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kombuuuu · 10 months

Note

Can I request Miles 42 bullies you at school and is always bothering you but he gets mad and tries to fight someone else who is bullying you because he’s the only one who can be mean to you😩😩‼️

Deflecting.

Earth42!Miles x Fem!Reader

“I would get your hands off her if I were you, homeboy.”

This one is kiiiinda violent, not by Miles mostly be warned C:

PART TWO !!

such a cute wife (throw me on an island to live in my delusions)

You were quiet, silent most days. Not stepping out of the very thick circle you’d made for yourself consisting of just you.

And yet, still.

Still, the mere thought of keeping to yourself as a permanent transfer student would make even the most daft of people scoff.

You weren’t anything special, you were void of attention, and happy that way. Acted appropriately and left anger at the door. Had nothing and no one to complain to, so why make problems for yourself?

You’re entire life was just floating along your schooling and waiting patiently for the day you left. Even if you were the rare case of “Got transferred half way through the year because the school saw potential!” girl, you’d just wanted to be left to yourself.

But even the premise of that seemed almost impossible now.

Because ever since you were pushed by some rushing kid straight into Miles Morales, tripping him over with you. Him and his asshole friends had made it their life mission to bother you.

“The cute new girl?”

“Yeah, the one that—,” The first boy glanced at Miles. “,—tripped on.”

“Oooh, shit—, She’s fucked.” The other man whispered back, laughing under his breath. You could feel his taunting stare at the back of your head, and when you checked your peripherals, Miles was sending a sickening glare your way.

You sighed.

—

The ache in your head was probably the only thing keeping you awake.

The day dragging longer than usual had you right about ready to get home and knock yourself out within a minute of being in your bed. Your hand slowly dragged down your face, taking a deep breath and stuffing your jacket somewhere in your locker. The heat of the school mingling with the temperatures the Summer was providing and then adding on the rain from the prior day? You cursed Brooklyn and its humidity. Reaching to close your locker, you finally fit the jacket in the already cramped space. A little piece of the fabric poked out, and you pushed it in while simultaneously trying to keep everything else in too. Pulling a face before you finally managed to get it shut, and slip your finger out before it can get trapped. You turned the key into the dumb metal and scowled at it before pocketing the key and turning to leave.

Being so engrossed in your feud with the locker, you had failed to realise the very man who’d given you this headache, leering over your frame. Turning straight into his chest and reacting in a pained groan, gripping your forehead in displeasure and glaring up at whomever was standing so close to you.

Which happened to be Miles Morales. Staring down at you with cold, dulled eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” The simmering anger in your voice was made known, and also promptly ignored. He tilted his head down at you, braids shifting with the movement, his expression barely changing. If only he had a conscience. Then maybe you could read his expression, the emotions on his face —, but in this universe? The thought seemed laughable.

He stepped forward, sending you staggering closer against your locker.

“Back off—,” You’re voice shook a little as you swore. Dropping his eyelids into a glare, he spoke, “You keep talkin’ to me like that, and we gon’ have a problem.”

“You keep creeping up on me like a fuckin’—,”

“Like a what?” Miles’s bored, taunting voice grated against your eardrums.

You let out a shaky breath, chest heaving, and clenched your jaw. Shaking out the annoyance in your bones, you kept your calm.

“Don’t get shy on me now.”

A surge of anger rose through you, before you willed it away.

He was antagonising you.

You tried not to instigate him. If you didn’t encourage it, maybe he’d go away.

“Never mind. Whatever, Why—,”

“Miles, my man.” A different man clapped him on the shoulder, giving you the chance to step back and away from him. The other man was tall and lanky, spindly in the way where he looked out of place for a high school. His blue eyes caught sight of you, smirk contorting the bridge of his nose and baring his teeth. “Fuck you doin’ with this thing?”

“What d’you want.” Miles diverted attention from you quick, his companion not getting the hint.

“Fuck, nevermind man,” The man sent a sleezy smile at you, looking you up and down slowly, a short whistle under his breath.

“Shut the fuck up, James.”

You glared are the taller man, something like bile clawing at your throat. The way he was talking about you was sickening, nothing more than a bothersome rodent.

Miles glanced at you, raising a brow, he wanted to see how long it would take before you’d finally fight back. Through the months you’d been at this school, not once had you actually lost your nerve.

On worse days, like this one, you gave him attitude. Snapping at him the moment he showed up, knowing if you didn’t, he’d take the chance too first. He looked forward to those days, where you would engage him. It sent some sick thrill through him. Watching the way your eyes unfocused, urging yourself not to roll them. How your composure surely chipped but never cracked, fingernails digging prints of a fine line when dug into your palms.

He watched your breathing stutter and counted your breaths with you, he’d basically memorised the pattern.

10 beats in, hold for 8, and 12 beats out.

Though, this was only on a good (bad?) day. Other days you just stood and took it. Letting him say whatever he wanted to you, talk shit right to your face. Spread rumours without repercussions and mess with you just because he had the urge.

And just like always. Through the heat of Summer and the full ache in your head, you managed to do nothing.

Just stand and stare as James acted like you were less to a piece of meat.

Miles scowled, dropping his shoulder and causing the man to fall from leaning on him. “Omf— Hey! What the fuck, dude.”

“Let’s go.”

James scoffed, rolling his eyes but following behind nonetheless.

“Miles, what was that shit about?”

“None of your fucking business, homeboy.”

Their voices faded as they walked away, the white noise of chattering people swallowing the scraping of James’s voice.

You wondered what Miles had really wanted this time, as he hadn’t gotten the chance to say anything with James showing up. You hate to thank him, but god. You might’ve lost your mind.

—

Four months in and you were losing your mind. Miles hadn’t stopped, neither had his determination. He seemed so eager to piss you off and do nothing but stare coldly as you composed yourself every time.

Just as that thought brimmed in your head, something kicked out in front of you, sending you flat on your stomach. Hands pressed into the hardwood of the gym below. You groaned, knees being knocked straight to the ground, landing with your arms outstretched in front of you. At least it wasn’t your face.

A voice was heard behind you and you froze, unsure what to do at that moment.

“Get up, [Name].”

James.

“Yeah, I’m—“ You shuffled back onto your feet. Standing up cautiously and checking your uniform was in place.

“Shut the fuck up.” He interrupted you, and you turned around slowly to face him. “Ever since I made it clear how little you were fucking worth, that dipshit Miles has been a fuckin’ dog to me.” He spat at you, the anger rising in his voice, he gripped the polo shirt you wore, dragging your limp upper half closer to his.

You shivered at his breath on your face, wanting to gag.

“Sorry.”

“You’re a fucking freak—.” His group of even more childish people were standing behind him like some sort of team work movement.

“Please let go.”

“I’ll fucking gut you. I needed that motherfucker—,” “Woah.” “,—He’s lucky I don’t beat his ass for ditching me.” Seems like attachment issues. “And you too, cunt. I’ll end your fucking life.”

He pulled you ever closer, using his height to intimidate you, six foot four of an angry man standing over you, no thanks.

A whistle was heard from the main room of the Gym, prompting James to let go of you.

“You’re lucky you’re a looker, call it pretty privilege.”

“..”

“Next time I’ll fucking kill you.”

You dropped from where you had been dragged onto your toes, stumbling a little as James’s group snickered when they walked past, bumping your shoulder and wolf whistling.

—

The lesson ended, and you rushed to get out of there. Making your way to the locker room, and being the first in there, also the first to leave. Changing from your sports uniform and rushing out of the Gym.

You kept looking over your shoulder, Knowing that James wasn’t lying. He probably would kill you, or, objectively worse.

You tripped over your feet before righting yourself again. People around sent curious looks to you which you ignored easily.

Getting to the front of the school, glass double doors shut with a “locked” sign on it, you continued to shoulder forward. Ignoring the shout of the office lady, you pushed against the metal bar and opened the door. You’d already known about the doors being unlocked constantly, having seen many times teachers trying to check no one was watching before slyly slipping out. So when the door opened for you with no trouble, you breathed out quick, and booked it.

You praised yourself for the amount of cardio you could do, the school was three stories for goodness sake, the amount of stairs you needed to climb was insane.

You slid to the side, dodging the occasional pedestrian and making it to the main gate, another shout was heard from the front of the school and you slipped out the gate just as it opened for another teacher, thanking them as you passed.

“Thank you!” You shouted as you ran.

“You’re welcome?— Oh..”

“Kid, Get back here!”

The office lady watched you hit the end of the street and turn, no longer in her sight. She threw her hands in the air and sighed.

“I’m going to get fired.”

“No, Marlene. I’ll cover you.”

“Thanks, John.”

“Why were they running, anyway?”

“Dunno, maybe AP exam.”

—

Miles watched as James was escorted back inside the building. His scowl etched onto his hideous face. Two of their shared buddies trailed behind him, rolling their eyes at the teachers questioning them.

One of the girls in his group was pressing against him, Miles getting more agitated by the minute. His disinterest in her only seemed to fuel her infatuation more, and it was getting annoying.

The guys at his table were all laughing at some—, probably sexist joke one of them made, the ladies giggling along with them, feeding their toxic lovers the attention they so desperately want. It’s not like Miles thought he was above these people. He just was. They were scum, but the only friends he could keep. Hurt people hurt people, and all that sappy shit. So when you hurt so much, only a small portion of people can stand you, and you them.

But when your name was mentioned, he perked up significantly — his ears fine tuning to the conversation. Completely forgetting about the raven-haired girl pressing against him, and focusing on the words spat by James and his two huevos.

“She’s hot though—,”

“Fuckin’ cares ‘f she is? Woulda beat her ass.”

“[Name]?”

“Yeah, [Name]. Miles got all fuckin’ sissy I thought she was hot, and now we don’t talk.”

“So?”

“So—!? Now I lost my chance with Imogen, she’s all fuckin’ over him cause I’m gone.”

Right, Imogen was her name.

“You want to beat her up over you losing a bitch? Just bag her instead?”

James rolled his eyes, debating it. Miles tensed, his relaxed posture straightened quickly, causing him to almost knock Imogen in the face. Too which she squealed at. An awful noise, really.

He quickly stood, chair falling behind him with a loud clang, and strode out of the hall, Glaring at James the entire time. His two friends laughed James’s sudden hesitance to respond, knowing how piss scared he was of Miles.

James stayed silent until the doors to the cafeteria closed, and the whispers started up. Then told his buddies off in a harsh tone.

No one had ever seen Miles do anything too bad. But with the amount of times he’s shown up to school with a busted nose and smug aura, you could tell—, whatever fight he’d had.

He’d won.

—

To say that Miles wanted to have the day away from school, probably wasn’t true. With the stuff he’d heard James and his dogs speil, he’d rather you not be alone.

He was—, worried.

But when his Uncle Aaron called him in for something urgent right at 4 AM, telling his Ma it was a work emergency, he couldn’t refuse his Uncle. He fit his mask onto him, faceplates slotting closed. Claws being turned and clicked into place, he flexed his hands, dragging the window of his room open in the early morning, and left with his Momma sound asleep.

—

The peace and quiet of the day had been rather disturbing. Not having Miles or any of his groupies bother you—. Was off, not unwelcome, but odd.

So when the bell rang for your fourth class, everyone heading from their lunch break back to their assigned classes, it was only by nature you’d be pulled into deserted corner of the school by some unknown figure. A hand placed over your mouth and the other gripping your wrist, pulling you back.

You struggled against the mystery person, a sickeningly familiar voice croaking in your ear.

“Be—,” You kicked your head back, knocking his jaw. “,—Fuckin’ bitch, be quiet.”

Your foot slipped under you, bringing him more leverage to haul you further from the light of the main hall.

You screamed through his hand, tears building behind your eyes when you heard a door unlock.

“Get in.”

“Fuckin—, Open it wider, dipshit.”

“Fuck off.”

James ripped his hand off your mouth before you could realise, pushing the middle of your back so you were forced into a dark, cold classroom.

You fell to your knees, a sense of déjà vu kicking in as you braced yourself with your hands.

Your chest heaved, James slamming the door shut.

“Keith, close those blinds.”

“Fuck are you gon’ do?”

“Beat the fuck outta her.”

—

Miles stuffed his claws somewhere in his locker, uncaring for secrecy. No one was there now, everyone having gone to class. He’d arrived fairly late, not an unusual occurrence considering his occupation, though. So the office ladies didn’t mind.

He slammed his locker shut, an image of you doing the same with a pout on your lips coming to mind. He had class with you now, sat right next to you, actually.

So he made his way towards the back block of the school, where you’d be.

—

A hit straight to your cheek sent you flying to the floor again, Mathew letting go of where he was holding you up.

“Dude your grip is shit.”

“Nod off.”

Keith muttered something about “Fucking brit..” from his seat on the prior teachers desk.

You groaned internally, eyes lolling to the closed curtains, the broken glass of the window letting in a sweet breeze. The only reprise from this entire ordeal was a broken window.

There’s some poetry in that, or something.

Blood dripped from your nose and lip. A cut on your cheek now present too. James, the creep, had rings on his thin fingers that, when used, hurt to no end.

You were picked back up by under your arms, closing your eyes in pain and hissing. You opened your eyes in time to see the small glint of metal in James’ pocket, and the wince on Keith’s face before another fist connected to your temple.

—

You weren’t there.

You had shown up to school, evident by your paper on the lecturers desk, but hadn’t shown up for the period.

And by the empty seats of James, Keith and Mathew. He could only guess what was happening right now.

Miles slammed the door to the class shut, ignoring the panicked yells of his teacher and started towards the darker parts of the school. Where no one used, a chemistry accident setting the safety board director deep in debt and a block of the school unusable.

He flung open his locker when close enough, snatching the prototype version of his claws from the locker. Small, sharp finger coverings that were something close to the claws he had for his Prowler suit. The knuckles were brassed and the wrist latch clasped easily to his skin. He slammed it shut again, not bothering with the lock, and honed in his hearing.

The walls were thin enough.

—

“Don’t you think this is a little too far?”

“Shut the fuck up, Keith.”

“Fuck you gonna do if she snitches—?”

He gripped James’s wrist, holding the knife away from both you and himself.

“—You gon’ ruin your life for this shit, man?”

“She’s been playing my fuckin’ nerves—, yeah.”

Keith gave him a bewildered look while Mathew stared on in disinterest, still holding you at a position you couldn’t right yourself.

The blood had stained your shirt now, bruising littering your face and body.

James had taken to ditching the knife.

“Fuckin—, Whatever man.”

It clattered to the ground with a large clang, the tiled floors of the science room made the echo ring in your head like the growing migraine.

“Drop ‘er.”

Keith glanced down at you, then backed off. An odd look on his face while he kicked the knife away from James, unintentionally pushing it closer to you.

He walked back to his seat.

Mathew let go, watching as you dropped to the ground and started coughing.

Choking on your own blood before you spat it out.

“You know how long i’ve been wantin’ to fucking do this?”

He raised his leg, tilting your chin up with his boot, how demeaning.

He swung back and kicked your ribs, sending you into another coughing fit while you fought the urge to throw up, tears streaming the blood dripping down your chin.

“Your family ruined my fucking life.” Another kick to your stomach, you gagged.

“Taking my dad, then my fucking girl too?”

What is this guy on about.

“Your fucking daddy couldn’t just mind his own business. Had to get involved, then you.”

A harder kick to your stomach, you clenched your abs and covered your head.

A sudden shock ran over you, a familiarity that always sat with James clicking in your mind.

James Ohnn, son of Jonathon Ohnn, a man who had a hand in the collapse of a still-in-construction Kaleidoscope that was said to bring revolutionary science to the new world. It’s framing shattered while the workers on it all went with it.

His father was the lead scientist of that Kaleidoscope, and by turn in of your dad, was promptly arrested.

“I didn’t do shit—,”

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

He kicked your ribs again, and you swore you could feel them crack.

“I’ll kill you, you fucking ruined me.”

He swiped the knife again, Keith shouting something you couldn’t hear amongst the ringing in your ears.

You shut your eyes, crowding your head with your arms.

A slam broke through the muffles of your mind. Panicked voices and accusations being thrown around before a thick accent curled around your head.

Miles Morales.

“I’d get your hands off her if I were you, Homeboy.”

Miles approached slowly, checking your face while keeping his eyes on the three men.

“Fuck off, Miles.”

“No.” His head cocked to the side, eyes slanting while he assessed the situation.

“What, you gonna fight us?”

James’s voice was shaking. He’d never seen Miles looks o absolutely pissed before.

“Don’t think I can, asshole?”

“It’s three against one.”

“Realmente piensas—, sabes que, no importa.”

Miles lunged at him, Keith and Mathew shouting in tandem while you struggled to keep your eyes open. The pain working its way past your adrenaline and into your bones.

He grabbed James by the wrist, twisting it back and listening to the sickening crunch of his Lunate bone in curious satisfaction. James screamed, trying to tear his hand away from Miles. Even with his right hand pulling too, he wouldn’t budge. The metal clicked together every time James shifted, and Miles gave an extra squeeze before letting go. The force James was pulling sending him flying back, he stumbled and tripped over your feet, falling back and smashing his head on the tiles.

The other two boys scrambled for the door, running out the hallway and whining like dogs.

James groaned, rolling onto his stomach, Miles deadpanned down at him. You watched through blurry vision as Miles picked his up, sat him against the teachers desk, almost slumped against it. Grabbed his hair by his crown, slowly bringing his head forward, bending him at the waist. Before slamming his head back against the wood with a dull thud. He repeated this sick, prolonged process until James had fallen unconscious. Standing over him, then going to grab the knife laid a bit from you. You looked at him from your position, not unthankful, but still—, he was evidently a contributor.

“Don’t move.”

“Wha— Why? I have to get home.”

Miles scoffed, crouching down next to you, knife in hand. His limp wrists resting on his bent knees.

“You gonna’ go home with a cracked rib and busted face? Nah, Chiquita. Vente conmigo, yo te arreglo.”

He stuffed the pocket knife down the side of his Nikes and took off his claws, putting them in the pocket of his jacket.

He hooked his arm under your knees and upper back, cradling you bridal style before standing to his full height.

You panicked a little— “Wha—, No. Miles, put me down.”

“No.”

“Hh— Whatdyu’ mean ‘No’!?”

You hooked your hands over his shoulders and gripped him as he made his way through the back exit of the school.

“I said, I’m taking you home.”

—

You groaned in pain, shirt lifted to just under your bra line as Miles assessed the damage.

He had been joking when he said cracked rib, but there was an underlying sense of real possibility. According to him though, nothing had been enough to seriously injure you. Except the disgusting looking bruises littering yourself.

You tried to focus away from the pain. Or Miles in general, he was very distracting, the lingering attraction you had when you met thought to be squished, was bubbling up again.

He had an ice pack pressed to your skin, and if you were a tad less conscious, maybe you would’ve made a joke of how cold his hands already were. The sweltering heat doing nothing to soothe the bruising.

“Keep this here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Watch the attitude.”

You huffed a breath, laugh being painful.

“Yeah, whatever.”

You shifted yourself to alleviate some pain, and took his place holding the pack on your stomach.

He grabbed an anti-septic from the small kit he had for first aid. When he’d pulled it out earlier, you’d questioned it.

“You get injured women on your room often, Miles?”

“Nah, Just you. Usually they can take care of ‘emselves.”

You’d giggled at that, not entirely offended but more so amused he’d decided not to take offence at your jab.

His hands reaching for your face brought you back to the present. Flinching back in surprise, you watched him watch for a moment. “Chill, ma. Just gon’ put this on your cuts. Needa’ touch your face for that.”

You cringed, the twisting of your lip having you suck in a harsh breath. “Yeah—, yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“Mhmm.”

The callouses in his hands were made known the moment he touched you, spreading the cream along the cut on your brow, cheekbone and lip.

His hands were a nice contrast compared to the heat of your cheeks, and the gentleness at which he was using.

When Miles touched your face, leaning his body closer to yours, he wanted to savour the feeling. The softness of your flesh against his own, how he could trace the contour of your cheek without it being awkward. His thumb rubbed a small amount of cream onto your lip and he couldn’t look away. The sight of your blood stained skin under his blemished hands had him stuck in the moment. Unable to answer her last question.

“Miles?”

The way her lips formed around his name sent a burning heat throughout his body.

“Yeah—.”

“Is my lip okay? ‘M I gonna need stitches?”

You poured up at him and he shook his head. “No.”

“Mmh— Okay.”

You looked to the side, addressing his room and Miles watched the way your eyelashes brushed along your cheeks when you blinked.

“Okay, just this left. Gonna be a little cold.”

“Thank you.”

“No stress, Chiquita.”

He grabbed some petroleum jelly, spreading it along the cuts on your face and moisturising the wound.

He then placed adhesive bandages along the places necessary, and placed everything back into his first aid.

“Miles.”

“Yeah, Mami?”

You paused at the name, he’d been using those a lot lately.

“How’d you know to find me?”

He looked down, shuffling up next to you against the headboard. You gazed out the window, ignoring the tension that was eating at the both of you. He did too.

“Gut feeling.”

—

DAMN BABY THIS ONE GOT WILD

tags :3 @gemma42 , @denuparxoume

my gorgeous translator @kissmxcheek !!

#earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #miles morales #spiderverse x reader #miles x reader #miles morales x you #Miles 42 #earth42!miles x reader #earth 42 #earth42!miles

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dcxdpdabbles · 2 months

Text

Red Yummy

Based on the post by @spacedace. Basically it's a joke that Red Robin (the restaurant with the little jingle: Reeed Robin: Yummm.) Isn't a thing in the DC world but is one in the Phantom world.

The rip in the multiverse was an issue the Justice League was not at all prepared for. Sure they had incidents where visitors from an alternate universe have crossed over to their side or they have gone to one. There are times when they meet doubles of themselves, both as allies and as enemies.

They have been to different Earths, with different histories, different countries, and that one particular time, even different beings that ruled the planet.

It's always been an adventure where at the end of it, the doorway to both worlds is sealed shut, with little or no chance of it opening again. The friends they made. The sights they saw. All gone. Fine. Over.

That was, until a villain from a different world, attempted to attack Clockwork's Tower. The Justice League was not aware of Clockwork- Master of Time, Weaver of Realms, The Concept of Between- but they noticed that he had been attacked when other worlds started spilling into theirs.

People were falling through glowing green portals, stumbling into buildings that weren't there before. People who were just going out for walks would be zapped away and replaced with their confused counterparts.

Parts of the sky glitch into others, replacing the soft blue with brown or black, little patches scattering around the world. Cities vanish for a few hours, sometimes replaced by others sometimes not, and animals never before seen running amok.

It was a mess.

The League did everything it could to help, but it was hard to stretch their reach to the help then world when all reality was being thrown into a mixer and set on chaos.

A lot like busted pipes, the Leaugers would run to cover a leaking pipe only to have the water build up in another and burst there and then scramble to cover that one before the rising water drowned them all.

Thankfully the Justice League Dark was able to use magic and find the source of the leak. The Infinite Realms known as the web that linked all universes, are usually only accessible by the dead, or in Constantine's case having friends in high places.

"Ghost Writer owes me a favor," Constantine said while the rest of the Leauge watched a flouting green book descend from the sky. It flipped open, expanding into a gateway. The smoke of the book curled into little missy hearts.

"Ghost Writer?" Zatanna gawked "How did you get such a powerful, and notoriously recluse, being to owe you anything?"

"Let's just say, we both appreciate the finer things in life and that ghost has a rather fine ass" Constantine leered. No one had asked for any more detail, although Zatanna had the expression of someone who had bitten something sour the whole time.

Ghost Writer had given Constantine a warning that his power would only be able to protect five living souls. Any more would be at the mercy of the Infinite Realms'.

Humans that wandered into the Realms were more often than not driven into madness, became hopelessly lost, or had their souls swindled by beings that dwelled there. Not that it wasn't surprising.

After all, the living did not belong there, so of course they were a danger to the Realms' structure. Hell, there were rumors that a living being could produce fresh uncorrupted ectoplasm when killed or even kept like livestock.

Constantine did not want to find out if the rumors had any truth to them.

To be able to travel safely they had to fall under a powerful ghost's protection and Ghost Writers let them know to pick their five best.

It was decided that Constantine would go as their expert, Batman as their strategist, Wonder Woman as their diplomat and protection, Superman as second protection, and Zatanna as another magic user that could combat the dead.

The rest of the league remained, doing their best to hold their universe together as the team of five rushed off to put everything to right. It was agonizing not knowing what was happening or how the mission was going but they did what they could and placed their trust in the five.

Many of the Justice League didn't say it, but it was the remaining Bats that sort of kept everything afloat in their father's absence. Each one leads a group of young heroes, easily countering and controlling their self-appointed sectors of the world.

Nightwing and Titians.

Red Robin and Young Justice.

Red Hood and the Outlaws.

Oracle and the Birds of Prey

Robin and the Blades.

All five groups agree to use the Watch Tower as a central base to coordinate their defenses against the world falling apart. Trading information with each other quickly and efficiently, and using this new information to prepare for more ripples of universes, showcasing that Batman had taught them well.

Following their example, the rest of the Justice League did what they could to minimize the damage. It was on the second day of constant relief efforts that everything was snapped back to normal.

A giant wave of sound- the noise sounding a lot like a grandfather clock strick repeating over and over again- as things that were not meant to be in their world vanished and their own people and things returned.

The shy's patches were removed and the right color returned.

Even property damages that were caused by the incident were reversed as if reality falling apart was nothing but a dream. No wreckages to clean up, no people had gone missing, and best of all, no casualties had been taken.

The Leauge gathered around Ghost Writer's book watching it open as the five returned, cheering and screaming, giving them the proper hero's welcome. Then right behind their teammates, a second group followed through.

Three glowing figures, all dressed in the same black and white outfits, and a ship carrying four humans. Batman introduced them as the allies who helped defend Clockwork's Tower and keep the multi-universe from collapsing.

He did admit that just because it was no longer falling apart, it did not mean that the rip had been closed. In fact, it was the only thing left to do but it was proving to be difficult due to Clockwork himself not understanding why their world wasn't healing.

Clockwork couldn't leave the Realms for too long- if no one was there to keep Time running the same thing would happen all over again- but he did give them equipment that could in theory patch things up on their side.

They just needed someone who understood the equipment.

Team Phantom, led by Danny Phantom, one of the flowing figures was happy to volunteer. They would be staying for three years, to strengthen and rebuild their Universe structure.

Team Phantom consisted of Dan Phantom, Danielle Phantom, Jasmin Fenton, Tucker Foley, Samantha Manson, and Westley Weston. All young, kind, strong- Batman vouched for the non-powered members claiming they could go toe to toe with his kids- and all much to the joy of many young heroes- attractive. They played an essential role on the team, doing whatever their people and kind did to help Clockwork, staying out of the League's way.

They all seemed happy to live as close to civilians as possible and despite their strength and combat training, Team Phantom was more like a research party instead of a hero.

Since they would be there for three years- more depending on the Speed Force's effect on the timeline grumbles Tucker- the seven had chosen to set down some roots within their dimension.

The three Phantoms needed Ectoplasim to live- a rare substance in the Justice League's universe- so they chose Gotham as their new home. Batman was more than willing to allow them into his city, as long as they knew not to interfere with his work.

Things settled, The Justice League moved on to other missions and other issues while Team Phantom ran tests, gathered information, and worked on the timeline.

The only real issue Bruce had with Team Phantom, was that a majority of his kids were romanticly interested in them.

Dick's love-struck sigh, whenever Dan wandered by, would often lead to useless backflips in an ill-fated attempt to impress him.

Jason would conventionally be lifting weights shirtless whenever Jazz came by with an update report. Then he would mention some novel or other that had the girl's attention far better than his abs.

Steph had taken a very large interest in gardening and at the same time, started wearing shorter shorts and tighter tops because Sam seemed to adore flowers.

Cass meanwhile found every excuse there was to be dressed in the prettiest dresses she owned whenever Wes was anywhere near her. She even wore light makeup- a real sign of how much she was interested in the conspiracy theorist.

Duke seemed over the moon whenever Tucker asked for his personal help on anything technical-related. It did his son wonders that someone thought of him first when it came to tech- Duke has always been a bit self-conscious of his place among geniuses- would be all but speaking in poems to the bemused teenager.

Damian's crush on Ellie did melt Bruce's heart a little. It was his baby's first after all, but he wasn't sure if Damian's approach was doing anything. Put him on the battlefield and Damian could lead to victory. Put him next to a pretty young girl and all his son was capable of doing was stare and babble.

The only one that didn't seem to have a crush on Team Phantom was Tim. Which should have given him reassurance except for the small little detail.

"Red Robin" Danny sings upon Tim's arrival at the cave. Officially tonight they are all going over the results of the latest tests on the universe's structure. Unofficially Team Phantom had been invited over for dinner by Alfred and they were looking over the Batcave as their butler finished preparing the main course.

At once every member of Team Phantom raises their head, turning away from his love-struck children to his flustered son and singing "Yum" with wide smiles.

Tim's face goes bright red.

Apparently, Tim was their universe version of Adonis and Team Phantom had no issue with expressing how yummy they found Tim. Now Bruce isn't saying that he would be against Tim having more than one romantic partner- he has made sure to look up proper healthy poly relationships and given Tim a PowerPoint version of it.

It's just that he isn't sure how he's going to handle supporting one of his children while breaking the heart of another. Tim seems unsure how to handle so much romantic attention- he's had plenty of relationships before- but said attention is picking him before any of his siblings is a first.

Bruce knows that deep down Tim still struggles with thinking he's not as good as the others. That he really is just a placeholder in the long run.

Then there is the fact he isn't sure how their culture works. Is the singing like a mating call? Was there a chance they would earn the irk of Clockwork himself if Tim accidentally accepted their advances? Why was it always Red Robin and not just Tim himself that made Team Phantom go yummmm?

"Hi guys" Tim greets at least and Danny grins wider.

"Reeeeed Robbbbbin" " The ghost boy says throwing an arm over Tim's shoulders. Sam and Tucker surround them, making their voices sound strange as all three start singing, rocking Tim back and forth in a strange little dance.

"Yummmmm!"

From the corner of his eyes, Bruce makes out Dick's protective Older Brother's face, as his eldest starts marching towards the group with the intent of breaking them apart. He's been very vocal about putting an end to Team Phantom's flirtations if he saw so much as a hint of Tim's unease.

Except that Tim looked utterly bliss being pressed up against Danny. Maybe he should rethink Tim's disinterest in Team Phantom. The rest of his children looked murderous as more members of Team Phantom gathered around Tim also singing.

Bruce had to deal with this for three whole years. He can physically feel his hair turning greyer.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Red Yummy #In which Team Phantom is just singing a commercial #And the DC world think they all romantically like Tim #Tim is in fact into Danny #None of Team Phantom is aware of their admirers #None of them are exactlly socially popular back home they just think the Waynes are nice #Yes it was Vlad's fault #Bruce's pov #I JUST HAD TO WRITE IT #IT'S SO FUNNY

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kentopedia · 6 months

Text

♰ skipping heartbeats — nanami kento

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ KINKTOBER NO. 3 - curse user!nanami

nanami wants to see every jujutsu sorcerer dead, but he might make an exception just for you

contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, sorcerer!reader, rough sex, slight overstimulation, begging, pet names, unprotected sex, villain nanami, jjk typical violence, tw mahito apperance :/, exes, angst, soft dom nanami, wall sex — 5.6k

He was never the same after Shibuya.

It's been two years, but you still remember that October with clarity. Memories blur at the back of your eyelids each night, carving images into your irises; each time you think you’ll get a full night of sleep, Nanami Kento returns to haunt your dreams, then lingers to steal your waking moments.

The change in him had been gradual, subdued. He’d hidden it well, so well, in fact, that everyone had believed that he was doing fine. Even you, the one who should’ve known him better than anyone, had never gotten him to reveal his darkest thoughts.

His succumb to madness was slow, but it was the consequence of a near decade. The burden of a sorcerer weighed heavily on everyone, but it hit Nanami the hardest, years and years of survivor’s guilt and misery bearing on his shoulders.

Then Halloween in Shibuya had happened; Nanami nearly lost his life, and something in him snapped. It wasn’t long after that he left. You haven’t seen him since.

Close to twenty-four months have passed since he disappeared, but his presence still lingers, twisting your world and your life into a den of chaos. No one is left at the school, and there are hardly any sorcerers left in Japan. Those who are still alive have moved anywhere but Tokyo, and those who stay know it won’t be long before they lose their lives too.

Your breath catches as you listen in silence, recounting every moment that led you here.

There is a scream from the other building, listlessly crying for help, but you won’t reach them in time, nor do you have the power to fight back. Despite your endless intelligence, your technique isn’t built for combat. It isn’t a threat to semi-grade one curses, and it certainly isn’t a threat to Nanami Kento.

You squeeze your eyes shut, slumping against the wall as you hold your arm, a bloodied wound seeping through your sleeve. There is no one here to heal you, no one left to help. Shoko moved away from the school months ago, once she realized that too many sorcerers are dying and Gojo is never coming back.

After that, many of the students left too; save for the few third years that had been determined to stay and fight.

The scream sounds again, before it’s cut off, abruptly. Another student gone. Another sorcerer dead.

You’d been such a fool to think you could take the place of people like Yaga, Gojo, Nanami; that you could bring together the last remaining sorcerers in the city. They’d been ones to look up to, strong and steadfast, but you are neither of those things.

You are the weak one who’d managed to stay alive, and the last person that probably should’ve.

Still, you persist, not giving into death so easily. There has to be an escape route; if you can’t save the students, maybe, just maybe, you can save yourself. There is still hope, as long as just one sorcerer is left in Tokyo. The school can be rebuilt, the curses can be exorcised, and things can go back to normal.

As long as you stay alive.

You listen, waiting for another sound before you move, attuned to your surroundings. The doors are shut, locking you in, and it’s too dark, too empty in the building for you to hide anywhere. Classrooms you’d once shared with Gojo open up like an endless chasm, the vending machine you got sodas from with Geto leers at you, and the hallways you’d kissed Kento in…

The memories are so soured.

You’re so close to the door, though. So close, and you can be free of the ghostly memories, and this time, you’ll leave Tokyo once and for all.

There is nothing left for you here now. With each day that passes, you start to realize more and more that no one is coming back. They’re all gone, and Nanami is not the man he’d once been.

You shuffle along the wall, trying to stay hidden in the shadows, away from the lights that flicker up above, destroyed by the veil of cursed energy. While your entire life has been a cacophony of evil, never before have you felt, so intensely, that you’re in a horror film. You are the final girl, ironically, without an ounce of heroine vigor.

All you have is a sliver of willpower to stay alive; just a few feet away, and you’ll be there, outside, able to escape from this pit of hell.

It’s so close—but not close enough.

“There you are!” a voice cries out, ringing like a jovial song through the hallways. It is eerily familiar, much too high-pitched and enthusiastic for such a brutal warzone. “We’ve been looking for you.”

You turn, shoulders stiff as you try hard not to freeze. Behind you, a young curse stands casually, his blue hair rolling over one of his shoulders, a stitched face smiling at you evilly. He’s pleased to see you, that much is obvious, and he prances over to you, fingers waving in the air.

“Oh, I can’t wait! I have to make you last because we’re running out of sorcerors to play with!” The tone is horrifyingly amused, more frightening than Geto in his final hours, of any of the clan higher-ups, even of Gojo at his absolute worst.

It’s the tone of someone who feels nothing, who cares about nothing, and who will enjoy watching you bleed.

You open your mouth, throat dry as you scramble for words, for a way to defend yourself. Three seconds stretch out into a minute while you contemplate, but Mahito is already upon you, his eyes flashing with excitement.

This would be it, wouldn’t it? How poetic that this wretched curse would be the one to kill you, after he took everything from you two years ago.

He advances; but something stops him, another aura. It’s not as powerful, but it’s much more commanding, much more human.

“Mahito.” The tone is forceful, flat, without any nuance of sound. It comes from behind you, and you stiffen, knowing from the simple string of letters who it is. The sound of the voice has something unfurling in your chest, choking you, rendering you helpless. “Don’t touch her.”

“Why?” Mahito whines, curling his fingers around your hair, his cursed face and energy too close, too frightening for you to move. “There’s no one left to kill. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Find something.” Nanami’s to you in just a few steps, and you can feel his presence behind you, the voice that slowly sneaks up on you. He smells the same as he did back then, and you squeeze your eyes shut, try to remember that he’s not Kento anymore, and whoever he is, you don’t love him.

You can’t.

“I’ll take care of her.”

Mahito grumbles, but after a few seconds of staring down Nanami, he leaves, skipping off to some other corner of the school. It’s disgusting how pleased he is by the murders he’s committed, but why shouldn’t he be? If his goal is to rid the world of sorcerers, he’s done quite well at accomplishing it.

Which meant every one of your students is dead. Which meant any remaining sorcerers are gone for good. There isn’t a jujutsu sorcerer left in Tokyo but you, and even though you need to call for help, no one can get here fast enough to save you.

Nanami, slowly, comes around to glower before you, standing too close, his breath ghosting your shoulders. You feel his gaze like daggers, dragging over every inch of you, regarding you with a thinly veiled disgust.

You’re not ready to face him, not after all the time you’ve been apart, but you don’t have a choice. He’s in front of you within seconds, looking down at you from the bridge of his nose, his hair mussed, but still in the same style that he’d worn two years ago.

It is, really, the only thing about him that hasn’t changed.

“How the hell did you end up back here?” That’s the first thing he says, the tone crazed and so opposite of the flat inflection his voice had always held. The sound leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, and you twitch, trying to keep your expression from shifting. Not even a simple greeting before he’s already mocking you, judging your poor choices, the ones that will get you killed.

You say nothing, but regard him with a dry mouth, letting your eyes drift across his broad shoulders, down his chest. He’s covered in blood, stained deep maroon—evidence of his murders, the color so different than the gore of curses.

The old beige suit is gone, replaced by an expensive black one, tailored perfectly to every angle of his body. Nanami has traded in the blue button-up for a crisp burgundy one, and though the tie is different, it’s recognizable.

You’d gotten him that tie for his 28th birthday, one of black silk embossed with flowers, tiny white ones woven within the vines. You’d purchased it on your trip abroad.

It makes you sick. You’re not sure how long you can look at him without expelling the contents of your stomach.

“You know,” he says, not waiting for you to answer as he walks around, swinging his weapon that is now used for evil. “I thought that maybe when I left, you’d decide to do something with your life.” His irises that are now so dark, nearly black, pin you. Gone, too, are the old glasses, exposing his severe, narrowed eyes. “You stayed in Tokyo to rot.”

“What choice did I have?” you ask, wishing you could speak without your voice cracking. Yet, when Nanami stalks you like prey, calculating, the familiar blade in his hands, you feel a flare of fear start up in your stomach.

You don’t know the man before you. He’s beautiful, as handsome as you remember. Yet, he stares at you with disdain, and he’s cruel, so cruel. His lips are hardened into a permanent scowl, seeping through his merciless laugh.

“Well,” Nanami stops pacing and stands in front of you, running a hand down the side of the cursed tool, thoughtful. “I had hoped you’d come with me, but I knew better than to ask. Your moral convictions would have prevented that, darling.” A smile drips with poison as your steadfastness falters, the name sliding smoothly off his tongue, something about it still so sweet, even with his malice. “You always were too good for me.”

That isn’t true, at least, not in your mind. He had been a good man once, the very best. Maybe you could’ve done something to stop this, to help him. Yet, as many times as you run it over in your mind, even you can’t pinpoint the exact moment he’d fallen.

“You’re right,” you say, grateful that your voice sounds a little stronger, a little harder. “I never would’ve come with you. You’ve killed our friends. You’ve killed children, Nanami.”

Something shifts between you; his eyes widen as he takes another pace forward, nothing but inches separating you. Against every intelligent cell in your body, your heart skips, breath catching at his proximity.

“Nanami?” he asks, eyebrows pulling together with a sigh. The air grows stagnant around you as he notices the lack of warmth behind your apathetic eyes. “Here I thought you’d still call me by my name. We did once share a bed after all.”

“That means nothing to me now,” you spit, wishing he would stop staring at you with such hunger. You’ve never been immune to him, and you’re not sure you are now, not sure that you won’t waver at his feet, if even out of panic. He’s so solid before you, a resolute being of power. Perhaps he’s even stronger now than he was before. “Look at you. I don’t know who you are.”

Nanami points the sword at your throat, and though it’s blunt, not sharp enough to do any damage, you still weaken in the knees, stare back at him with something akin to dread. Your eyes are wide, but your breath comes out steady as your hands shake by your sides.

“I’m the person who decided to do something, finally.” Nanami raises his voice, every word punctuated by years of repressed anger. “Sorcerers grumbled for decades, centuries, but no one made any effort to make a change.” His jaw clenches as he drops the weapon back down, sniffing with abhorrence. Nanami’s in your personal space, his breath hot on your cheeks, and you feel tears well up in your eyes, even when you’re not sure why. “Even Gojo Satoru, who claimed to hate the higher-ups, who saved Yuuji Itadori, did little. I’m the person who realized that nothing’s going to change, not unless the system is burned from the inside out.”

A twitch starts from your heels, rising as he glares down at you. His features are tense, every muscle in his body taut. Still, there’s something about him. There’s something about the way he’s wearing the tie you once bought him, as familiar as the tall, strong frame that leers over you.

“There’s none of us left, Nanami,” you say, blinking away those tears, even though he’s already spotted them, the corner of his lips quirking with a crazed glint to his eyes. “You’ve made sure of that.”

“Then a new order of sorcerers can build its way from the ground up.” Nanami leans forward, his face near yours as he cocks his head. “I’ve succeeded.”

You squeeze your fingers into your shirt, twisting them around the stiff cotton tightly. Your heel slips just one inch back, away from him, and the movement doesn’t go unnoticed by your ex-lover.

He scoffs, a smirk widening.

“What’s wrong?” Nanami says. A veiny hand snakes between you, and he cups your cheek with a softness that goes against every fiber of what he stands for. “Are you afraid of me?”

Your lips part, but words don’t come out. Instead, you blink up at him with glossy eyes, your heart hammering in your chest.

“You probably should be,” he continues, his fingers brushing your jaw, luring you in, a security blanket that he will snatch away once you get comfortable. “I’ve ruined your life.”

The room feels colder than it did before, as terror starts pressing down on you, your entire body shaking with anxiety. Still, your eyelids flutter at his touch, every cell within you reacting out of muscle memory, weakened by the killer’s touch.

“A life that you once promised to protect.”

He smiles, and it’s so cold, a rival only to the devil's, even though it ignites a flame in your chest. “Why do you think I saved you for last?”

Your eyes burn with tears.

“Still as pretty as I remember,” Nanami hums on the edge of a sigh, and his gaze darts all over your face, searching for a secret buried there. His tone is rough, but, somehow, there’s an ounce of affection there too, like a part of him is still holding onto the near decade you were together. It’s no consolation, but it gives you some satisfaction; at least it meant something. “You have a new boyfriend?”

You turn hot all over at the way he grins at you, watches the flush form on your face as your eyes fly open. Nanami has you in the palm of his hand, easily, and whatever happens, it’ll be up to him. “N-no,” you stutter, his thumb sliding over your mouth, knocking against your teeth.

His grin is wild, predatory. “I knew I’d ruined you for anyone else.”

A breath catches in your throat, and your chest rises and falls heavily from the wave of desire that goes straight to your stomach. You feel as if your knees might give out, that you might need to grab onto him, just to stand upright.

It’s sickening, and you hate yourself, hate how much you want him, even though he’s the one that killed the people you care most about.

“Kento?” you ask in a small voice. “Are you going to kill me?”

“I don’t know.” He softens, just a hair, and easily, he’s back to the man you remember, the sweet, caring one you thought you’d marry one day. “I probably should… but I think I might just fuck you instead.” The words are muttered against your lips, and you stumble forward, gripping his strong biceps, a feeble attempt to keep from puddling at his feet.

His face clears once again, stoic, and harsh. Maybe it’s all a ploy to get you in his arms, to weaken you even further, but you don’t care. You’ve missed him, you’ve missed him so much, and you’d die to kiss him one more time. The blood on his face doesn’t matter; nothing matters except how much you once loved him, the love that never went away, even in the times you wanted to hate him.

You wonder whether or not Satoru would sympathize if he was here. Maybe he’d understand why you never went after Nanami and holed yourself up in the school instead. Although you tried to protect your students, you could never act out of violence, and that had cost you everything.

You know you've made mistakes, perhaps more than anyone, but you can’t control your heart; it’s a heart that is caged by steely ribs, and still the possessor of your fragile mind.

“Kento,” you say, running your hands all over him, the muscles that have only hardened, grown with time. “I miss you.”

It’s nothing more than a whisper, but it still changes his entire demeanor, turns him into something desperate. Kento comes on twice as strong; every caress sends a wave of need through you. When you whimper, toppling under his gentle touches, he kisses you hard, pushes you backwards into the wall.

The taste of his lips is almost too much, a conflict of memories piling onto you, transporting you into a version of yourself that is two years younger, much more hopeful. You kiss him like you’re twenty-two, unsharpened by the world, because despite what you have suffered, life was better seven years ago than it is now.

The illusion is short-lived, though; Kento is rougher than he used to be, and he shoves you hard, bruises your lips. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, sloppy kisses smearing saliva all over your cheeks.

He may not be as kind as he once was, but you’ll never be able to deny your attraction for him.

“Fuck.” Kento unzips his slacks, palming at the bulge that already lies within the tight material. “Look what you do to me, baby.” It catches you off guard; he’s never called you that before, never sounded so lewd instead of loving. “Think I started getting hard the second I saw you. Remember the last time I was inside you?”

You groan against his lips, breathing heavily as you thread your smaller hands in his hair. He tastes like alcohol, and you know that he’s always enjoyed a drink, but it was never this prominent on his tongue. That observation alone makes you wonder what else about him has changed; if he sleeps on the same side of the bed now that you’re gone, if he likes to read just as much as before, if he still takes his coffee with just a splash of milk.

The thoughts hurt, searing a hole through your chest. You try to ignore them.

As you kiss, Kento manhandles you backwards, his fingers spread over your collarbones. Your back hits the wall, a ghoulish crack reverberating throughout the room. It hurts, but the pain is outweighed by the feeling of him all over your body, the sheer anticipation for him to touch you like you need.

“Want you,” you say, as his hands clamp around your delicate wrists, pinning them against the wall. Kento’s palms are so much bigger; he’s so strong that it’s devastating. You have no choice but to let him take from you, to kiss down your neck and leave a bruise you won’t be able to cover up in the morning. “Please.”

“Dirty girl,” he laughs, breathless against your throat, the sound vibrating against the strained tendons there. Hastily, he spins you around, forces your face into the wall, your chest pressed into it. Your cheek is cold, smashed into your bone against the plaster. “I’ve killed everyone in this building, and here you are, begging me to touch you.”

The rough tone sends desire coursing through you, and you cry out against the wall as arousal bleeds out of you. Kento kisses you, across your shoulders, his cock pressing up against you, hard and thick.

A groan releases into your ear, and you squirm, rubbing your thighs together in anguish. Begrudgingly, Kento lets one of your wrists go so that he can drag your skirt down, leaving you with shivering legs in the cool October evening.

You reach back to grab at him, desperately needing him inside of you; but he stills you with his hand, laughing eagerly into your skin.

“So impatient. Thought I taught you better than that.” Though, he drags your panties down quicker, lets them pool at your ankles along with the dark-colored skirt. It’s obvious he wants you just as much; he wastes no time dragging a hand down his cock, the tip already beginning to leak.

“Kento,” you say against the cold wall, throbbing, swallowing down all your need for him. It’s too dark for you to see every one of his pretty features, but his shadowy eyes gleam ruthlessly in the moonlight. “Let me kiss you again—”

Kento tsks and shakes his head, brushing your hair over one shoulder. “Now, that can’t happen. You’ll fall in love with me again too easily.” A laugh forces its way out of his chest, and you hate that the sound creates pressure in your body. You’re already in love with him, but his grip is too tight on you; you can’t kiss him, even though you want to.

A finger runs between your folds as Kento reaches between your legs, gathering slick in the process. His skin is cold, and you whimper; he used to be so warm, a natural furnace. Yet, he’s teasing you now, listening to your breathy little whispers as you lean back into him.

Without thinking, you grasp his hand with your own, slide it forward as the veins and tendons flex under your palm. This time, he complies; he lets you push his fingers into your cunt, much thicker and longer than your own.

“Oh sweetheart,” he says, full of scornful sympathy, so contrary to the soft kisses on your neck. “You’re soaked. Have you really missed me that much?”

Your breath grows hot, heavy as he sinks his fingers deeper into you. You think about how much you loved him two years ago, and how much you still do.

Everyone you care about is gone, everyone but him. Perhaps Kento is the only one who’s truly ever mattered, because even if you’d been asked to kill him, you never would’ve done it, never could’ve; you’re not strong enough.

That’s where you and Satoru differ.

Kento slides his fingers in and out, stretching you, brushing against your swollen clit that’s begging to be touched by him. He bites down hard on your shoulder, blooms a bruise there and marks you as his forever, even if you’d never be anyone else’s anyways.

Already, you feel your climax building; you’re breathing heavier, crying out his name in a voice that doesn’t quite sound like your own. “I’m c-close,” you manage, and that is the wrong thing to say. He stills all at once and slips his fingers out of you, a web of arousal smeared over his knuckles.

Between your legs, you’re sticky, cold, but you barely notice. Your attention is directed on how aching and empty you are when his hands leave your body.

With a whine, you force your hips backwards, hating the chill that surrounds you all at once. “I wanna cum—”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Kento smiles against your neck and drags his cock against the small of your back, swollen and hard. “But I know you can ask much nicer than that.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, “please, Kento, please, please, I need you, I—”

“There’s my good girl.” A breathy laugh leaves him as he angles the tip against your entrance, slow, pressing into you. “Fuck,” Kento groans, loudly, drawing out the syllables. “Squeezing me so tight, baby, you’ve been waiting just for me?”

“Ken—” you say, and it’s all you can manage, the little nickname that no one’s ever called him but you. Kento buries himself inside you, his hot, muscular chest pressing into your back, pinning you against the cold wall. He’s so much bigger and wider, and his body encases you, shielding you from the agony that he’s dealt with his own hand.

You’re not sure if you can stand on your own — not under the weight of your solid and forceful affection for him.

“I know, I know," he says to the sweet sounds that escape you. "I’ve got you.”

Kento reaches around and cups your breast, squeezing hard. His thumb flicks over your nipple, the nail dragging against it cruelly as he swirls over the padded bra. Still, his blanketed touch is electrifying; your fingers curl into the wall, smooth, clawing without anything to grab onto.

He fucks into you, slowly, his strained cock rough against your walls. It’s just as you remember, and you long for your old life, wishing that there was a sorcerer out there whose technique could somehow turn back time. Then, you’d do something different, even if you’re not sure what.

With each thrust, his speed increases, hitting deeper and deeper inside you. Kento’s groans are so pretty, and tears roll down your cheeks at the feeling of him within you, surrounding you, the man you still touch yourself to at night, even when he’s a cold-blooded killer.

“It’s been a while since anyone’s fucked you like this, hm?” Kento says, cooing, almost sorry, even if he doesn’t realize how true that is. You feel dizzy with him, the sound of his syrupy voice, so deep and invigorating. “Need to cum so bad, don’t you, pretty?”

“Please,” you say, and you almost tell him you love him, almost let it slip, even though it can’t. This is nothing, this is nothing, this is nothing, you try and tell yourself, but you’re too distracted by the sounds, the utter sin that you’ve committed here in this school.

You’ve betrayed everyone, and you’re still betraying them now, your weak heart nothing but a burden.

Kento says your name, groans it around your ear as he presses harder into your body. His cock angles upwards, forces itself past your aching walls, and, he’s buried in you completely. There’s a lingering sting, a bitter pain, but Kento feels like home. Your stomach tightens, bursting with energy.

“You’re so perfect, aren’t you? So beautiful. Always take it like you were made for my cock,” he groans, and you suck him right back in, clamping around him tightly. “I missed this pretty pussy; maybe as much as I missed you.”

Tears well up in your eyes then, and you sob, reach around to grab his hair. You need to feel him all around you, remember what it was like for him to love you in return.

He hits a spot within you, and you arch into him, crying, a mess between your legs and on your face.

“There?” Kento says, but he already knows the answer, grinning as he kisses your cheek, your temple. “How could I ever forget the sweet sounds you make when you’re about to cum.”

You press his head closer, feel him kiss your neck again, softer this time, lovingly. He runs a delicate hand across your ribcage, your stomach. “You going to let go for me, angel? Surprised you lasted this long after two years. Think my sweet girl deserves it.”

“K-kento,” you whisper, but his name doesn’t get far; it’s cut off by your moan as he rips the orgasm from you, and you clench around him tightly, shaking.

“That’s it,” he says and shudders, grunting as he forces out the words. Your body jerks involuntarily into him as you slump against the wall, trapped between it and Kento. Already, you’re so sensitive, and your tears don’t stop falling as he pushes his cock into you again and again.

Kento’s heart is heavy within his chest, pounding against your back. You feel sick, helpless, missing him endlessly, even with him right at your fingertips. You can’t believe that you’ve lasted two years without him; how can you survive a lifetime?

“Take me with you,” you plead, your eyelids fluttering close as you try and remember the feeling of him, memorizing it in case this is the last time. “Please.”

“Can’t do that, sweetheart.” Kento jerks back into you, forcing your cheek further against the wall. His hand is stiff against your head, even though he strokes your hair gently, encouraging. “I’m supposed to kill you, remember? I’m supposed to rid the world of every last sorcerer.”

“I need you, Kento,” you cry, feeling close to another orgasm already. Tears are running down your cheeks, your lips wet with spit as your mouth parts. “Just like it was before. I love you; I love you so much, I’ll be so good, I’ll—”

Kento groans your name and cums inside you, thick ropes painting your insides. It’s too much, everything about this is too much, and you’re squeezing him again, painfully sensitive as you orgasm once more.

Nonsense spews from your lips, and you grab at him in desperation as he finally drags out of you, the absence of him shattering you completely. Your inner thighs are sticky and wet, and his cum drips down your thighs, leaving you nothing more than a cold, ruined mess.

Kento shushes, soothes you with sounds that are closer to taunts as you spin around, grab at him, claw at his wrinkled red shirt. There’s still blood on his face, but even then, you accept him; you’ll forgive him for every wrongdoing he’s committed if he lets himself love you once more.

“I want to go with you,” you say, and though his face is hard, he’s caressing your cheek with an opposite sort of touch, sadness in his weary eyes.

“I know you do,” he says, and there’s a conflict within him as his features contort. It’s the only evidence that maybe, deep down, he cares about you still. “But I’m not the man you want. Not anymore.” It’s a whisper, a prayer, and goodbye.

You nearly slap him as he straightens, inches away from you. You feel that you’ve been pushed into a pit of inky chaos, left soaked and naked from the way down, humiliated. Your cheek is red from where it was pressed into the textured paint, stinging from the pressure.

“Kento, please,” you beg, and he takes a step back, hardening his eyes. “You can’t leave me again. I’d rather die. I’d rather you kill me.”

You’re not sure which of the statements snaps him back into himself once more.

Kento blinks, then lets a cold smile filter onto his face, one that lingers darkly on every corner of his expression. A smear of blood remains on his sharp cheekbone, and he wipes it clear, grazing his eyes along your body in a way that makes you feel so small. You’re nothing to him, then; even though you had been once.

“Oh, I decided I won’t kill you this time,” he says, pushing his hair back into place as his spine goes rigid, straightening like a marionette string. “I want to make sure I have a pretty girl to come back to every now and again.”

“What?” It leaves you forcefully, and you’re choking in shame, because you hope the words are true. You can’t stand a life without Nanami Kento, even if that life is nothing more than seeing him in the cracks of moonlight, the shadows where no one knows he’s lurking. You’d take that before a lonely existence, void of the sweet lips of the devil that you pray to.

“I’ll leave Tokyo,” you shout, red-faced and teary eyed, your words nothing more than empty threats. “I’ll leave the country. You’ll never find me.”

Nanami grins, laughs at you coolly, a sound that chills you to the core. “Oh, I’d find you.”

You don’t have time to formulate a response. A breath forces its way out of you, but the wretched curse reveals itself from the corner of the room, stopping any words from escaping your lips. His eyes hungrily roam every inch of you, lingering on the lower half of your exposed body; you wonder how long he’s been there, watching, not saying a word.

“Are you done yet?” Mahito asks, dragging his lurid gaze away to face Nanami. “You’ve had your fun, let’s kill her now.”

Nanami’s eyes flash. “Leave her,” he says, scoffing. “She’s already as pathetic as it gets. Killing her won’t make a difference.” He spits the words coldly, and turns, following the curse out of the room

tags: @hannzai @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346 @annoyingpainterprincess

I GOT SO NERVOUS TO POST THIS ONE SHDHFHS

OCTOBER MASTERLIST

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kunikuma · 6 months

Text

sorry i'm late, sweetheart

relationship | wriothesley x afab! fem! reader

synopsis | the duke had been held up for a little too long in the deep sea and... well. content | smut, no plot, MDNI!cw | pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, good girl, my love), usage of the term "fucktoy" but not in the degrading way? (bro is just feeling good), c.ock bulge, marking, biting, fucking from below, usage of “cunt”, trying to top but y/n folded fast (mb im y/n), praise kink, kinda meh a/n | i wrote this idea down after he took too long to come home. a shiny, drunken $30 was what convinced him. i got MAD but i literally got whipped by him mid fic and then lost my anger.

masterlist

“you’re late.”

he laughs hoarsely at your repeated words of the night. he leers at the swell of your breasts as they rise and fall with your movements when you steadily bounce on his lap. moonlight illuminated your left side and damn did the beams complement you well.

your perky nips were peaked by the cool chill of the night air and he had half the mind to just apologetically lave his tongue over them to warm them right up.

the man could catch glimpses of shiny slick coating your quivering inner thighs each time you impatiently wiggled on his lap. your pretty little fingers tugged at his crimson tie, yanking him close as you narrowed your eyes down at him.

waiting for an explanation.

gruffly, he laughs at your scrunched expression.

“sweetheart, you look quite—“

the compliment withers in his mouth as a moan cuts through his words and he clenches his jaw shut. you clamped down on his hard cock as you took him all in, a twinge of pain from the sheer amount of him shot through your body. your bated whimper failed to get smothered by the back of your hand as you started to ground your hips against his, wanting to see him crumble by your hand.

wriothesley’s head lolls back, exposing his scarred neck to your eyes as he chuckles in disbelief. his hazy eyes examine the teensy fluttering dust particles catching the moons’ light before he focuses on the upside-down clock on the wall.

the young duke drags himself back into the situation at hand.

your hand that was once at his tie had traveled to his shoulders, pressing him firmly against the back of the couch. your little rocking bucks of your hips were endearing, heavily contrasting the irritated creasing of your brows.

it was cute how you thought you could jerk him around and pin him to the soft cushions behind him, but he’d let that slide for now.

“compliments will get you nowhere, your grace.” you hiss his title in his face, half-genuine venom seeping into your tone. your slow yet methodical pace had come to a complete halt, ceasing the pleasure building in his exhausted bones. he quirks a brow at the sass thrown in his face and he grins.

tiredly, his chest heaves as he exhales, centering himself. wriothesley licks at his lips at the sight of you confidently handing him your iciest glare in quite some time.

sure, you were pissed, and he knew that. but could you expect him to take you seriously when you looked that cute when you were mad? could you expect him to focus with the way your cunt’s walls fluttered around his dick?

“‘m sorry,” he starts, his head rolling to the side as he eyes your form caging him against the way-too-small couch in your quaint home in the fontainian countryside.

your thighs had unconsciously relaxed against his, continuing to smear your arousal on the pants you were too impatient to allow him to remove when you found him resting on the living couch.

earlier, when you stormed over to demand where he had been, he peered from under his draped arm to sheepishly explain he didn’t want to slide into bed with you. he argued you’d wake up and he’d hate to disrupt your rest.

currently, his hands slid onto your thighs, giving them a firm squeeze and he sighed with glee at how your walls twitched around him. the warden gave you a genuine softly smile, hoping to disarm the metaphorical knife at his neck. he certainly did not need another scar marring that area, even if you did think they were oddly attractive.

you simmer at the way his stormy eyes seemed to flicker guilt before his lovesick gaze took over. he drummed his fingers on your legs. he continued his words when your sharp gaze seemed to falter, providing him an opening to deliver the go-to blow you despised hearing.

“there was an emergency–“

when he saw you open your mouth to retort that there was always an emergency, he tuts and swats his wrapped hand onto your ass. his soft smile grows into a wolfish grin, “let me finish, doll.” he laughs lowly, sinking into the couch, combing his fingers through his matted hair as he makes himself comfy under you. you watched his ear-like tufts smoosh under his roving hands, only to stubbornly perk up once he finished.

under the moonlight, he watched his hands seemingly waltz on the supple flesh of your body, similar to two mechs he had seen in the overworld.

his hands trailed up and down, admiring your dips and curves as he enjoyed the feel of you on the pads of his fingers. you always felt so soft in comparison to the scarred, rough skin on his body. every part of you was a delight to explore and he hummed appreciatively throughout his trek. wriothesley thought the moonlight on the surface tended to illuminate you best.

breaking the silence, your next words lacked bite and the man was never one to not take advantage of an opening.

with goosebumps erupting on your skin, you shivered and muttered, “better hurry up before-“

“before what, hm?” he jumps in with a grin, suddenly tightening his grip on your body as he begins to press you onto his cock. you and the couch both whine at his ministrations. the seating was too rickety for shit like this and you felt the blunt tip of his cock harshly kiss against the deepest part of your core.

“if you’d let me finish, i was going to say there was a genuine emergency.” he murmurs, his fingers doodling on the supple flesh on your body. “would you believe it if i said monsieur neuvillette was involved? ask him tomorrow if you don’t believe me.” the dark-haired man whispers, his hands traveling yet again to press against the small of your back. he nudges you close to him, your breasts pressing against his face. he chuckles at his new-found fortune before finally circling his tongue around one of your hardened nipples.

with a hitched breath, you gingerly rake through his soft hair. “a-ah, i suppose if… he was involved, it must have been serious…” you shudder and respond absentmindedly, your anger and resolve beginning to melt at his touch. he hums and releases the nub with a quiet pop, resting his cheek against the flushed flesh of your skin.

ah, you crumble fast.

his eyes wandered over to the small kitchen where his cold dinner was left on the table. all thanks to the issue down in the fortress. normally, he would come home once or twice a week. recently, it dwindled down to once a week and this time… he had left you home alone for exactly 12 nights straight.

“exactly. allow me to make it up to you.” he drawls lowly, his eyes flicking up at you for approval. when you give a slow nod, he suddenly roughly yanks you fully onto his cock, forcing you to grind your body against his. he pulled your body close, applying a sickly addictive pressure against your clit as his cock slides all of the way in. when he shoved your hips away, you’d whimper, wordlessly demanding to feel all of him again. wriothesley laughs when your keens morph into pleased, choked moans. biting his tongue, he’d hold back his own sounds when you’d clamp down on him or your pussy nearly drooled in his lap.

you were still straddling the strong man’s lap, your back arching away from him to bare more of yourself to the duke.

“going to ruin my pants. hope you take responsibility.” wriothesley teases. within you, his heavy cock twitched at the warmth you graciously gifted him. from under you, you could feel him steady his legs, planting his feet into the cushions crumpled below. before you could respond, he nipped at your flesh, enjoying the surprised ‘ah!’ you bestowed to his ears.

“i’ll — ah, fuck… ya feel perfect around me — make it up to you,” he grunts, his hips slamming upwards in sync with every word. you stumble forward, one hand resting on his chest and the other gripping his locks, hard. your head flies back and you cry out, and he shudders from the pleasured sting racing through him. from below, the man indulges in your teary glare before he continues his punishing rhythm to send both of you into bliss. each buck of his hips into your wet heat was sinful; the sound of his hips slapping against yours and the couch’s internal frame screeching echoed in his skull.

“s’good for me,” he coos, watching you struggle to steady yourself on his lap. his breath was no longer collected; quiet, stuttered grunts and heavy exhales filled the room each time his hips slapped against yours. shit, the sight of you struggling to take him in and the lewd wails spilling from your lips were divine. “takin’ me so well, sweetheart.”

once he notices you have found some balance against his fast pace, he urges you to sit up straight again, helping you up. wriothesley’s quiet orders of ‘up, up’ and praise about being his ‘good girl’ gave you just enough strength to obey.

he slows down just a notch as one of his hands slides to your lower tummy in hopes to draw languid circles on your neglected clit. on the way down, the duke’s eyes widened when he felt the slightest bulge of his cock, and he laughs in disbelief before thrusting back up into your quivering pussy with renewed vigor.

“shit, sweetheart, you’re so good f’me–“

when you wail at the overwhelming pleasure of the duke fucking you dumb, your body spasms and you pull away, leaning away from him. the man was no artist, but with the way your body seemed to shimmer from the perspiration as his rough fucking made all your gorgeous bits jiggle in response, you were picture perfect on his lap.

but wriothesley was moreso stuck on something else. something activated in his brain when he felt his cock through you and all he wanted to feel was to feel that again.

his thumb made their small laps around your nub, messily smearing your juices. his other hand tightened its bruising grip on your waist and fuck, he had hope that was going to leave a mark.

“so good for me, my love.” he repeats with a pant, his eyes darting around, struggling to decide on what part of your body he wanted to sear into his mind to replay during lonely nights deep under the sea.

your breasts that shook with each of his harsh thrusts?

the expanse of your cute tummy and the way his cock seemed to absolutely ruin – no, wait – enhance that sight?

or maybe the way your thighs seemed to have gone slack, allowing him to effortlessly buck up into you like his own pretty fucktoy?

your pretty cunt wrapping around his hard cock was a sight to behold, especially when he could catch the faintest of your juice splattering every time his hips met yours. “w-wrio…!” you cry out in response, feeling his cock ruthlessly bully the spongy spot within you. the wolfish man seemed to have made his decision and his eyes drilled at the slick coating where you were joined. he also stared at the cute little bump on tummy, as that was something he needed to worship. if he wasn’t abusing your g-spot, the tip of his cock was kissing your cervix. that dull ache from the size of him had long expired and—

“‘m’sorry,” he grits out, “should’ve never left ya home for so long,” his hand hastily flies to your back to hug you close to his body, his thrusts long losing their refined rhythm. your soft chest squished against his firm one and god, that was just the cherry on top of the soon-to-be creampie.

his arms wrapped around your body, caging you against him to take every buck of his hips into your warm cunt.

with your cries and begs to “p-please, make me cum make me cum make me—” so close to his ear, he was hurdling straight towards the edge all thanks to you. the quiet night on the countryside was absolutely tainted by the sin coming from this small cottage. now, he was frantically burying himself in you, chasing release that was not too far away. “s-shit, pussy this good d-deserves to be–!”

you muffle your increasing moans at the crook of his neck, but before he can demand you to moan louder for him, you sloppily attach your mouth to a sensitive scar, clamping your teeth down on the flesh and he whimpers and shudders under you.

he blinks hard to rid his sight of the fireworks speckling his vision and he laughs breathlessly, “tryin’ to mark me up, pretty girl? fuck.” his eyes were glassy with tears from the juxtaposing pleasure and pain clouding his brain.

he was babbling, reciprocating your cries with his own rough groans into your ear as his orgasm was quickly approaching, “gonna fill you up, never shoulda left you alone—“

…how can a man go back to jerking off in a dimly lit office at the bottom of the sea?

simple. he can’t.

he might just ask if you want to become a new resident of the fortress.

not as an inmate, of course.

actually… if you were an inmate, would he get to use the cuffs?

#kunikuma’s fics #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x reader smut #wriothesley x y/n #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader smut

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ashersanity · 2 months

Text

— “Drunk already? I wouldn’t have pinned you for a light weight.”

-> content warning! alcohol intoxication, top m alpha! reader x bratty omega in heat, stupid cockwhore bitch craves for cock but doesn’t get it.

Turning someone into your little cockwhore bitch, there’s nothing sweeter than that — than the otherwise self-assured look in their eyes turned to one that’s dazed and pleading.

Fuck, if it weren’t for the numerous drinks simmering in his system, drumming along his veins that had his head swim, he wouldn’t be in this position. No, damn it. He wouldn’t be here, visible flush streaked across his cheeks with the obvious, heady scent of arousal lingering in the air. His interested, omegan cock stirring between his spread legs, knees clumsily knocking against yours beneath the wooden counter. Nor would he be the one to lean just a bit, in your direction, intently fixated on your parting lips with every swallow you take, each and every bob of your throat that curves along nicely down, alcohol pleasantly burning. It was a mistake in itself, to think he’d out drink you, looking perfectly fine in comparison to him who supported his chin atop his palm, gently swaying back and forth.

Shit, he hated you. He hated you so damn much that he’d catch himself staring at your glistening mouth each and every time, bubbling frustration slowly shifting into one of needy arousal, a need for your cock in his throat, ass, wherever he could touch it, smell it even. Maybe if you were so generous, you’d let him have a go at it, pathetically slide himself onto his knees so he could paw at your bulge, suck on the rough fabric of your jeans where your fat, knotted cock comfortably sat underneath. Bastard didn’t deserve to get a proper taste anyway. Only a curl of your finger shoved up his pulsing, dripping hole would have him cumming all over himself like a whore regardless, desperately bucking his hips into your touch to reach your split knuckles. Hell, he’d even be fine with you towering over him, grip tightening onto his face with your fingers greedily digging into the soft of his flesh, harshly spitting into his awaiting mouth, pink tongue peeking out. However, you do none of that. Instead, you lean into his space, pressing your lips against the shell of his ear, heated breaths quickened, audible over the bustling pub and noisy patrons surrounding you.

— “I could ruin you if I wanted to. Fuck you, right here, right now. Have everyone see, what a needy little cum slut you are for my cock.”

Exhaling shakily, his eyes flutter shut at the drum of your voice, letting the words sink in, slicked, wet hole miserably tightening around nothing. Dammit, he wants you, wants you so fucking bad to mess him up, to have him bent over the flat surface as you fuck your cum into him, reddened ass on display for all the hungry, perverted alphas to leer upon.

— “But I won’t. I’ll just let you rut into your pillow like the nasty, fucking whore that you are.”

..You fucking tease.

whitney, remy, avery, ryomen sukuna, geto suguru, toji fushiguro, scaramouche, kaveh, kaeya alberich, satan (whb), reo mikage, micheal kaiser, sae itoshi, more?

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screampied · 2 months

Note

Fighting for dominance w yuki 🙏🏽

❤︎ ໋𓈒 trying to top yuki (you fail)

warnings. fem! reader, praise, doggy, dirty talk, she has a strap, petnames. mdni.

“oh. what’s this, baby?” yuki whispers, her eyes flicker towards your hovering body. her stare made you swallow. her legs remained spread, and she had a cunning grin tugging against his lips. she eyed your figure up and down before raising a eyebrow once you lightly shove her back. “you’re getting ahead of yourself. you’re gonna try to ride me?”

“yeah,” you utter, glancing down at her clear lengthy strap—you were already prepped, just barely getting over your last release from her eating you out.

as she tilted her head towards the side with a cheeky smile, you could still see some of your own slick running down her chin. “you don’t think i can?”

she giggles. “sweetheart, i never said that,” and she runs a hand across her thigh, watching you prepare to align yourself against the plump tip. “. . . although,” she breaks, teasingly staring off in the other direction, still manspread with her arms now stretched across the sides of the mattress. “i dunno, you couldn’t really take me if you tried. besides, you always end up tapping out.”

your eyes widen as you grew flustered before grumbling, “s-shut up.”

“aw. how ‘bout ya make me? otherwise i’ll just keep talking, princess.” she snickers, softly tracing her fingers down your waist just to get a reaction out of you.

she had the smuggest grin smeared on her face, watching you start to sink down on the strap-on.

“don’t hurt yourself now,” she giggles, eyeing you the entire time—you bit down on your lip, trying to suppress as much mind as you could, and she only simpers wider. “want me to hold your hand?”

“y-yuki,” you whined, putting a hand over her mouth. she playfully licks against your fingers, feeling you hover against the tip—you moan, your pussy gripping around the faux material before you jerked into her inwards. “stop talking.”

“not unless you make m—”

she gets cut off from the softness of your lips. you feel the smile still on his lips. she tastes sweet, candied even. yuki runs a hand down your hips as you gradually started to rut against her.

you ran your tongue against hers, tasting a tang of alcohol on her before you let off a whimper once she grips onto your ass.

she’s panting the more you deepened the kiss, she found it cute and you trying to show a bit more dominance—yet you were already failing. strands of her hair tickled against your skin the more your warm body heat made direct contact with hers.

the taste of her lip gloss had you hooked for more, the pure strawberry that resided against her lips. you moaned in your mouth before your hips started to pick up.

she briefly pulls away, a lustrous cobweb string of spit departing from your mouth and she stares at you.

“why can’t you look at me, princess?” she hums, grabbing ahold of your chin—you leer into her eyes before feeling butterflies swell in inside your tummy. she sneaks a wet kiss against your mouth as your hips rolled back and forth against her. “do i make you nervous?”

“no.” you immensely replied, feeling the continuously expand through your walls. it felt so good, you couldn’t help but moan all against her ear.

“no . . ?” she repeats, her tone was purely playful. yuki chuckles beside you before allowing her hands to roam all over your body—you shudder from the warmth of her touch before she whispers against your ear. “i’m a lot of things, sweetheart but i’m not an idiot,” and then she brings you close towards her chest.

you lean into her touch, thighs of yours rubbing against hers solely from your jagged body movements and she kisses near the inner part of your neck.

“you’re cute when you try to be all . . ” and she pauses for a moment, thinking of the word before tittering. “dominate.”

she studies your face, and you’re pouting. “pretty girl. don’t be so disappointed,” and she kisses you again — a quick kiss that never fails to leave you speechless everytime. “you want me to finish for you, hm?”

you sheepishly nod, stopping yourself from moving against the toy buried inside of you before she smiles, stroking your left cheek.

“at least you’re finally honest, baby,” she whispers, matching your pout before a small chortle leaves her lips. “c’mon, let’s do this the right way, yeah?”

she was so gentle—yet you found yourself pressed against the cushioned pillows, maintaining a swift arch and she towers over you even while being on her knees. yuki rubs a hand against your ass, caressing it as your cheek squished against the couch. “how do you want it, princess? tell me.”

“h-hard, yuki. jus’ make me cum.” you whined, not even caring anymore by this point.

“ooh,” she purrs, watching your back just go forward—your ass remained up and you were craving for her to inside again. you swallowed the nonexistent lump in your throat before feeling her gently prod the fat tip of the toy against your frontage. “say pretty please.”

you whine, wriggling your ass against the head part just for her to hurry up, “p-pretty please.”

“good girl,” she hums, her words went straight towards your cunt. you throbbed vigorously, aching for more of her touch. it wasn’t a want, it was a need. she’s slow as she starts to make her way inside again.

yuki lets off a soft groan, feeling you clamp down with such ease. once your thighs tapped against hers, she kissed her teeth before starting up a pace. “thaaaat’s it, baby. let me—let me take care of you.”

you moaned at the sweetness of her words, she was so deep—your eyes rolled back within seconds of her only delivering a few thrusts. she was tame yet grabbed both of your hips, slowly making sure you felt every inch.

“fuck,” she utters, hearing the sloppy squelches of your pussy voice all against her. yuki’s breathing started to become a bit raspy, quiet but very much raspy.

she always kept her eyes on your ass, she could never look away. the mere shape of it . . .

she ran her fingers across it while she’s fucking you dumb. such deep yet slow thorough strokes had you whining out her name loudly. she pulses from your words of pleasure everytime, but of course she never shows it.

this was all about you.

“you’re so pretty like this,” she hisses, bringing a few spanks to your ass to watch it jiggle—you whined, back arching a bit more for her and she playfully skims her hands down your spine to watch you jolt in pleasure. “how’s it feel, princess? lemme guess should i go harder?”

“p-please,” you squeak out, your head just mashed against the pillows.

she giggles, softly reaching down against your clit to create even more stimulation, earning out a surprised whimper from you.

“i know my girl well,” and then you feel her start to quicken up her hips. she’s reaching all the right spots, the angle was perfect. you felt the length of the toy continue to stretch out your pussy, leaving such a good taste in your mouth. “and to think you could have been topping me, hehe. we all start from somewhere, i guess.”

after a while you lost track of time, like most would.

you started to shake against her and she takes notice. yuki raises a brow before pressing all up against your ass, she’s fully inside and you moan at the warmth of her going against you. “is someone gonna cum? that why ya keep tryin’ to grab onto my leg, sweetheart—?”

the toy was so thick, your pussy made just as much noise as you did. cacophonies of mixed squelches that reverberated throughout the room. it felt so good . . . you clenched your jaw as you felt a hidden bundle of nerves make their way to stir you from the inside.

it’s a long pause as she’s still fucking you—you were a mess, strands of spit running down your mouth before she sings in a seductive tone, “well . . ?” she rubs a thumb against your bare ass whilst watching it jerk and move against her before she mutters. “if you want somethin’ from me, you gotta use your words. go on.”

“—wan’ cum, yuki,” you sniffled, your core was being filled with such inches. your ears rang and you could taste the sweetened orgasm on your tongue practically. “wanna cum, please. please let me c-cum . . ”

“good,” she hums cooingly. each praise she gifted you made you throb ten times more. you feel her grab your ass, scooting it directly towards her before she huffs out a single breath. “good girl. now give it to me, c’mon. don’t be shy. let go just for me, yeah.”

you moaned, feeling her pin your arms behind your back as she’s thrusting in and out of you.

instantly, you felt your legs intensely shake from the incoming rapture—you were simply dumb and close-mouthed. tongue tied even, your orgasm came crashing down on you and she watched as you’re just a mess, cute whines eliciting from your mouth.

your slick covered her faux base entirely, and she licks her lips while watching you ride it out—you panted, feeling her hips come to a stop before seconds later, she slowly pulls out. “aw. you’re so loud, baby. i told you.”

words of silence departed from your lips before she flips you over, pulling you into a deep, loving kiss. yuki’s rough hands gently danced against your skin as she pulled you close, only before you moan into her mouth once you feel her squeeze against your soaked pussy.

“all mine,” she whispers, breaking away to speak before she kisses against the side of your lip to stare you right in the eyes with such a dominant look. “who’s pretty pussy does this belong to, sweetheart?”

“yours, yuki.” you moaned, feeling her chest prick against yours—you felt so hot, in a good way. a smile goes on her lips before she nips at your neck in a playful manner.

“good girl, and it’ll stay that way,” she teases, soft eyes lingering at you for a few good seconds before she brushes a thumb over your wet lips. she leans in as if she’s about to kiss you again before she whispers against your lips. “unless you can ever prove me wrong, sweetheart.”

#★vegasbaby.#yuki tsukumo #yuki jjk #jujutsu kaisen yuki #yuki smut #tsukumo yuki #wlw smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #female reader #anime smut

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hannie-dul-set · 9 months

Text

YOU(R SHOELACES) ARE PRETTY.

p — PARK SUNGHOON x gn! reader. g — fluff, meet cute. w — swearing, secondhand embarrassment because sunghoon doesn't know how to to talk to cute people. 706 words.

note — park sunghoon is a rizzless loser pass it on. PART TWO. if you enjoy loser! hoon, you might also enjoy this other series of mine.

you only came along with your friends to the skatepark because you had nothing better to do, but now you’re starting to regret that decision because for some reason— while you’re sitting on the stands all by yourself, minding your own damned business because you don’t know how to fucking skate— you’ve caught the attention of six to seven guys who don’t look very friendly.

what the hell? why are they staring? sweat starts to wet your palms as you duck down to untie and retie your shoelaces because their staring was really starting to make you uncomfortable. they look like a group of freaking delinquents. they’re definitely nothing but trouble.

but you regret taking your subtle glances off of them for a second too long because for some god damned reason, one of them started to roll up to you.

you feign ignorance, playing with the laces on your other foot because maybe he isn’t skating to your direction. maybe he’s going to make a turn to the ramps or some shit. maybe he’s just passing by and— of fuck, he’s literally three feet away from you now, and he’s got an ice cold face, and a very terrifying scowl, and he looks like he’s about to curb stomp you three feet into the ground.

he’s leering down at you with his hands in his pockets, posture leaned slightly back and confident. his thick eyebrows are slightly furrowed with a frown that’s housing a lollipop stick. he’s handsome, but he looks like he wants to fight you. he’s pretty, but he also looks like he’d call you a pretty stupid bitch. the kuromi band-aid on his cheek doesn’t make him any less intimidating. he takes out the lollipop from his with a pop!

you wince, ready to piss yourself in fear until you hear him say, “h—hey.”

his voice cracks. you look up.

“i think you’re— i think you—” you failed to notice the red staining his neck earlier, nor the sweat nervously trickling down his forehead. you should’ve known he’d be harmless from the cute bandaid decorating his cheek. all the fear you felt is melted every time he stumbles on his words, every time his cheeks grow increasingly pinker by the second, until he gives up and turns around to yell at the group he separated from to tell them to, “shut the fuck up!”

they’re cheering him on, “you can do it, sunghoon!” you’re more confused than you’ve ever been.

the guy you assume is named sunghoon snaps his head back down to face you, brows that were once knitted in annoyance quickly scrunching into a nervous jitter and he measures up a smile that matches his confidence— faltering and falling apart. you’re starting to feel bad.

“i just...i just wanted to say that i think you’re really—”

go on, you encourage him with a nod. you can do it. maybe you shouldn’t have tried to help him, because the moment you give him an assuring smile, ten million emotions flash through his face at once— shock, fluster, panic in shades of pink, rose, and cherry— until he ultimately settles with defeat when he sinks his head down with a pair of hands covering his face, but he can’t hide the color tinting his ears.

“i think...your shoelaces are pretty.”

his voice is muffled. he looks like he wants the ground to eat him.

“thank you?”

“no problem.”

sunghoon spins around, puts the lollipop back into his mouth, and kicks the ground once before letting the momentum from the roller skates slide him back to the direction where he came from, but he’s sliding slowly and pitifully enough for you to hear the, “oh god, oh no, i’m so fucking stupid, oh no—” sputtering from his mouth in quiet grumbles and hisses as his friends continue to cheer him on from a distance.

the back of his neck is still searing red. when he reaches his friends you watch as his legs give up and he sinks into the ground with a cry of anguish.

maybe you shouldn’t have judged the poor guy too quickly. maybe he just wanted to tell you that he thinks you(r shoelaces) are pretty.

YOU(R SHOELACES) ARE PRETTY.

#violently pathetic coding sunghoon anyone who disagrees can fight me for it idc idc he may be a loser but he's MY loser #enhypen x reader #enhypen sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon imagines #sunghoon imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon fluff #sunghoon fluff

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sprout-fics · 7 months

Text

Poly TF141 x Omega!

(Poly TF14 x F! Omega Reader)

(Part Fourteen: Shared)

Tags: Omegaverse, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Hidden designations, Alpha! John Price, Alpha! Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Beta! Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, Omega! John 'Soap' MacTavish, Omega F! Reader, Group dynamics, Poly TF141, Slow burn, Cuddling, Brat! John 'Soap' Mactavish, Bottom! Soap MacTavish, Soap x Reader, Omega! Soap x Omega! Reader, Accidental voyeurism, Simon Ghost Riley x Reader, Alpha! Simon Ghost Riley x Omega! Reader, Cunnilingus, Face riding, Dom Simon Ghost Riley, Alpha traits, Handjobs, Praise kink, Threesome, Making out while getting railed, General debauchery

Masterlist

You’re sitting on Soap’s face when it happens

The other omega has coaxed you into his room after hours, slinging an arm around your shoulder in the mess at dinner and playfully nipped at your ear when the others weren’t looking. It hadn’t taken much convincing on his part, and like a schoolgirl you had been led off hand in hand with him, giggling girlishly to hide your hammering heartbeat

Hands roaming over clothes, sloppy kisses and teasing little jabs that left you hazy eyed and pouting, tangling your fingers in his mohawk to drag him closer to your parted lips. You taste his laugh there, feel his fingers tickle your sides until you squirm and smack at him playfully

He’s in a good mood tonight, you think. You’re not sure what it is, but Soap’s leering grin speaks of mischief, secrets untold that are stifled by his panting little breaths when he rolls his groin between your thighs

You’re flushed, damp with arousal by the time you’re both undressed. He hauls you up onto his chest, and you feel the smear of your slick catch against the coarse hair between his pectorals. He grazes it with lazy fingers, dips them to flick your clit in a way that makes you jerk and bend to bite at his neck in retribution

Eventually he encourages you upwards, so you hover over his face, gripping the headboard with uncertainty.

“A can take it.” He moans under you, hands fastening to your thighs as he prepares himself. “Bloody hell, hen, go on, please.”

You hesitate just a little longer to hear him whine, see his pupils dilate and eclipse his baby blue irises before lowering yourself down

It takes a few moments for you both to settle into a rhythm, and eventually you’re holding the headboard in a steel grip, chin tucked to your chest and moaning openly at Johnny’s skilled tongue

You’re so caught it in you almost don’t hear the door open

It’s only when the fluorescent light of the hallway slants across your naked form that you suck in a startled gasp, freeze atop the omega under you

Ghost.

Ghost stands in the doorway, his hand still on the knob, eyes wide under the simpler balaclava he’s wearing. He’s startled, unsure, frozen to the spot, and in his eyes you imagine your own aghast expression

It’s only then that Johnny lifts you up far enough he can peek over your thigh

“Bleedin’ Christ, Ghost. Come in an’ close the door.”

Ghost moves automatically, albeit slowly, but nevertheless obeys the other omega’s instructions. The door clicks shut behind him, and he stands a little stiffly just before it

Yet his eyes are different now. They stare, long and hard, dark pupils weighing against your skin, drinking it down greedily, silent and hungry

There’s silence for a few moments before Johnny pipes up again

“Well don’t just stand there, ya big numpty.”

Ghost moves at last, and you watch transfixed as he sheds his jacket, his boots, his gloves that reveal his bare hands. With every inch of flesh revealed to you his scent becomes thicker, washing over you in waves that makes your eyes flutter and your skin shiver

He smells like charcoal, like gun oil, like thick smoke acrid and somehow sweet against your senses. His eyes, pitched dark with desire, watch as you suck in a ragged breath and drink in the undeniable scent of alpha

“Look at you, pet.” He rumbles as he approaches the bed, not touching. Not yet. Instead his hands land on Johnny first, bare palms grazing up the thick meat of his thighs. The omega shivers under you, and as you glance over your shoulder you see the tell-tale bead of precum betraying his lust to his mate

It should feel like you’re intruding, somehow. You should excuse yourself, hasten to dress and leave. But Johnny’s hands are clenched around your thighs where you perched atop his broad chest, and when you glance at him you see a lovely rosy flush creep up his neck and towards his ears

“Johnny been treating you well, love?” Ghost asks, and you raise your eyebrows at the touch of cockiness in his tone, a pride at his mate being able to satisfy the needs of those he chooses. The suggestion of it makes your skin erupt in goosebumps, and it’s hard to speak around the sudden tightness in your throat

“Course I am.” Johnny snips when you don’t speak. “Been getting a facial on mah-”

He cuts off with a choked, surprised little groan, and when you glance back you see Ghost has his hand wrapped around the omega’s length, a thumb neatly slotted against the head.

“I wasn’t asking you, pretty boy.”

Soap whines

“Ghost…” He tries, squirming. A firm hand on his thigh keeps him still.

“Are you going to behave, Johnny?” Ghost acts, low and sinful, and you bite your lip at the sudden trickle of arousal that pools between your legs at his tone

“A-aye. I’ll be good.” Soap manages, and his hands grip your thighs a little harder when Ghost hums and drags a hand up his length in appreciation

“Good boy.”

Soap makes a little sound, and you neatly file that note away in your brain for later

Ghost moves, and then pauses, and you glance over his shoulder to see him hesitating, eyes tracing from the small of your spine up to your face

It’s electrifying, it’s breathless, it’s enough to make your thighs close a little tighter around Soap’s form under you

“You can touch me, Ghost.” You offer in a hoarse whisper, watching as his eyes focus on yours, his coal-dark stare burning into your veins. “Please.”

It seems like that was what Ghost was waiting for, was the permission he needed to touch you, unravel you

“Sweet thing.” He purrs, and you barely swallow down a noise not unsimilar to the one Johnny just made. His scent floods your senses, has your limbs loosening on instinct, heeding to the strong, capable alpha before you

His hands cup your waist, and you shiver under his touch, leaning back as he settles himself on the bed. You feel his reach to ruck up his mask to his nose, and somehow it thickens his scent even further

Broad palms splay across your skin, and you reach back to drag his face against your neck, arching submissively so he can nose at your scent gland

Ghost moans, low in his chest, and the sound is primal, hungry, absorbed in the slow, sure process of defiling you

Yet then Ghost moves, turns your head with one broad palm at an angle to press a kiss askew to your mouth, one that has you shuddering an exhale against his lips

It’s after the first contact that he moves in earnest, suckling at your lip, swiping his tongue into your mouth, a little clumsy but enthusiastic, dizzying with desire, tilting you at an angle so he can delve deeper

“Hells bells.” Soap groans, watching the display from under you. You feel his cock twitch against your ass, one hand reaching up to grope appreciatively at your breast, teasing a nipple between his fingers. When you moan into Ghost’s mouth, the alpha growls faintly, possessive, carnal, his teeth bared for just a moment against your lips

You think if you get any wetter it might start leaking off Johnny’s chest

“Bend over for me, love.” Ghost murmurs into your shoulder, and you do, pressing yourself flat so your chest squishes up against Soap’s torso. You catch sight of the omega’s eyes, a wicked, knowing smile creeping up his face. Silent. Eager.

“Just you wait.” It seems to say

His hand settles at your nape. A reassuring squeeze, and your eyes flutter in relief

Thick fingers probe at your entrance, and when you mewl Ghost lays a hand against your hip. Grounding, tender

“”Little omega.” He croons, amused, and it’s startling, the amount of affection in his tone. “Look at all this.”

Two fingers easily slip inside you, and you bury your face against Johnny’s neck in embarrassment when they squelch

“Pretty thing, isn’t she, LT?” Soap asks smugly, stroking a hand across your curved spine as you settle into presentation atop the other omega. Ghost hums an affirmative. A little dark, a touch of a growl reverberating low in his chest

Soap huffs a laugh, and gently shifts you so he can press a slow, languid kiss to your lips

“Alpha is going to take care of you now, sweetheart.” He tells you huskily, and you cling to him a touch shyly, glancing over your shoulder at Ghost with half-lidded eyes

“A-alpha…” You try weakly, feeling him spread you open curiously on his fingers. “Please…please fuck me.”

Ghost stiffens as a shudder rolls bodily through him, and swiftly you watch as he manages to fish himself out of the pants he never took off

Gods above you think, eyes widening. How is that supposed to fit?

Ghost must sense your apprehensiveness, because the hand at your hip circles in slow, gentle circles

“You can take it, pup.” Johnny murmurs into your neck, caught in rapt fascination as Ghost drags a hand up his length so precum beads at the tip “Nice and easy.”

You force yourself to relax as Ghost presses the head between your folds, steadying yourself as he slowly pushes forward

“Eyes here, love.” Ghost murmurs softly, and Johnny presses a kiss to your cheek as he braces you against his collarbone. It’s warm. Ghost can see your hazy-eyed stare as he pushes home inside you just as you let out a shuddering little gasp, eyes rolling back

“F-fuck, Ghost-” You managed, fingers digging into Johnny’s shoulders as you breathe through the electrifying sensation of fullness inside you

“Simon.” Ghost grunts, fingers on your hips, one hand pressing the small of your spine to arch you to him. “Call me Simon.”

“Simon.” You mewl, gasping wetly when he drags just the tiniest bit back before rolling his hips forward experimentally

“Doing well, sweetheart.” Soap tells you huskily, and you can only imagine how turned on he is by this, by the sight of his alpha fucking you while you splay across his chest. The mere thought of it has a pulse of arousal thundering through you, once that escapes as a lecherous groan muffled by his neck. You press yourself there, drinking in his scent with panting little breaths as Simon begins to pull back and fuck forward with firm, rolling presses

“How’s she feel, Si?” Johnny asks, and even though you don’t look you can imagine his cheeky grin at the way Simon is huffing little grunts as he sheathes himself inside you over and over

“Good.” Simon growls, and despite the curt answer you can hear how he’s becoming undone by the velvety grip of your walls, grinding you open so there’s a place for him there

The slow, sensuous rolls of his hips quickly become not enough, and soon you find yourself presses back against him, trying to fuck yourself onto his cock with gasping little whimpers

“Simon.” You manage again. “More, please, a-alpha-”

Simon’s voice is caught somewhere between a groan and a growl, but he seems happy to oblige to your request, picking up his pace with firm, precise thrusts that have you melting into Johnny beneath you

“Oh, pup, look at you.” The other omega croons, and raises you so he can press fluttering kisses against the planes of your face as your voice is reduced to mewling, keening noises with every thrust. “Taking alpha’s cock like a good little omega. So good for him.”

You whine at that, trying to find the words but finding yourself empty, puddling across his torso as Simon begins to fuck into you in earnest. One hand holds you up by your hips, presenting you to him, the other flat on your back, splayed so you can feel each finger pressing into your flesh. With every thrust he drags you to him, skin slapping skin as he ruts into you with huffing, growling little noises

You jerk with a little cry as he finally grazes that sensitive bundle of nerves inside you, and Simon pauses long enough to gently rub against it again with the head of his cock

You moan again, shivering with wrecked arousal as he hones in on it, feeling weakness pulse across your hips and the full pressure of your impending orgasm loom in the distance. Your fangs have poked out, and you try not to teeth your lip to shreds as Simon resumes his pace, aiming for your g-spot

“Oh good, good girl.” He groans as your walls flutter around him, and when you look back you see his fangs are out too, head leaning back as he loses himself, fucking forward with ragged inhales, drawing you closer to your climax

“Gonna cum, pup?” Johnny asks you, and you nod feverishly against his skin, moans stuttering as you near the peak of your desire

“S-Simon-'' You chant, trying to press back, trying to force him further inside. “I- ah, hah, I’m gonna cum, hah, hmmmng- wanna cum, please alpha-”

Simon leans over you then, presses himself to your spine so his nose presses into your nape with a deep inhale. His voice is a low, commanding growl that speaks of alpha authority, of demand and desire and carnal instinct rolled all into one

“Cum. Cum for me, little omega.”

It takes a few more thrusts but you do, you open your mouth and feel a punched-out, wrecked sound spill forth as your orgasm explodes inside you, fracturing outwards along every nerve ending, centering itself in the pulsing grip of your cunt as it ripples down the length of his cock

“Fuck, fuck-” Simon grunts above and behind you, one arm snaking under your stomach to hold you up as your legs give out, hips thrusting wildly forward before he finally presses himself deeply inside and lets himself go

Warm ropes of cum pulse inside you, and the warmth of it settles below your stomach, spilling out around his cock and he seems to cum endlessly, alpha genetics forcing himself to fill you far beyond what omegas or betas are capable of

You feel him growl, long and dark against your shoulder as you milk him dry, teething your skin in an imitation of a claiming bite

He waits until you’ve settled before pulling out, and you feel the remnants of him drip lewdly between your thighs as you shiver

“Fuck me.” Soap groans under you, and it’s only then that you realize how tight he’s holding you. “Fucking hell, LT, you’ve ruined her.”

“Only in the best of ways.” Simon chuckles with a rasp, soothing a hand up your spine. “You alright, pup?”

You roll your head so you can look at him, smiling dolly, body heavy and sated. “I’m good, I’m really good.” You tell him hoarsely, before sighing into Johnny’s chest

“We’re not done.”

You blink at that, brow scrunching as you try to ask him what he means, before Soap jerks under you with a sharp cry

“B-bloody hell, Simon, give a man some warning before you- oh, shite-”

You watch, entranced as Simon drags his hand up Soap’s flushed cock with little preamble, pausing long enough to collect slick from the other omega’s dripping hole before resuming his ministrations.

Any other wry comment Soap has to offer quickly erases to nothing as the alpha quickly fists his mate’s cock. Soap squirms under you, offering keening little whines and pleas as Ghost quickly draws him towards a fast paced, unstoppable orgasm

“S-Si please, yes, fuck-” He groans. “Fuck, feels good, oh God-”

The schlick schlick schlick of Simon’s hand pulses low within you, somehow reignites the flame of desire that had burned to embers. You press it into Johnny’s lips with a kiss, feeling how he pants into your open mouth, fangs gently scraping against your flesh

“C-close-” He rasps, arching under you so his hips buck up into Simon’s hand. “J-just a little more- God, God-”

“That’s it, Johnny.” Simon purrs, pleased. “Go on and cum for me.”

Soap lets loose with a muffled shout, his head bent forward into you as he arches and shoots himself all across Simon’s hand and your lower back, cock twitching as his orgasm punches through him. You can tell it’s intense by the way his voice trails off to a long, lingering whine, hips stuttering as Simon works him through it

“Beautiful, Johnny.” You smile, happy to return the favor of his mild teasing, and Johnny manages something between a gasp and a laugh, raising you enough to throw an arm over his face

Simon moves his weight off the bed then, and when you glance up you see he’s vanished in the direction of the bathroom, returning shortly with a washcloth to wipe the mess of fluids from your forms

Before he can finish you gently reach for him, coax him into the bed with you. He obliges, shuffles so you’re all laying on your sides pressed together. Him, his two precious omegas, and you between the men who have decided to keep you

You think you should say something, should speak a few words of thanks, of endearments, of something to show your affection and appreciation for these two men, but no words seem to be quite right for the fluttering happiness in your chest, safely ensconced in their embraces

Instead you find Simon’s hand, raise it so you press a kiss into his knuckles, listen to him release a breath before fully sinking into you. Johnny grazes your face, smiles tenderly with his beautiful blue eyes before lifting himself to kiss your forehead

You’re safe here, protected, comforted by these two men who will someday become your mates. You think you know how the story ends, in this moment, know someday you’ll see it unfurl in all of its stunning, prismatic color

Taglist:

(Please have an 18+ or similar age disclaimer in your bio to be tagged in this fic)

@alicesfracturedmirror @emrzennn @scatter-mind001 @josieguts @angryvengeful @ramadiiiisme @mutuallimbenclosure @waves-against-a-cliff @sunnynomoar @miyabilicious @piratesfromspace @sofasoap @soapskneebrace @writeforfandoms @waltzthegenderfluidpan @ghosts-goldendoodle @cherrycoloredfunk86 @lostagoodcigar @tbrfic @appleschloss @tizylish @misshoneypaper @kkinky @reaper-chan666 @kenma-izhu @shinebright2000 @zalyluvvs @neoarchipelago @essencse @dankest-farrik @mirthlxss @bi-witch-bxtch @tallmanlover @vinithechocolatevampire @blackcat9091 @tiredmetalenthusiast @tizylish @miyabilicious @secretliteradite @ghosts-goldendoodle @angryvengeful @miraclesabound @lostagoodcigar @wolfyland07 @beebeechaos @kait-is-always-late @rv3rblog @cr3ampuffed @lazyninjaphilosopher @capawtine @sofasoap @cathnoneofyourbusiness @whynotbad @fake-id-69 @mememe7147 @thriving-n-jiving @urfavsunkissedleo

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#soapghost x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #Simon ghost riley x reader #cod omegaverse #omegaverse #my fic #my writing

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007reid · 7 months

Text

187. spencer reid (18+)

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: you're dealing with a dumb, whiny boy and you are wondering where your boy genius went.

warnings: 18+, sub!spencer & dom!reader, dumbification, whining, whimpering, overstimulation, handjob, orgasm denial, begging..you know the rest ;)

a/n: this is a result of too much ai spencer tiktok edits....wrote in a rush on my phone late at night but that's how fanfiction are meant to be written. enjoy angels <3 requests are open if anyone want to drop by!

“okay spencer, this is an easy one. can you answer it for me baby?" you pause expectantly, and it takes him a while, but spencer only mewls in response, frustrated. "what states are next to louisiana?”

you see spencer’s eyebrows slowly pent up in thought but then he immediately gives up in lieu of letting out another pathetic moan, bucking up uselessly to your fingers. “answer the question baby," you prod sweetly, kissing your words into his cheek.

“i-hnfgg…” he pants breathlessly, eyes shut tight and when they flutter open, they are round with plead. “please, it hurts so bad, please let me cum i—“

you let go of his cock entirely and he whines, trying to shuffle closer so that you would touch him. in response you move away further, smirk at your lips. “be a good boy for me and i will.”

“i am being a good boy for you!” spencer whines, his eyes blown with need and watering, body writhing pathetically against the sheets. his dick is flushed an angry red and you know he’s only several strokes away from coming undone, being so closely attuned to your boy. “i’m being good i—“ his words hitched in his throat as you gently caress only the tip of his cock, teasing.

“the good boy i remember is super smart,” you slide up to him, pressing a leering kiss on his jaw. “the guy has an iq of 187. can you believe that? how rare is that?”

spencer doesn’t answer, his pleas and whines soft and stuck in his throat as he keeps trying to buck up his hips to get more of your touch, but with no avail. “hm? how rare is it spence?”

“i don’t know!” he cries, tears leaking and wetting his pretty lashes. “i—please it hurts so bad, just please let me cum i’ll do anything, please!”

“answer me and i’ll let you cum baby boy,” you say smoothly, removing your hand from him (which elicited a very impatient groan) to spit on your palm before going back again, moving your hand up and down his shaft deliberately slow. you know it drives him crazy, even crazier than he is right now and you soak in the satisfaction of it. “how many people has your kind of genius spence? hm?" you add encouragingly. "get this one right for me and i’ll let you cum baby.”

“i…uhh….” he's slow, and even slower with your hand working and overstimulating his already-sensitive cock. “one out of every hundred million people. 1000 who ever lived,” he finally decides to peel open his eyes again, searching your face for any hint of approval. as a response you flick up your wrist quickly and he nods his head back, an obscene and needy moan coming out of his mouth.

“and the states surrounding louisiana?”

his head snaps back immediately and stares at you in betrayal, like a kid being scammed out of his cookie, completely flustered and debauched. “you said one question!”

“i changed my mind baby,” you soothe, pressing an apology kiss in the corner of his mouth. “the faster you are the faster you get to cum. do you want to cum honey?”

“yes! yes i wanna cum so bad,” he cries, hands coming up to rest lightly at your waist and you can feel the tremble in them. the heavy feeling at the pit of his stomach has been there for at least half an hour now and you’ve just been toying with it, reliving it then bringing the pressure back. now he’s an absolute mess, curly hair sprayed on the pillow and stuck to his forehead, his pretty, delicate face ruined with tear stains, but it just makes him prettier. he’s completely at your mercy, writhing and whimpering and begging you to do something about his looming orgasm and you denying him of it.

“then answer the question baby boy,” you murmur encouragingly in his ear, fingers still teasing him. he’s so sensitive and overstimulated to the point that a single touch can make his entire body jump, so you are careful. too much and he might actually loose it, and you both know this. “you remember it, right spence?” you press, "the question?"

“hnngg,” he whimpers when you start biting on the lobe of his ear, grabbing and squeezing onto the sheets for dear life. “umm…arkansas and… i-i don’t know,” he admits shamefully, then desperately tries to make up for it. “but i got the first one! you said if i get it i could cum. i’ve been such a good boy for you, just this one time, please!” he begs, not in control of what he says anymore and it shows. he’s completely delirious and fucked stupid, and you take pity on him.

“aww, my sweet boy,” you coo sweetly, running your fingers through his messy mop of hair and pulling it away from his face for him. “i’m sorry angel, but if you can’t get it right, you don’t get to cum,” you whisper faux apologetically in his ear. you see when spencer’s eyes widen with horror, and the tears begins to fall freely.

“please,” he begs, his fingers pleadingly reaching out to try to touch you, convince you to change your mind. it’s a foolish and naive attempt, and he knows it too but can’t help taking his chances. he’s desperate for anything. “please, i’ll be so good for you. i’ll be your best boy. i promise. i swear. it hurts so bad y/n please, i cant take it—“

“fine,” you give in, only because you know for a fact that he can't last any longer. really, you're surprised he's managed to make it this long so far; you had already planned his punishment in your mind. your boy deserves his reward.

you speed up your movements and the sounds coming out of his mouth becomes wanton, sobs becomes louder and his whines a pitch higher and he’s strung high like a violin string, ready to snap. “cum for me, pretty boy.”

at your command his body gives out obediently, thick strings of cum spitting out of his cock, painting your hand and his hips, coating at his thighs. he twitches and his thighs tremble weakly as small blurts of cum starts to collect at the tip of his cock and you kiss him during all of it as he cries against your lips. he pants hard, and when you accidentally swipe a finger over him, he whines painfully and inches out the way, sore. when it’s over, he collapses into you, spent.

“thank you,” he says, sounding genuinely grateful, his voice muffled and his face buried in your shoulder. you laugh, fingers smoothing out the mess of his hair, pulling his head back and pressing kisses all over his face. spencer needs the aftercare, especially after being edged on for so long, needs the love and the assurance and the cuddles afterwards. "i love you."

"and i you," you say, smiling when he whines predictably, unsatisfied.

"you gotta say the whole thing," he says, looking mildly upset, lips jutting out and giving you the fattest, most foul and adorable pout, eyes big and searching.

"'m sorry," you weave your fingers with his, and he presses a kiss against your knuckles. "i love you."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid oneshot #dr spencer reid #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #sub spencer reid #sub!spencer #my works

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lovebugism · 8 months

Note

vacation, cocktails, stevie in the tiniest shorts… I mean 😮‍💨

thanks for your request lovey!! — the one where steve takes you to the beach, but him in his bathing suit is the real view (established relationship, smut 18+, 2k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

“My eyes are up here, sweetheart,” Steve jokes as he passes you a cocktail. It’s a red, yellow, and blue colored drink with an orange slice wedged into the top of it. It’s about as tropical as a beachside bar can get.

The rainbow colors match his color-blocked swim trunks, though the fabric is far more muted in hue. They make his tanned skin look that much more golden. You can’t figure out which shade is most his color, though, no matter how hard you ogle.

Steve spent a better part of the day smiling with delight every time he caught you staring. He’d been a bit scared to wear the shorts, in truth. They were far too long to be considered a speedo but revealed more of his thighs than normal trunks did. Then he saw how much you loved them and never wanted to take them off.

“Sorry,” you murmur as you take the blended drink from him. “It’s just… It’s staring me right in the face, babe.”

“Shut up,” Steve huffs out a laugh, descending on the lounge seat next to yours.

You’ve been on vacation for four days now, playing house in his parents’ beachside condo. He wears the bliss of holiday all over him, tanned skin glittering beneath a golden hour sun. He’s almost constantly shirtless because it’s so damn hot out — which has done nothing but give you ample time to leer at his toned torso, dusted with marred scars beneath sprinkles of chestnut hair.

But it’s his thighs that get you. Those goddamn perfect thighs you want to take a bite out of and ride all at once.

No one should look so good in such a tiny pair of shorts. You think it should be a crime, really. And the worst part about all of it is Steve has virtually no idea what he’s doing to you.

He just sits there next to you and laughs at your ogling — like there's anything remotely funny about the heart palpitations he’s giving you just from looking so damn good.

“I’m so glad I got you those shorts,” you confess, mostly to yourself, before sipping at the bendy straw in your cup. The fruity slush cools your warm skin almost instantly.

“Yeah,” Steve hums with a lopsided smile. His rosy lips match the sunburn on his cheekbones. “They fit like a glove, don’t they?”

You know he’s saying that just to tease you, but you nod anyway. “Yes, they do,” you singsong quietly, chewing at the end of your straw and getting lost in your leering.

It makes Steve chuckle to himself. “Alright, babe. Keep it in your pants.”

“I’d love to get into your pants, actually.”

“You’re in rare form today, aren’t you?” Steve wonders through his laughter.

Being beachside looked good on you — being away from Hawkins looked good on you. It’s the first time he’s seen you relax in a while. Like, really relax. No monsters to hunt, no children to run after, no parents to impress. It’s just you and him and an orange sun.

And also a bar that serves alcohol that tastes like juice that you’re currently downing like it’s nothing.

“I’m tipsy and in love,” you shrug. “Sue me.”

Steve smacks his lips against his teeth. “Nah. I’m tipsy and in love, too, so… I guess I can’t really blame you…”

His admission of love makes you smile. You’ve surely heard it a million times now, but your chest sparkles like it’s the very first.

You grow suddenly soft. “Thanks for bringing me here, Stevie…”

His sheepish grin matches your own. “Thanks for coming with me, baby.”

He reaches a hand out towards you — which you take without thinking twice.

His long fingers are warm as they engulf your own. Your arms sway in the inches of space separating the two of you, knuckles gently brushing the white sand beneath you. And even though you’re touching him, you can’t help but crave more.

“You’re so far away,” you observe with a slight pout furrowing your brows.

Steve scoffs a gentle laugh. “I’m literally holding your hand.”

“Yeah, but like…” You trail off as you try to find the words to say — how to say them without sounding pathetic. Your nose scrunches softly with your admission. “I need you…”

“Need me?” he wonders with pinched brows.

He’s concerned at first, because he’s always concerned at first.

He’s been on the defense since 1984. It’s practically in his nature, at this point. It takes him a second to realize you don’t actually need help — that you’re not in Hawkins anymore, and there’s no reason to look over his shoulder.

His honey eyes go wide in realization a moment later. His pink mouth falls softly agape. “Oh. Like, need me, need me?”

You hum with a distant, tipsy smile.

“Need you, need you, need you,” you repeat thrice for effect.

Despite his similar desire that blooms like a flower in his chest, he urges, “Finish your drink first, ‘kay?”

Your pout returns. “Why?”

“‘Cause it was expensive as shit, and I don’t want it going to waste,” he explains with a chuckle.

You nod in return. “Yes, sir…”

Your mouth curls around the straw again. A smile quirks your lips as you watch the boy next to you squirm in his seat — your words having a rather obvious effect on him.

You swallow down the strawberry slush, now turning into a sour lemon, and blink away a brain freeze.

“You okay over there, Stevie?” you tease.

He nods with jutted-out lips. “Mm-hmm. Yep. Perfect.”

—————

One Tropical Rainbow Paradise cocktail later, and Steve’s leading you to his cabana.

It’s more private than a normal one. Far more lavish, too. It’s like a tiny studio apartment — made of three walls and a thick curtain in place of a door. There’s a television hung below the ceiling, a small bed pushed up against the wood, and a clawfoot tub idling on the other side.

You figure you’ll have ample time to ride Steve in the bath later.

Your mouth waters for a taste of him now.

It’s why you fall to your knees no more than a second after you’ve latched the curtain shut.

Steve’s eyes go wide as he watches you. He nearly stumbles backward onto the mattress behind him because the very sight of you makes his legs buckle.

“Whoa, babe— Let me put a pillow under you first—”

“I don’t care about that,” you dismiss with the shake of your head. Your fingers curl around the hem of his trunks as you blink up at him. “Just take your clothes off.”

He nods, rapid and visibly enthusiastic.

You don’t pull his shorts all the way down, just enough to free his half-hard cock. You slip the band beneath his heavy balls and wrap his dick in your hand, wetting your palm with your tongue first to ease the friction.

You work him slowly with your wrist and lick the pearly bead of precum from his flushed tip like it’s muscle memory to you. The rough pad of your tongue flicking over the most sensitive part of him drives him wild. A groan rumbles in his chest, muffled through his clenched jaw and teeth.

“Fuck— These trunks are really doing it for you, huh?” he teases after his fleeting senses return to him.

You blink up at him, only halfway amused. “Be careful, Stevie. I don't know if you noticed, but I have your dick in my hand.”

A crooked grin pulls at his pink lips. “Yeah… Go ahead and put your mouth on it, sweetheart,” he instructs lowly. “Maybe I’ll let you ride it after— shit.”

Your lips wrap fully around his reddening tip.

His breath catches in his throat when you lick over him like a lollipop. Your tongue dips over his drooling slit. The salty tang of him makes you moan under your breath.

Your lips abandon his cock soon after. You keep jerking him with your fist while you bring your mouth to his balls. You know he likes that best. He’s more sensitive there than most men are and spurned on by the sight of it even more so.

The sounds of your suckling and the vision of you nuzzling against his length has his orgasm creeping up his spine.

Your mouth widens as your tongue trails up the thick vein at the underside of his cock, leading all the way to his flushed, bulbous tip.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” Steve sighs, right before a whine spills from his throat. His palms are wide and warm as they settle over your temples, his fingers crawling into your hair.

He doesn’t guide you at all — you know what he likes better than he does, really. He doesn’t pull you closer to him, either. He just holds you. He uses you like an anchor when his impending orgasm threatens to pull his head underwater.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he repeats, this time in a more firm groan. His cock jerks faintly in your mouth while he babbles. “Gonna make me come like this… So good for me, baby. Your pretty mouth is always so good for me. Just a little bit more…”

You know what he needs. He blinks, and suddenly his cock is stuffed down your throat. Both of you are barely breathing by then, equally spurned on by his rapidly approaching orgasm.

“Oh, shit, babe— fuck,” he whines, voice breaking when you swallow around him. He tilts his head to the ceiling and talks himself through his orgasm with gritted teeth. “Yeah. Gag on it— let me feel you, baby… Fuck, yes... 'S gonna make me come so hard. You’re gonna swallow it for me, yeah? Take everything I give you?”

With his cock stuffing your throat, you show him better than you can tell him.

His cock spits several warm loads within your waiting throat. You swallow it all down without complaint — not because it tastes good exactly, but because you love having a mouthful of him.

His golden thighs tremble under your hands as your nails rake gently over his skin.

A blissful sigh trembles in his flushed chest when you pull back from him. Even though your jaw aches and your throat is sore, you find it in you to smile as you drag your finger over the dribbles of cum at the corner of your mouth.

Steve swears he almost comes again when you lick the remnants of his pearly load off the pad of your thumb.

“What do ya say?” you find it in you to tease despite your current predicament. You’re still kneeling in front of him, blinking up at him with heavy watering eyes, saliva glistening on your chin. “Did I earn my seat, Stevie?”

Swallowing through a tight throat, he nods until the words catch up to him. “Yeah. Definitely, yeah. Fuck.”

The bed creaks under his weight when he lies in the center of it. Now fully naked, his tanned skin contrasts heavily with the all-white sheets beneath him. His honey hair is wild as he leans against the fluffy pillows.

He beckons you to him with a wave of his hands.

“C’mere,” he tells you, pink tongue darting out to wet his swollen lips a second later.

You untie your bikini in record time. You rise on the mattress and swing your knee over his hip. Your glistening pussy rests just over his stomach, pretty enough to taste.

“Uh-uh,” Steve hums with the shake of his head, waving his hands again. “Come here.”

Your brows pinch. “What do you mean?”

“Closer,” he commands.

Still a bit confused, you shift further up his waist — only a few inches, though, because you’re not entirely sure what he’s asking of you.

You don’t fully understand until his wide hands curl around the backs of your thighs. He urges you up his torso himself, forcing you to grip the headboard before you topple over completely.

He shifts lower on the mattress until your knees are over his shoulders. His strong arms wrap around your thighs to pull you over his face, all but suffocating himself with your pussy.

His scruffy jaw scratches softly at your inner thighs — a stark contrast with the way his soft mouth suckles at your weeping cunt.

You’re practically gushing over his face the second his lips wrap around your clit.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #bug's summer fic fest!

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dorcas4meadowes · 4 months

Text

Love on a high - Luke Castellan

Pairing: Luke Castellan x fem!Reader

Warning: weed and kisses

Summary: smoking alone when an un requited love (you’re also oblivious ml) joins you

W/c: 1.5k

Master list

∘✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧∘✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧∘✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

You were never fond of the high, but It was the quiet that you craved.

The serenity you yearned for at the end of a blunt rolled by a Demeter kid who owed you a favour. You were thankful to the small match box container – which held a few joints – it kept you at ease when you brother was at prominent distress or when you best friend was blissfully oblivious to your every advance to flaunt your affection towards him.

Your eyes fell shut as you took a long drag, holding the smoke in your chest until you could feel the soft buzz drift to your head, making everything appear blurred and sharp simultaneously.

You surveyed the water under your feet, each melt of the waves making your eyes follow new curvatures that were being generated.

The fish and the plants contently dancing to the rhythm of the tides pull.

You did not notice when the weed created a dim haze around you, but when the wind proceeded to whisper and the moon mumbled back, you became numb in its presence and within a few moments you were completely and utterly stoned.

"You shouldn't be out here".

You shouldn't be with me while I'm so amiable.

His voice was a mere breath against your skin. His tone lethargic in contrast to the melody which mused from your headphones. You were unaware of truth that his voice brought you, but when your gaze dimly caught his and you smiled.

"I doubt you should be lecturing me, you are out here too Luke". Your voice was soft, it routinely was with him.

"I have duties".

"And I have a recreational hobby".

He paused for a moment. "Which requires you to be outside this late?" he asked, his eyes lingering on your stained fingers.

"I enjoy the placidity", you quietly said, bringing the joint up to your lips to further dull your surroundings.

"I thought you stopped?"

"I tried". You were ashamed of your habit, mainly because Luke didn't indulge in it.

"Let me then". The enthusiasm in his tone confused you, your eyes following his every move as he perched close beside you, his prying fingers nearing yours. He had never once expressed his want for the flower, he were not interested in your soother, so his question caught you by surprise.

"Luke" you muttered, momentarily forgetting his question.

"Yes".

"Oh Luke".

Your leer on him softened as you admired him, his features becoming a blur of endearment and simplicity. You had always known he was handsome, but in the dim shading of the moon and rippled reflections from the dark water you couldn't help, but study him, concentrate every lasting thought on him.

Your squinted a little, light playing through your lids as you appreciated the way your surroundings painted him, encapsulating him into nothing that could be defined other than pure charm.

He thawed against the blue around him gently, his eyes searching for something you could not quite answer, because all you were fascinated by was the pull of his brow, the line of his jaw and the way he adjusted against your indigo so tranquilly.

You were so intent on smoothing the ridge above his lip that when his hand brushed against your you startled, before sympathising to his original demand, passing the blunt to him. You observed him tug the joint towards his lips and almost instantly convulse as swiftly as his inhale were.

A hum left you throat, "it takes time Luke, most good things do".

"How long did it take you?".

"Demeter's flowerings are always more - potent than usual and contributing a dejected childhood to the process and a prior tolerance, a few months".

He placed the joint in the small gap between you then spoke, "so how long till I start seeing leprechaun?"

"You have to hold your stuff, before anything happens", you said, distracted by chatter.

"And then after that?"

"It sort of just happens, like the moments before you fall aslee-", before you could continue your sentence you became preoccupied by a lull from the sky.

"Hear the stars Luke?".

"Should i?" he asked, his voice filled with amusement, "what are they saying?”

You sat in a dropped silence, attempting to decipher their whispers, too conspicuous for you to repeat.

Your fates are spiralling Y/n, like a spider's web, too delicate to tear apart, one hushed.

Child of the sea, live up to your lineage, find the tide in his storm, another prodded.

We know how you feel, you feel too deeply to keep it to yourself, you're being selfish, tell him.

Further mutters echoed in your ears, sending thoughts through your stoned mind. You closed your eyes for privacy, but even then you could see him, you could trace his every fibre with your memory let alone, every contemplation consisting of him.

"They are being stupid" you finally replied, turning your head away from constellations.

"How so?" he questioned.

"They are saying - things".

"Can I know?"

You smiled and shook your head, "you can listen". You took the blunt between your fingers and relit the ends with a light.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, not dismissing your sudden notion.

"Can I show you?" you queried, the high in your body blinding you from reality.

When he tried to reply his voice caught in his throat, but three words escaped, three words which solidified you next move.

"I trust you".

You took a drag of the blunt and allowed the smoke to linger behind your closed mouth, attempting to retain it from traveling down your throat. He watched you every so intently, pondering your next move as you pressed your fingers into his jaw turning his face, so he had no other option than to meet your intrigued gaze.

Then you leant closer - nearer than you ever consciously allowed yourself to - his reflexes shattering as he too drifted closer to your warmth allowing your lips to brush against his ever so slightly as your diffused the bitter smoke into his mouth. You wouldn't have noticed the refined press if you weren't so vigilant, so when you when the smoke dispersed, you were unaware of what to do? Where to go? You couldn't ponder your decisions a mere few centimetres away from Luke's face, so you spoke.

"Better?"

He responded instantly, "do you trust me?", his words swift.

"What – I always what's the-".

You could not finish your sentence before a soft kiss was pressed to your lips, everything changing in a matter of moments. The sour tastes of weed stirred between both your parted mouths - which you invited pleasantly - allowing his hands to kneed the soft skin of you hip as yours found his curls.

Any form of life coming to a pause in declaration of this action.

His lips were as soft as they appeared, so when you separated you couldn't help but drag your thumb across his them, a small laugh falling from your mouth. You took a short breath and blinked, watching him reach out heedlessly to discover your hands - which he clasped in his own - bringing them upwards to brush his lips over your knuckles.

You allowed him to be close with no aversions - bathing in his presence - dazed a little at your distance since he had never made an effort to prove his fondness to you, it all felt surreal.

"I can hear the stars" he stated.

"Oh really?" you questioned, planting a mindless kiss to his lips.

"Mhm, they're saying you should meet me by the woods tomorrow at midnight".

"Hm, mine are saying we should take this back to your cabin".

"As much as I would love to do so, I would rather remember whatever would happen and besides the new kids sleep like a new borns". You rolled your eyes, "come on, let me walk you back to your cabin".

You accepted his help and stood, and knocked your blunt and lighter into the water -whispering a few words of flattery to which the tide would keep your belongings safe – and out of Percy's reach – placing a reassuring kiss onto Luke's cheek before lacing your fingers together once against to walk back to the warm sheets of your bed.

To an impercipient eye you were the epitome of adolescent affection, but amongst the brawny vegetation – across from where you sat - lay an observant spectator, one who often doted of Luke and yours growing devotion to one another and watched with poise, waiting for the inevitable misfortune.

"In the realm of profound sentiment, the pinnacle of love is its culmination to embrace tragedy".

Aphrodite uttered these words to her unbothered accomplice who sat at her side simply because the sun was far from its obligation to rise.

"Perhaps he may choose her" Apollo spoke, toying with his bow.

"A boy cannot forsake a prophecy; the world will burn for her or it will blaze, because of her. Kronos has already whispered into the son of Hermes' ear, it is unescapable- his fate - but she, her's is undedicated".

"So you will watch their eventual decline?" Apollo asked.

"With decided scrutiny, where ever she proceeds allow her muse to inspire her steps".

"You're just glad amongst the uprising there's something cute to follow".

"Indeed and i will grant her every step with calamity".

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Thanks for reading cuties <33

(In a Coriolanus and Luke chokehold rn)

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackson #x reader #pjo series #pjo x reader #pjo #pjo x you #Luke Castellan imagines #riawrites

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another-lost-mc · 10 months

Note

Imagine Vampire Lord!Diavolo receiving a sacrificial human as a gift. He's delighted but pretends to act horrified and sympathetic to the poor little thing's plight. Blood tastes horrible if the human is terrified. So, for months he lulls them into a false sense of security. Lavishing them with care, gentlemanly behaviour, and isolation for their safety of course!

Let the human delude themself into thinking they had a choice. Vampire Lord!Diavolo mouth waters at the thought of their favourite pet voluntarily offering their blood to him. By then, the trap has long snapped shut. Pleaseee we need more gilded cage, manipulative Diavolo because the potential is limitless!!

A/N: I might've gotten a little carried away with this one.

Vampire!DIAVOLO x gn!Reader, 2.3k words, nsfw, dark themes/content.

Content warnings: canon-typical vampire behaviour including biting/blood drinking, predator/prey dynamics, kidnapping, coercion, manipulation, implied isolation/imprisonment, minor violence, pet names, some sexual content.