your other hand busies itself inside your cunt, two dainty fingers filling your little pussy.

“That’s all you’d be able to say is my name after I finish with you,” he laughs breathily, tugging on his long dick until he reaches his tip rubbing his palm in fast circles as precum bubbles on the head. “I’d fuck you so good. The only thing you remember is my dick and my name stuff you so full you can’t even think straight, and the only thing you’ll want when I’m done is for me to do it all over again.”

“Yes, hee” You slip your finger as deep as they can go working fast circles on your overly sensitive clit, and it’s not long before you cum.

“Your pussy looks so good,” he groans. “Bet it’d look even better with my dick shoved deep in it. You’d like that, right angel?”

“Fuck yes, want nothing more than your thick cock filling my insides,” You moan lewdly, losing yourself in bliss as you imagine him doing any and everything to your touch-starved body. “Want to feel your cum inside me? Need you stuffing me full heeseung”

“God, you’re so fucking naughty sometimes” he fondles his balls a little, adding to the already mind-numbing pleasure. “You can have that baby. Every single last inch of my dick belongs to you. Id fill you up for being such a good girl, give you round after round of my warm cum breed your pussy till it’s leaking out of you for days.”

“Yes, need it so bad hee want to feel your cum in me,” you say breathlessly, your walls clenching around your fingers tightly as you came.

Your words made him reach his limit. The idea of filling you with his cum would literally be fulfilling one of his biggest fantasies.

“Fuck I’ll give it to you, ugh,” he whines. “I’m cumming” he announced, rubbing his dick faster until hot white spurts shot out from the tip and coated his tensing stomach.

“Me too” The sight of his face twisted in pleasure, his whiny moans and the amount of cum he spilled for you is what brought you to your second orgasm, rubbing your clit so fast until you were creaming and clenching your digits, wishing it was his cock instead. “Fuck yes,” you sigh, eyes squeezing shut while your orgasm takes over your body, your legs shaking with bliss as he rubs himself through his high, watching the way your body reacts to the pleasure.

Your breaths are heavy, and your fingers slip out of your hole, creamy white following after, and the sight makes heeseung’s cock twitch as he bites his lip. “Wish I could lick you clean, angel fuck” he let go of his soft cock, eyes glazed over with arousal and exhaustion.

“In a month from now,” You giggle softly and huff out a tired breath.

“Yeah, in a month from now,” he smirked, and he could hardly wait.

Thank you for reading. Please reblog and leave feedback! - 🐹

Permanent taglist @hee-pster @hoyeonheeseung @furious-eagle @heehoonsnemo

Just a call away taglist 🔖 @heeseungshim @rayofsunshineeee @fakeuwus @heesquared @skzenhalove @wildflowermooon

#heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung #enhypen heeseung smut #heeseung #lee heeseung smut #enhypen #lee heeseung #smut

[violetrainbow412-blog]

hii, I wish to request a Willy Wonka x reader 😭🙏 where reader doesn’t like chocolate at all because it’s too cloying, so Wonka tries to make the right candy (or chocolate) to give it to the reader at Christmas Eve (he wanted to gave reader a small gift before Christmas day, like a form of confessing his feelings to the reader). And reader also prepares a small gift to Wonka bc they also want to confess their feelings to him

Reader can be gender neutral, or however you want

English isn’t my first language so sorry any grammar mistakes, also sorry if I didn’t explain myself well

have a good day and thanks for reading 😭🫶💐

The Bittersweet Gift of Love [W. W]

Willy Wonka x gn!reader

word count: 1.8k

note: don't worry! English is not my first language either. I have to admit that writing with neutral readers is always a challenge for me because I translate my texts directly, but I think this time it's a decent thing. I hope you like it!!

taglist: @dyieying @reallysparklychaos [Timothée masterlist]

What could a chocolatier give to a person who didn't like chocolate? That was the question Willy had been asking himself for the past few weeks.

You hadn't specifically said that you didn't like chocolate, rather it was a matter of not liking the excessively sweet or sticky taste that some had. That is, most of the chocolates he made.

“Maybe it's just that you haven't found the right flavor,” he had told you once, while the two of you were talking.

And he was quite convinced of that, even thinking that if he managed to make something special for you maybe he would earn some affection from you. It would be as if he gave you a certain part of himself, so that you could make it yours.

So it was that Wonka, after reflecting a lot, decided to try all kinds of combinations until he found one good enough to satisfy you. Christmas was approaching and he believed that the occasion would be perfect not only to give you the present, but also to take an important step for which he had not yet had the courage: he wanted to confess his feelings for you.

The man didn't know much about love, however, he knew that he liked you a lot and he wanted you to know it. It was just that he was pretty nervous about it and he hoped everything would turn out as perfect as possible, after all, you deserved it.

Christmas Eve came when he was least expecting it and then it was time to dress in shades of green and red to attend the party that the Smith family would throw, as a thank-you to everyone after Dorothy had heard what the entire group did for help Noodle when she needed it most.

Willy put a lot of effort into buying, with some of the few coins he had left, a cute outfit appropriate to the occasion that he combined with his characteristic coat. When he was in front of the library door he felt the little purple box in his hands extremely heavy and he thought it would be a better idea to put it in his pocket, or else you would realize ahead of time the surprise he had for you.

“Mr. Wonka,” Dorothy greeted, as she opened the door “Come in, come in. It's freezing outside”

“Good night, Mrs. Smith,” he murmured cordially, removing his hat and placing it on a rack in the entryway. Apparently he was the last to arrive, since everyone else was already talking happily in the room.

Of course his eyes went directly to you, who was wearing a green sweater that highlighted your beautiful skin tone and you already had a huge smile on your pink lips from the cold.

“It's good to see you, Mr. Wonka,” said Abacus, being the first to speak “Sit over here.”

He smiled internally at the good fortune that the place the man had left him was right next to you and when you gave him a look, he felt himself blush.

“Hi,” he murmured shyly.

"Hello! I'm so glad you could come."

“I would never miss it,” he responded smilingly. His knees collided with yours and suddenly your warmth seemed to invade him as well, perhaps because of the closeness, but also because of the overflowing love he felt for you “How are you?”

With this question you began a pleasant and private conversation, which developed between close whispers and giggles that made him increasingly nervous. The others didn't mind too much that you didn't participate in the general talks, as they knew that certain unresolved matters probably needed time.

You ate the delicious dinner that the family had prepared, you drank punch, you sang some Christmas carols and when the night had advanced enough you returned to your previous place, although now with fewer people around.

“This is so nice, I love Christmas. The atmosphere is always so homely and warm” you said, with your eyes resting on the simple tree that adorned the room.

It was almost midnight and the others were in the kitchen sorting through some of the cookies that Noodle had put there an hour ago, which only left you and the chocolatier in the living room.

“I guess I believe you, your eyes are literally shining now,” he said happily. He felt like sliding his hand into yours and this time, steeling himself, he didn't hold back. You flinched slightly when you felt that.

“What are you doing?”

“I have something for you,” he breathed, feeling strangely excited by what he was about to do “It's a gift.”

“Oh, Willy,” you responded, a bit incredulously, as you bent down to grab something from your bag on the floor. “I have something for you, too.”

He chuckled when he saw the box lined with bright red and a purple bow decorating it, since it was a pleasant coincidence that you had also prepared something for him.

“But don't tell anyone, because he didn't bring gifts for the others,” you added, quietly, and then he helped you up, still holding onto your hand.

"Come with me"

He led you to an empty room and he closed the door behind you, hoping he only needed enough minutes to not raise suspicions among the rest of the guests. You were nervously holding the gift, with both hands now that he had let go of you.

“Okay, listen. I wanted to do something special for you today,” he began to explain, as he pulled the box out of his pocket. “And I also added, uh… a note. You don't have to read it now or anything, but it says something in it that I want you to know."

“You're starting to scare me,” you stammered, obviously nervous. Willy was going to ask what you meant until he saw you take a small envelope out of your pocket, which you placed on the red paper. “Because I have the same thing for you.”

He stumbled a little at the second coincidence of the night and he wondered what your note could be about. He knew that he had written a little poem confessing how he felt about you, but... what if you were just wishing him a Merry Christmas? He was going to look like a complete fool.

“You can read mine in a more… private place if you feel comfortable. Maybe alone,” he suggested, though he knew it was more for his comfort than yours.

“Huh, how about we just open the gifts and leave the notes for later? I wouldn't want you to read mine now either” you murmured, just as shy as him.

Willy agreed and you extended your gift in his direction, hinting that he would be the first to open. He undid the bow, carefully, and then opened the box, revealing a beautiful scarf.

“Wow, I…”

"Do you like it? I made it myself”

“I don't believe you,” he said immediately, looking even more surprised. “It's beautiful, I really love it. Thank you so much"

He wasted no time and placed the garment around his neck. Curiously, it matched the rest of his outfit.

"It looks pretty"

“Mine is also a gift made by me. Feel free to tell me if you don’t like it, I… I’ll understand, okay?” you looked a little confused at that and then he took out the piece of chocolate, carefully placed inside the box “I know you don't like chocolate, but I don't think anyone should live without consuming such a great delicacy. So I made you this, because it doesn't have those things that you don't like. It's... different, but I hope you like it”

With some shyness he offered you the sweet and you put it in your mouth, under his watchful eye during the process. You tasted what he had offered you: it was a little bitter, but not in that way that makes your head hurt or leaves a bad taste on your palate, but with just the right touch. It was firm and didn't melt in your mouth, but decent enough to chew on. And finally, it had a touch of something indecipherable to you, but that gave it a certain exotic flavor that was pleasant to your senses.

He, without knowing everything you were experiencing, kept looking at you because he wanted to analyze your reaction to know what you really thought, and luckily your reaction showed agreement with what your chocolate lips said:

“It is the best chocolate I have ever tasted”

Willy felt that like the greatest compliment in the world and he couldn't help a smile crossing his face, satisfied with himself for having achieved his goal, but above all for seeing the happy expression on your face.

“You will never have to eat chocolates you don't like again, I have a jar full of these just for you. They will even bear your name."

It was inevitable not to take a step towards him to hug him and the boy, although at first he seemed surprised, soon responded to you.

“No one had ever done anything like this for me. I appreciate it a lot"

“Well, it's my Christmas gift. I wanted it to be something special,” he confessed, feeling his heart beating in time with yours “Merry Christmas, Y/N”

“Merry Christmas, Willy,” you said. The note in his hand felt extremely heavy and he was eager to read it, but he knew he would have to wait a while.

Suddenly you heard Noodle calling your names and you got out of there before anyone else noticed your absence, which worked because the girl was walking around the hallway when you were closing the door.

“It's going to be midnight, come here,” she said and you obeyed.

Dorothy revealed that she had a small present for each person and you began to look under the tree, eager to find out what would be in those little boxes. It wasn't something very ostentatious, but you were grateful anyway.

So, when no one was looking, you ran to the bathroom to finally read whatever he had written to you, hoping it wasn't as embarrassing as the confession you had made. You were stunned to learn the content and for a moment you feared you were dreaming, but you weren't.

When you left you knew well what your intentions were and your heart stopped for a moment when you noticed that Willy was nowhere to be seen, until Lottie told you that she had seen him heading to the kitchen. You rushed over and when you opened the door you noticed that he was about to do the same, with a bright expression on his face.

A second later he had already pulled you inside and without saying another word, he kissed you.

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