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ghost-with-a-teacup · 11 months

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𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Summary: Everyone at HQ was convinced there was something going on between you and Miguel. Just...no one knew what. But one group of spiders were determined to figure it out.

Warnings: None! Just a lot of goofiness and a whole lot of fluff :3

When you have a superhuman with superior senses, they’re bound to be perceptive to their surroundings. Now when you have an entire lobby the size of multiple football fields filled with superhumans with superior senses, very few things will go unnoticed.

It’s why people very quickly realize that you and Miguel have…something between the two of you. It’s just that no one is quite sure what.

Camaraderie? Maybe, you were one of the first spiders to join the society.

Friendship? Perhaps, but it was known that Miguel wasn’t one to do friends. Not with the amount of loss he has gone through.

A relationship? This one seemed the most unplausible. Miguel was, well, Miguel. Stoick, cold and calculating. Meanwhile, you were you.

You had a light that drew people in, kindness that knew no bounds and warmth like a fire on a cold winter’s day.

Everyone knew the saying ‘opposites attract’, but it was like comparing night and day with the two of you. Regardless, a small little group within the society were set on trying to figure the two of you out.

“Ain’t no way the two are together, she’s too good for him!” Hobie argues, his legs kicked up on the table in front of him.

“I don’t know, maybe that’s why they work together. Because she makes him better?” Miles says, but his tone of voice failed to hide his skepticism.

“I think you should just leave the two of them be. Besides, what happens if you figure it out or not anyway?” Peter says, feeding Mayday as he does. Immediately a chorus of arguments breaks out from the group.

“OKAY! Okay, forget I asked,” he says with a shake of his head, while Mayday just laughs at the commotion.

They spot the two of you walking into the cafeteria making conversation none of them could make out.

“Look at them,” Gwen says, “have you ever seen the guy happier than he is with her?” she asks, and Hobie snorts.

“C’mon mate, you call that happy? Mans got that frown tattooed on his face, can he even be happy?” he says, but they all continue watching intently.

You glance over to the table they were surrounding, and they all brush off your gaze pretending as though they weren’t just studying the two of you like specimens under a microscope.

You wave your hand, a bright smile on your face while Miguel only glances over for a moment before continuing to walk. You jog to catch up to him, grabbing a tray and picking up things you wanted for lunch.

They watch as they see Miguel pick up the empanada, the last one left. He pauses for a split second, holding it before turning to place it on your tray. Almost as though they were straight out of a cartoon, they freeze at the interaction.

You seem to be slightly surprised as you, saying something to him but he only brushes you off before continuing on.

“Did…that just happen?” Pavitr asks. Everyone at HQ was aware of Miguel’s fondness for the food (even if he did hurl one right at Miles when they first met), there was no way he would give one away so easily for just anyone, right?

“Somebody pinch me,” Gwen says, and Hobie jumps at the request.

“OW!”

Miguel never lets anyone help him out when he’s injured. That was just a known fact. He could walk into HQ battered and bruised and wouldn’t even look in the infirmary’s direction once. After depending on himself for so long, he wasn’t going to stop now. Besides, what were First Aid kits for after all?

The only way he was going to the infirmary was if someone dragged his unconscious body there themselves.

Well, unless you were there.

“Miguel O’Hara I swear to god, you better get your ass to the infirmary or so help me I will tie you up and drag you through the halls myself,” you say sternly as you both reemerge in the Lobby. The rest of the Spiders there continued with what they were doing, but their attention was zeroed in on you both.

“I’m fine,” he says, glaring at you as if trying to say ‘Just try’. Had you been anyone else, you would have backed down by now but you didn’t.

“You wanna test me right now? That was a nasty hit, I will not be letting it get infected under my watch,” you retort, and he puffs.

“This is nothing, I’ve dealt with worse,” he scoffs, and in an instant your finger shoots out, making contact with the side that got hit with the anomaly’s flames. Miguel can’t help the sharp intake of breath as the pain from the impact hits him.

Your eyebrow raises, an expression of disbelief on your face before it softens. Murmuring softly, you say something that only he can hear.

For a moment he studies your face before sighing, finally relenting. With a triumphant smile, you place a hand on the man’s broad back, leading him towards the infirmary with a gentle but firm hand.

There, Pavitr is laying in bed recovering from an awry mission of his own. The doctors had ordered bedrest for the next 2 hours at least. Superior healing or not, they were not going to risk it. So there he lay, slinging his golden bangles up and down bored before he hears the two of you come in.

“Mr. O’Hara-" a doctor’s voice can be heard, but he is quickly interrupted.

“She’s got it from here,” he says, Miguel’s tone final. A small “yes, sir” can be heard before footsteps fade away, the doctor’s office door closing once more.

“You know, you should really let the professionals help you,” your voice can be heard.

“You dragged me here, you can deal with the consequences,” he says, and you just laugh fondly before your voices quieten, murmuring too quietly for Pavitr to hear.

Curiosity builds as he recalls the conversation he and his friends had, and before he can stop himself he shifts silently to the side, just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of you both from the small gap between the hospital curtain and the wall.

There, Miguel sat on the bed, a disgruntled expression on his face but his eyes were soft as he watched you fuss over his side.

He only watches for a few seconds before pulling away, this being a clear invasion of privacy, and his boss’ privacy no less.

It wasn’t going to stop him from telling everyone else though.

“This is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea,” Miles says, grasping onto the ceiling like his life depended on it.

“It’s only a bad idea if we get caught, so Shut. Up,” Gwen says sharply, hanging from her place on the ceiling as they watched the fight from above.

Gwen had come up with the mighty fine idea of sneaking into a mission between the two of you. It wasn’t often that it happened, Miguel more often than not only went on missions with only Lyla by his side. But when he needed a partner, it was always you.

“Why did you have to bring me with you,” he whispers, “Miguel already doesn’t like me. He doesn’t need more of a reason to.”

“Because I needed backup and you can turn invisible. And let’s be real, Hobie would be laughing his ass off getting us caught, Peter would bring Mayday which would get us caught, and Pavitr is already on a mission, now shhh,” she whispers, turning back to watching the scene below.

You swung from pillar to pillar in the abandoned factory with practiced ease, a carefree laugh escaping your lips as Miguel stands on the ground fiddling with his watch.

“The anomaly’s last known location was here,” Lyla’s voice echoes out, and you let out a sigh.

“Why can’t villains have easy powers. Maybe a giant blob that is easy to take down? Why do they have to be so complicated? What’s this one again, a freaky shadow monster?” you think out loud.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Miguel retorts, glancing up toward you for a moment before turning back to Lyla. “Do a scan of the place, will you?”

“What do we say~” Lyla responds, and you giggle softly while Miguel huffs.

“Please,” he mutters.

“What was that?”

“Please, Lyla,” he says a little louder now, irritation growing in his voice.

“Already done,” the AI snickers, and he groans out loud as your laughter bounces off of the walls, a fist held out for Lyla to bump.

“The two of you will be the death of me,” he says lowly.

“Oh, don’t be like that, grumps. You’d be too stubborn to die,” you retort before tensing up, the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the familiar feeling of your heightened senses at work. The moment you sling yourself up is the moment a loud thud sounds out from where you once stood.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that the anomaly was in the far right corner,” Lyla says before disappearing.

“I really need to do a rewrite of her code,” Miguel mutters to himself.

In your previous spot emerges a dark figure, plumes of smoke emerging and dissipating from its form and allowing it to disappear into the shadows with ease.

With a simple nod, you get to work. Like a well-oiled machine, you work in practiced synchrony, bounding across the walls and slinging webs.

And just like that the anomaly is captured, the force field around it effectively trapping it for the ride back to HQ so it can be sent back to its own universe.

“That was…kinda lame,” you snicker, pulling off your mask

“Told you so,” Miguel says as he opens up a portal for you both, dragging the anomaly behind him.

“Don’t say that to me,” you pout.

“What, can’t handle the truth?” he retorts, a smirk playing across his lips as your bickering voices fade through the portal.

“…was that a smile,” Gwen asks as she watches the spot where they both had stood.

“Was that what it was?” Miles asks, a shudder racking through his body.

It was late at night at the HQ, and at this time everyone else had already gone back to their own universes. The few that lingered were the ones finishing up after a late-night mission.

Or, you were Peter B. Parker frantically searching through the kitchen for a bottle of milk for Mayday after a playdate with a select few spiders that went on for way longer than expected.

Mayday was an easy baby. Always happy and smiling, but that all disappears when she was hungry and you did not want a spider baby on a rampage.

“Alright, alright, give Daddy a few seconds to warm up your milk please?” Peter pleads as Mayday continues to babble angrily, crawling all over him.

She pauses for a moment, attention drawn elsewhere as she hangs off of her father’s back before leaping.

“Hey, lil spider!” You say with a laugh, catching her in your arms. “What are you doing here so late?” you ask.

“Playdate with Miles, Gwen and Hobie. Time really flew and she refused to leave until now,” Peter sighs tiredly, and you pat him on the back before putting her up onto your shoulders. “What are you doing here so late?”

You shrug, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“Working late. Like you said, time really flew,” you say, but Peter knew that wasn’t the full truth.

“Working so hard that you need two cups of coffee?” he asks, holding out the bottle for Mayday to take, which is what she does happily as she snuggles up in her father’s arms.

“What can I say, caffeine doesn’t really work on me,” you grin, pouring the coffee from the machine. “Goodnight, Peter, Mayday,” you say, ruffling her red hair fondly.

And as quickly as you appeared, you disappear.

People didn’t often disturb the big boss man Miguel when he was working. Not if you wanted to stay on his good side.

It was even less often that someone barges into his room full of screens as he monitors the Archno-Humanoid Polymultiverse, let alone a group of them.

“We heard you talking to someone! And laughing,” Gwen says hesitantly as if she couldn’t even believe it herself. But she was invested in figuring out what the deal was between the two of you now.

“Well, do you see anyone around?” Miguel deadpans, his arms wide and gesturing around broadly. You could barely stifle the giggle as you sat on a beam high up on the ceiling, going unnoticed.

“W-well, no…But!” she says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow which makes Gwen shrink in her spot slightly before recovering. “But we heard you. There was someone here, wasn’t there?”

Hobie, ever the perceptive one tracks his eyes along the ceiling before spotting you swinging your legs with an amused look on your face. It seemed as though no one else had noticed though.

Miguel watches Hobie spot you and his eyes narrow in his direction, as if saying ‘I dare you to say anything’ to which the spider only raises his hands in mock surrender.

“No. There wasn't." He says, his tone final. "If that’s all you’re here for, I have important work to get to. So why don’t you go bother someone else, yeah?”

“I give up,” Gwen says, slumping in her chair. “We’re never going to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Jess asks, walking up to the group.

“Whether or not there is something going on between those two,” Miles says, nodding towards you and Miguel talking over in the corner of the room.

Jessica only hums, a knowing look in her eyes but she doesn’t say anything. Only asks a simple question.

“What makes you think so?”

“Everyone here knows that there’s something there, even if they want to admit it or not. She’s one of the few people he tolerates, they’re together almost all the time and he actually seems happy around her,” Gwen reasons.

“You could have just asked, you know,” you say, coming up on their conversation with an amused look on your face.

Their expressions range from flustered to simply amused and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up as you make eye contact with Jess.

“And to answer the question,” you reach down your suit, pulling out a simple chain with a ring dangling off of the end.

“We’re actually married.”

The group goes silent for a moment, eyes wide as they stare at the necklace in your hands, trying to process your words.

Then, all hell breaks loose.

A/N: Hehe, I'm quite happy with this one :3 This is my first attempt at writing Miguel, sorry if I butchered him but I am absolutely hyperfixating on him after seeing ATSV in theatres yesterday.

Based on the prompt by @imslightlycreative though slightly changed :)) I hope you all enjoyed <3

Part two out now!! Read it here.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #spiderverse x reader #miguel o hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #marvel

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phoward89 · 2 months

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Based on this ask & this ask

Dark!Coryo, Dark!Peacekeeper Coryo, Innocent!Reader, obsession

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1:

Coriolanus, now Private Snow, hated District 12. It was so depressing. Between the coal dust, mud, and poverty, he’s surprised that half of the district's population hasn't killed themselves yet. The atmosphere is horrible.

He hates it.

Would've never made it to adulthood if he was raised in the back hills of the Appalachian mountains. Seriously, he would've offed himself. Between the mud, the muggy heat, the never ending coal dust, the bugs (locals call them skeeters), and the overall atmosphere of despair, he hates District 12.

Oh, how he missed the view of the Rockies that surround his beloved Capitol. He had such a lovely view of the superior mountain range from his former penthouse. Even though it was falling apart, moldy, and rat infested, the penthouse was still on the Corso. Was still in the wealthiest part of town. Yes, he was struggling to stay afloat; was impoverished, but at least he lived in the prized and most sought after part of the Capitol.

Keyword: lived. As in past tense, as in he used to live there. Now he lives on Peacekeeper Base-12, District 12.

From a 12th floor Corso penthouse to a peacekeeper’s base in 12. Oh, how Coriolanus Snow has fallen.

High-as-a-kite-bottom must be shitting rainbows at Coriolanus being a peacekeeper in a backwater district.

And to think he was originally assigned to the peacekeeper base in 8. Oh, how he's glad he spent every last cent to his name to bribe his way into service in 12. He doubts that he could survive District 8 considering it's full of nothing but smog, tenant buildings, and textile factories.

At least in 12 he has some fresh air to breathe.

But, he hasn't been able to find his reason for being in 12.

Lucy Gray.

He's been in 12 for a few weeks now and can't locate her. Even Sejanus can't get anyone to tell him where she's at. That's bad considering how everyone seems to trust Sejanus; open up to the naive revolutionary due to his warm and friendly personality.

So, Coriolanus is stuck patrolling the streets of District 12 while rethinking his life choices. God, how he wants to be back in the Capitol so bad. He'll do anything to get back.

Anything at all.

One day, while on patrol in the Merchant Sector, he spotted you, a pretty Seam girl, making her way to the apothecary shop.

You had on a pretty floral dress.

No, not just a floral dress, but a dress with tiny red roses on it.

It suited you.

You had a book tucked under your arm as you walked down the cobbled streets of the nicer part of the district. And when you noticed him, you gave him a small smile.

That was the biggest goddamn mistake you've ever made in your entire life!

That one small smile sent Coriolanus’ mind into overdrive. You were so kind to him with that one tiny gesture. So kind when everyone else in the district looked at him with disgust because of the uniform he wore on a daily basis. Everyone else in this back asswards district looked at him like a bug to be squashed, but you didn't. You looked at him like he was a genuine person.

Your small smile was full of warmth and sunshine. It reminded him of his mother, who he lost such a long time ago.

Oh, how he secretly craved the warm gentleness of a woman. The warm gentleness that he's only known while in the embrace of his mother.

He wonders if you would sing to him late at night when sleep seemed to evade him. When he was deep in thought, too focused on a problem that needed solving to sleep. Would you wrap your arms around him, hold him when he needed solace? Would you be that gentle woman's touch he's craved his entire life?

Yes.

Yes, you will be.

Coriolanus vowed that he'd find a way back to the Capitol, but now that's changed. Now, he needs to find a way to bring both of you back to the Capitol.

As delusional as it might seem Coriolanus was instantly obsessed with you all because you gave him a kind, small smile while on your way to intern at the apothecary shop.

But he didn't view it as obsession, instead he viewed it as love. And he loves you with his entire being all because you smiled sweetly at him.

Your older brother Rein and his girlfriend Ashlie raised you to be leery and fearful of peacekeepers. They told you not to trust them; to stay away from them. And most of all, they told you to never ever look them in the eye or talk to them.

Not unless you wanted trouble to rain down on you like hellfire, that is.

But you made the mistake of flashing one a smile while on your way to the apothecary. The peacekeeper was young, you reckon around your age, and very tall. He had to be one of the tallest men you've ever seen in your entire life. But it wasn't his height that made you notice him. No, it was his eyes. Eyes such a pure blue, that they reminded you of the beautiful crystal clear water of the lake.

He seemed unlike any man you've ever seen before. Yes, he was a peacekeeper on watch duty, but he looked miserable. As if he didn't want to be here.

So, before you could think twice, you gave him a small, warm and friendly smile. Hoping that maybe you could cheer him up. Make his day a bit brighter in the desolate, depressing coal mining district you were cursed to be living in.

To your surprise, he smiled back. It was a closed lip smile, but it took over his entire face and just made his eyes sparkle. Made him look youthful underneath his peacekeeper's persona.

You barely made it a yard away from him when suddenly, a large shadow loomed over you. Looking up, you saw that the very same peacekeeper you just shared a smile with was right next to you. Walking by your side, like your personal golden retriever.

Except you didn't know that Private Snow isn't a golden retriever. He's more like a demon possessed Chihuahua from the deepest pits of hell. Shit, scratch that, he's legit the hellhound Cerberus that's guards the gate to the underworld for Hades.

Mhm…

But you didn't know that. How could you? You've just seen the man. Up until now he's been nothing, but a stranger to you.

Just another random peacekeeper.

“Um, hi.” You greeted your new companion, your voice a near stutter, as you passed by townspeople and shopkeepers while walking down the cobblestone street of the Merchant Sector.

Everyone looked a bit wide-eyed since you were side by side with a peacekeeper. Surely your name would be in the gossip mill tonight; it wouldn't be anything good either. Your older brother was going to flip his shit when he found out.

“Hello, Miss-” The peacekeeper at your side greeted, leaving an opening hanging for you to supply him your name.

“Y/N Halvir.” You simply supplied.

“Well, Miss Y/N, I'm Private Coriolanus Snow; I thought perhaps I could escort you to wherever you're going since, after all, it's my duty to patrol these streets and keep the good law-abiding citizens of 12 safe from harm.” Coriolanus told you, laying the charm on real thick since he wanted you to believe that he just wanted to do something nice and dutiful for you. He didn't want you to know that he wanted to take you to your destination in order to show you off to the entire Merchant Sector. To make sure that everyone (and he means everyone) in that part of 12 knows that you're with him.

Commissioned Officers are the only ones allowed in the Peacekeepers to have serious relationships (usually they would have an arranged match in the Capitol) but he didn't care. Coriolanus Snow did what he wanted; the hell with anybody else. He wanted something, he took it. Right now, he wanted you.

So…

He was taking you.

Or at least he would be taking you back to the Capitol with him once he figures out a way back there. But as for right now, Private Snow was letting everyone see you together; letting everyone know that you were his girl.

His girl and off limits to anyone else.

And if someone even did so much as look at you sideways, well, he'd kill them.

“Oh, you don't have to. The apothecary’s right up the bend and I'd hate to be a bother; make you take time out just to walk me there.”

“It's not a bother at all, darling. In fact, I insist on walking with you, to keep you safe.” Private Snow smiled, seeming to be a friendly and helpful gentleman underneath his grey uniform. “Never know who out there might try to harm such a pretty girl, like you.” He added in to drive home his reason for walking with you.

Hearing him call you pretty made your cheeks grow hot. Oh my… Nobody's called you pretty before, not even your own brother and his girlfriend (and they raised you). No, Rein and Ashlie always said that you looked nice.

Coriolanus calling you pretty did something to you.

The peacekeeper smirked to himself, knowing that his words had ensnared you to him. He honestly did think you were pretty, so having you react to the compliment by getting all flustered made his heart soar. It gave his obsessive nature a large ego boost, because to him your reaction meant that you loved him back, just like he loved you.

That the two of you shared the unbreakable bond of love at first sight.

But the truth of the matter was that Coriolanus was obsessed with you in an unhealthy way after seeing you and sharing a few words while you were just a kind person that wasn't used to being called pretty

You're from the Seam; girls from the seem don't get called pretty.

Well, not unless they're one Lucy Gray Baird.

But that reality would never be Private Snow's reality. No, his reality’s one where you're both crazy in love with each other after sharing smiles, a few words, and a walk.

Coming to a stop right in front of the apothecary, you looked at the peacekeeper and politely told him, “Thank you for walking me here, Coriolanus.”

Coriolanus leaned forward, closing the space between you, only to request, “Please, call me Coryo. All my friends and family do.”

His words took you aback. Blinking, you asked in disbelief, “You want to be friends?”

“Yes.” Coryo nodded, a too wide smile showcasing his pearly whites on his face.

Lie!

That was a big fat fucking lie!

He didn't want to be your friend, he wanted to be your boyfriend. No, no. That's not true either. Scratch that, Peacekeeper Snow wanted to be your husband.

Yes, that's right. He just met you and barely knows you, but he wants to be your husband. All because he's obsessed with you; thinks that you share some kind of special undying love all because of a kind smile and a blush.

Boy oh boy, seems like he forgot about Lucy Gray real quick.

Lucy Gray. Lucy Gray who?

She didn't matter to him anymore. Coriolanus realizes now that the songbird was just a means to an end; that it would've never worked out between them.

That you're his true prize. The girl that's meant for him. The girl that's kind and pretty, just like his mother used to be before she was taken away from him by dying in the birthing bed with his baby sister.

You're his perfect girl.

“Okay. We can be friends.” You naively responded.

If only you knew what he truly meant by ‘being friends’. It'd save your family a whole lot of trouble and heartbreak. That's for sure.

“I'll wait around; escort you back when your done.” Coriolanus offered as the young dirty blonde man inside of the apothecary shop looked at the window, stunned to see you talking so easily with a peacekeeper.

A peacekeeper that had no need for herbs, remedies, and healers since he had access to all the modern medical marvels Panem’s Capitol had to offer at the PKB-12 Military Hospital. The young shopkeeper was concerned for your safety, seeing you exchanging words effortlessly with the uniformed grunt.

“I’m interning here til 5:30, sometimes 6.” You told Coriolanus because you didn't want your new friend waiting around for you when he had work to do.

Before Coriolanus could tell you that he'd be back around then to escort you home, the door to the apothecary flung open and out walked Juris Ashberry.

Juris was a dirty blonde of average height that you had gone to school with. His father was a clerk at the Justice Building; worked closely with the mayor. His mother was good friends with the old hag that owned the apothecary.

So, Juris arranged for you to get an internship at the shop after his family had arranged for him to be in a courtship with Belladonna, the daughter of the old hag that ran the apothecary.

Belladonna hated you because her intended, Juris, had a sweet spot for you. A sweet spot he was too chicken to openly declare.

And it was the worried look in his eyes that tipped Coriolanus off that the man who just walked out of the apothecary felt something for you. He wanted to stab that dirty merchant boy's eyes out for looking at you.

Coriolanus is the only one allowed to look at you with such sweet worry and care.

“Y/N, you're needed inside.” Juris told you as a way to separate you and Coryo. His eyes sized up the Capitol born and bred peacekeeper, concluding that if he had to then he could take the tall and athletically built peacekeeper on in a fight.

“Bye, Coryo.” You waved at your new friend before turning towards the apothecary.

You were almost to the door whenever it opened and out strolled Belladonna, your boss's daughter. She gave you a glare before skipping over to Juris and snatching his hand in hers. “Now that she's finally here, we can go have midmorning tea with Mayfair and Billy.”

Juris just nodded before silently walking off with Belladonna in the direction that the Mayor's large lavish house was in.

Coriolanus didn't like Juris. Even though Juris has himself a pretty flaxen blonde on his arm, the way he looked at you was dangerous. And the fact that the man seemed comfortable at your place of employment (internship, but practically the same thing) didn't go over well with him either.

Coriolanus decided that he needed to get you away from that dirty blonde man; he needed to make you dependent on him. And he needed to do those things because it was the only way to ensure that you'll join him back in the Capitol.

So, while you went about your midmorning in the apothecary, Coriolanus patrolled the streets while scheming up a way to get you fired. Hmm, maybe he could threaten the shopkeeper’s family? People seemed to do anything to keep their family safe.

Whatever he’s got to do to get you out of that shop, he’s going to do it. He was going to stop at nothing to have you on his arm as he stepped out of the train and onto the platform during his return to the best city in all of Panem.

The Capitol.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak, @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @staylowessafe

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miyacults · 3 months

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red, blue and yellow lights.

( ft. satoru gojo. )

It’s hard to tell you a cold, numb no. How does Suguru has it in him to ever deny you anything and make you behave? Satoru doesn’t have that much power over you. Yet. It’s the other way around entirely. Usually, you have Satoru wrapped around your dainty fingers… but this time isn’t usual at all.

> part 2.

wc: 4k (unedited im soreeey)

cw: fem reader (afab). only gojo action here but poly satosugu is super implied. +18, explicit content. smut. minors do not interact. slight age gap, reader is younger than both of them but not much and is not stated at all. daddy kink and daddy dynamic so be careful!!! rough sex/rough satoru. manhandling. slight hints at dacryphilia. slight chocking. marking (one hickey). unprotected sex, p in v sex. little mention of blood. that should be all! enjoy <3

It was raining the first day it happened—sky practically crying at the sight of you three, already sinking down in the problems to come for such a reckless call. Satoru and Suguru are the strongest ones, so they know better and they pride themselves with this fact. They’re smarter than the rest, both devastatingly attractive, even more so than anyone could ever imagine and…simply superior. But the first time they didn’t knew better.

Or they didn’t care to.

The second time shouldn’t have occurred. They should’ve weighed into the idea of not stumbling upon the same rock again—but they did it nonetheless. How couldn’t they? When the rock herself got the touch of angels, the voice of the gods and a face made in heaven. Anyone in their right mind would have done the same.

And so the third and the fourth come, and suddenly they stop counting how many more times have they been opening the gates of hell for you three to freely wander—toying with the risk of losing it all, as sorcerers always do. Stumbling upon a path of no recovery, stranding themselves into a new kind of addiction capable of surpassing that of what power and glory and the god-like status they hold has been pumping their veins for a while now.

Satoru likes to share everything with Suguru. And Suguru likes to share everything with Satoru. Where one goes, the other follows. If Satoru likes it sweet, then Suguru deals with the bitterness, and if Suguru wants it that way, Satoru will pave it himself without a second thought. They’ve been complementing each other for so long, it was only natural for this to happen.

For you, to happen.

But even them have their own ways of becoming addicted to you.

“Please,” you’re saying—sobbing, actually, clenched teeth chirping, violent tremors ripping inside your chest, glimmering tears staining dainty features—and Satoru already feels the weight of guilt swallowing him whole. Tense lips press each other firmly in a straight line, azure eyes shutting together as lithe fingers ghost the overly sensitive skin of his neck. “Please, ‘Toru—”

“No.”

He needs you to shut up, fast.

The name—his name—is hanging dangerously at the tip of your tongue, too close to being spilled out loud, too close to make an even bigger mess than the one he’s already sitting himself on.

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you’re murmuring now against his sealed lips, small cries leaving your mouth, basically straddling his lap as you desperately try to adjust yourself over the growing bulge in his pants—bare, tight little cunt fluttering at the small friction. “I’ll behave, please, just let me ride your cock for a little while, please.”

“Oh, sweets,” Satoru heaves an exasperated sigh through a low, nervous chuckle, hands running through snowy hair crystal clear gaze finally fixing on you. “You’re gonna be the death of me one of these days, you know that? Suguru told me you were being a brat lately and I didn’t listen to him,”

He’s trying to play it off as best he can, sure, but this is adding up to his temper. His cock throbs painfully inside his trousers. He’s not even sure what time it is—maybe three, four in the morning? He doesn’t know. It’s quite hard to keep the track of time when you’re here to distract him of all the things he should be doing instead, when the blue cotton laced panties—the ones he gifted you like two weeks ago—that are supposed to be covering your greedy, insatiable pussy, are now stuffed in the pocket of his expensive, Tom Ford shirt.

It’s nearly impossible to focus when you’re rolling your hips, humping your needy clit and damping his pants with your juices, causing an unbearable explosion in his stomach, cock hard and full of precum you should be licking off of him.

You should be the one cleaning the mess, not him.

Satoru swallows dry, hands falling in a thump over the armchairs of the couch you’re both sitting at. It takes nearly all of his inhuman strength to keep them there, to not let them travel to the hem of your hiked up oversized shirt—Suguru’s shirt, if he recalls correctly—and place them over the heated flesh of your bare ass. It takes everything in him not to squeeze it, knead it, slap it until the skin is red and tender—an unique piece of art only he can make.

“Is that a yes?” You question eagerly, lashes fluttering and eyes sparkling in awe.

“No, baby.”

It’s hard to tell you a cold, numb no. How does ever Suguru has it in him to deny you anything? How does he ever gets you to behave, to make you an obedient good girl? Suguru had you perfectly trained, bunch of rules memorized and practically burned into the tissues of your brain you could recite them in your sleep.

That didn’t stop Satoru from spoiling you rotten, so much it’s a difficult task to fuck the brat out of you every time you spend a few hours alone with him (as Suguru likes to say)—but even if baby gets whatever she asks for during her time with the white-haired man, when she is back with Suguru what Daddy says goes, instantly.

Because you’re just too perfect for them. The apple of their eyes, their pretty baby, perfection in all senses. It makes it easy for you to be awfully good, to sit prettily in Satoru’s lap all the time, spreading kisses all over his face as his enamoured sapphire eyes don’t leave yours—to sleep almost every night attached to Suguru’s chest as if he’s the incarnation of the oxygen you need to breathe.

But even with all of that—Satoru doesn’t have the same power over you, at least not yet. You have Satoru wrapped around your dainty fingers, manicured nails scratching him in what could be a tantrum. He’s incapable of dealing with you all alone, unable to resist your charms, he fails and falls for you hard. You make him sick, you push him off his highs with a mere, chaste kiss, you leave him hopeless to find a cure—pretty, colored sweets popping inside his mouth all tasting of you.

You’re the most powerful drug he has yet to fully taste, a completely new disease that infects his body, mind and soul, so corrosive it sets him on fire and turn his bones into ashes.

“But ‘T—,” you begin, and he has to cut you off immediately, preventing his name to touch your parted lips.

The name is the key—his name in your saccharine sweet tongue is what will lock him away in the gates of the hell you’ve helped create yourself.

“No,” he chastises now rather severely, unnaturally serious for someone like him, hoarse voice sticking at his dry throat. He glances at you firmly as he feels too sober to maintain his posture, hands still refusing to touch you and lips moving away from yours by an inch. “Did you forget how grounded you are, silly baby?” He scoffs, sardonic grin breaking his rather angelic features and turning him into something darker.

You frown.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,”

“You did,”

“I did not”

“Oh, but you are,” Satoru’s tone falls an octave, and suddenly you shiver. You’ve heard about it a couple of times in the past—Suguru has mentioned how, from time to time, those heavenly features of him darken, but to you, that sounds so out of character. ‘Toru is bubbly and jolly and he likes to teased and he even has sweets for dinner with you. To you, that can’t be fully true, right?

His tense muscles relax a little, just a little, as his gaze is dangerously fixed on you. Salty tears wither in your lashes and your cheeks, swollen lips now pouting at him for his harsh accusation and his cold tone. “‘Cause you’ve been naughty, baby, haven’t you?” He insists.

Something definitely shifts, but you notice it. It goes from his flaming eyes to the icy touch, to the calm breathing—previously heavy—, to the devious smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips.

And you think about what it has been.

Usually, Satoru would have fallen by now. Usually, he would have been already caging you between the couch and his body, pounding into you and brushing your cervix with the head of his thick cock, slapping at your ass, pinching your tits and biting your lips until they’re swollen and bruised. Usually, he would have been chanting about how good you feel, how insane you drive him, how weak he is to you.

Usually, by this time, things would’ve been getting to an end. Suguru would have entered the living room of the big house they both own, would have probably lifted you like a ragdoll out of Satoru’s lap and would have scolded you for your little tricks, for seeking such a lewd activity when you’ve been recovering from the flu, for coaxing the Strongest into your desires. Usually, Satoru would have been scolded too by his best friend, and you would have cried his name while being carried into the bed where you most definitely would have got lectured for your little shenanigans.

But this isn’t usual at all.

“N-No,” you murmur, bleary-eyed gaze blinking at Satoru.

“You sure?”

You don’t know. Are you? Are you really sure you haven’t been naughty? You shouldn’t be chided for anything by Satoru, right? Because Suguru’s been in a really good mood lately, he even peppered you with kisses before bed, tugged you in with his favorite blanket before laying by your side, and before that he made you dinner and watched an episode of the show you’re currently catching on with you while eating together.

“Are—,” you begin, and for some reason you stumble on your words, unsure about how to proceed. Being talked to like that by Satoru was so strange, he never chastised, about anything, ever. All of a sudden you don’t feel so bold anymore, you’re not quite certain you’ll get away with yours this time—and suddenly, Satoru’s touch doesn’t feel warm, his arms no longer being your favorite, cozy shelter, transforming into something icy, devious, darker. “A–Are you mad at me, babe?”

“Oh yeah, babe,” He repeats slowly, slender fingers finding your thighs, adjusting his grasp on you for the first time, hands pressing your skin with a little bit more of force than needed. “You call me babe a lot, don’t you, pretty girl?”

You blink at him, head lolling to the side briefly. Little mewl of surprise scaping your lips due to how strong he’s gripping your thighs—pads digging the flesh and all.

“You don’t like it?”

“No, no, I do. Trust me, I do,”

“You want me to call you something else?”

He finds it amusing. The way your features crinkle in confusion, genuinely concerned for what he’s saying. It’s nice, he thinks, since he’s usually the one that’s dotting on you all the time—while you dot on your Daddy all the time.

“What is it that you call Suguru, sweetheart?” He asks almost conversationally, nose caressing your cheek delicately.

“Uh–huh,” you try to shift on his lap, backing a little from him, but Satoru catches you almost instantly—pushing your face against his torso forcefully. “He’s my Daddy,” you end up answering, voice a little muffled by his cashmere shirt.

And he yanks you up without notice, and you whine at the sudden movement.

“Mean” you scoff, the base of your hair being found by his ivory fingers. He catches the strands between them and tugs a little. “So mean!”

“Oh, I’m mean, I’m super mean,” he agrees with a devilish smile spreading from the tip of his lips to his full face. “But you know what you are? An ungrateful brat. And do you know what happens to spoiled, rude and ungrateful brats? They get punished by their daddies,”

You open your mouth to respond, but you don’t get a chance to as he lifts both of you up from the couch and pushes you over the marble counter of the kitchen, whole body against the cold, solid surface. The action alone knocks a little cry from your chest, glistening tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. And he coos at the sight, he mocks you, looks and talks to you in such a patronizing way you’re complaining about how he can’t scold you, that he’s not Suguru.

“You’re not my D—,”

“Go on, finish that sentence, I dare you,” he warns, azure eyes going completely dark as he hovers over you, steady hands ripping you off of Suguru’s shirt. “I’ll make sure you’re not able to sit straight for a month,”

This time, you’re the one that swallows dry.

And, oh, the way your heart pounds violently inside your rip cage. The way your cunt throbs at the mere image of Satoru stripping himself off his clothes and his dreamy blue eyes don’t move an inch from you, the way your tummy flutters and heat descends all over your now naked body in awe—eagerly expecting his touch, awaiting for him, wanting him to take his way and completely obliterate you.

It’s exciting to push the boundaries a little, test the limits of what’s known and jump into the void. It’s dangerous—with Satoru, it’s unbelievably deadly—, but it sends sparks through your veins. It makes your heart roll, makes you want him even more than before.

You sniff, remnants of tears drying your heated cheeks and little squeals still rumbling through your throat.

“Aw, made our sweet princess cry,” Satoru coos at you, freeing his cock out of his trousers—and it’s worth drooling for, in all honesty, with his rosy pink shade and his angry blushed tip, with his irregularly large violet-like veins adorning both sides, and specially with the dim precum that shines beautifully under the kitchen lights.

He gives it a few pumps, and you can’t help but make grabby hands at him—whiny pout morphing your lips as the sobs return, but this time far from covering up the pain, tears now cracking neediness.

“I want you,” you hiccup as he gets closer, grabbing his shoulders as he positions himself over you.

And you feel him, ghosting the tip of his throbbing cock at your little hole, cold digits caressing your breasts—thumbs rolling your nipples and stealing a soft moan from your lips that Satoru catches quickly with his mouth, merging the two of you in a harsh kiss.

“Mhm,” he’s saying and you yelp, teeth biting at your swell and it’s rough, salty, streaks of crimson with a taste of iron coating him. “Now you want me? But I don’t think you deserve it at all,”

“‘Toru—,”

One slap, straight to your thigh.

“That’s not my name, is it?”

You’ve never felt this kind of exciting fire with him before. It had never been so…primal, so needy, so desperate, entire body jolting in anticipation and tummy in knots out of anticipation. It makes your heart vibrate rapidly behind the ribs, mouth practically watering at the sight of him spiraling in such a state because of you.

“You’re not gonna say it?” He insists, tongue catching your nipple. It’s cold and it sends shivers down your spine, provoking delicious shrieks that resonate in his ears and make his blood run faster. He drives the tip of his cock from the entrance, collecting all your juices and directing it to your puffy clit, all to start circling around the bud—one, two, three, four and more times in a nonstop motion.

It’s has you on edge, really. Body trembling and mind going hazy—all the previous lazy dry humping finally getting to your nerves, pussy clenching the air and hot breath colliding viciously against the lanky man.

“Please,” you beg, quivering under his touch. “Please, ‘Toru, I need you,”

“Not my name, sweet thing,” he sighs in a disappointed tone and, for a moment, you think he actually sounds sorry to prolongue this. But you know he isn’t. Not even close, not even a little bit. “Use the right word and maybe I’ll consider letting you cum tonight,”

The word is there, truth be told, dancing curiously at the insides of your mouth, gagging you up and completely searing his whole name.

It’ll just take a little push to make it go out.

“I—I,”

“Say it,” his hand runs to your neck, fingers wrapping around it and mouth printing an obscure mark to your chin—sucking violently at the skin, a combination of gritted teeth and bloodied lips.

He doesn’t stop the movements of his cock on your clit for a second, and you know he’s starting to get too sensitive himself—cracked groans rumbling from his chest, sloppy hips rolling and nearly slipping inside of your cunt once and for all. Your blood rushes to your ears, eyes shutting close as a new sobs rip through parted lips and delicated nails scratch the skin of his broad shoulders. Heat builds in your belly and you know you’re close—so close to cumming around nothing, merely by the fast friction of his throbbing cock over your clit.

And he notices it at the same you do, so he pulls out and flips you over the marble counter before you can reflect on what he’s doing.

“N–No! Sator—,”

“How empty is that pretty little head of yours, uh?” Condescending. His voice his painfully condescending, and so is his touch, so are his hands smacking your ass as the side of your face hits the counter. “You’re not cumming until you say the word,”

It’s a simple word, four letters that you have to spill, wrap your skilled tongue around it and push it through your swollen lips and into his ears. That is all you have to do. So you do.

“Daddy!” You finally yelp, vocal chords shaking the word out like a quake. It’s pathetic, even, how five simple letters merge into cries, becoming an incoherent mess that all can do is say it repeatedly. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. The name buries deeply in his ears and finds a home in the roots of his heart, forcing an explosion of something he can’t quite describe onto his veins. It reduces him to ashes, it revolves everything in his mind and suddenly—suddenly he’s back in control, suddenly he’s not a wandering dog anymore begging go you, suddenly he doesn’t turn into pieces for you to pick up.

Still, you drive him insane. Still, he’s weak to you. But you’re no longer in control and that fuels him like nothing will ever do.

And all your babbling keeps you from catching on his moves until he’s already sinking in your cunt roughly. You sob at the intrusion, pain exploding in your stomach and ache consuming you by the burning stretch.

“S-So good, baby, my baby is so good,” is all he grunts out, pressing his forehead into the back of your head.

He fucks you raw, more than he has ever done before. He fucks you so hard your limbs go numb and the only thing that stays clearly in your mind is that he’s also your Daddy now. He thrusts his hips into yours intensely, so much he basically has you bouncing the marble, and you scream so much it wouldn’t be a surprise if Suguru runs out of the room to make sure no one is slaughtering you, their sweet little princess.

It doesn’t take much after that for you to let go, with body and cervix bruised by his hands and cock, cumming within minutes of hips thrusting into your tiny hole. And he fucks you full of his cum, too. Too many times for you to properly remember the exact number, too much that you feel it dripping from your cunt, all over your thighs and into the counter—marble stained with the sticky substance. And he doesn’t stop at that, either, not until your face, your breasts, your belly and both your holes are so full of his cum you’re close to drooling it, too.

.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀♡⠀⠀⠀.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀♡⠀⠀⠀.

“You left a whole damn hickey on her face, dude,” Suguru’s snickering and he sounds so grumpy as he checks out your sleeping figure curled around his torso, sulky eyes finding the ones of his best friend to recrminate not so silently. “I’m not even that sure is a hickey. That looks like a goddamn punch straight to the jaw,” He then glances down at Satoru, who leans against the wall of the living room, eyebrows raised and lips chopping mindlessly around a cigarette. “Did you punched my baby?”

“Shut up,” Satoru snorts, crystal eyes rolling in annoyance. “Aren’t ya seeing that smile on her face? She’s sleeping like a baby, thanks to me. And she finally has some respect for me, so, we both win,”

“Pretty sure she had things to do early today,” Suguru mumbles, one hand holding the cigarette and the other mindlessly caressing your back above the shirt—Satoru’s shirt now—that covers your frame. “And in the afternoon, too. Guess we gotta let her sleep,”

“Agree,” Satoru walks to both of you, a shit eating grin flashing his features. “Let her rest and gain some energy. She’ll need it to give a warm morning to her favorite Daddy,”

And Suguru has something to say about that—because he’s sure his the favorite Daddy. But now Satoru thinks the same, too.

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crystlizabeth · 5 months

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You belong to me..

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Shadow!femreader

Summery: she may have been a shadow and worked for graves but when your commanders friendliness becomes a bit to touchy it’s a problem, you don’t touch pretty things that belong to Simon Riley.

Warnings: possessiveness, unprotected sex, jealousy, praising, mentions of blood, not proofread

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

Simon hated watching those shadows touch you, even if it was ‘friendly’. You smiled at every praise that left Graves lips of how you did such a good job, the pat to your back to low for Simon’s liking and the way he let his hand drag as he walked away. Simon couldn’t help but wonder how Graves was towards you when nobody was around, even if he was your commander your superior he wasn’t allowed to touch you like that. Simon clenched his fist as you stood there soon turning towards him, your gaze different a look a smile that was only meant for him displayed on your pretty face.

A sweet face that he’d have buried in a pillow tears go pleasure running down you face. You saw the way his eyes watched you his dark eyes hooded dangerously staring you down. Price catching Simon’s attention was the only thing that made him look away from you, one last glance towards you before following Price.

Even with that gold ring on your finger signafying that you where his, the last name on your Files no longer yours but his. It wouldn’t be enough he wanted you to himself he had begged price multiple times to call a transfer of you to 141 but Graves always declined because you worked for the United States, the Shadows you belonged to Graves.

But jealousy gets the best of everyone right?

Simons hands grabbing the side of Phillips vest slamming him against the wall, “what crawled up your ass and died Lieutenant.” Graves groaned.

“Why is it you always find your hands on my wife.” Simon spoke his face close to Phillips, his voice dark.

An ugly smirk appeared on Phillips face the cocky twat only shrugged his shoulders a short reply “She’s nice, a good asset to me. She is a good asset.”

That right there if he could without geting put away for life would have taken his knife and silt Phillips throat, carving the commander inside out and feed it to his Shadows and Shepherd himself. Instead Ghost fist connected to his face, more than once, enough to leave blood on his hands and the shirt he wore. He let go of Graves letting him slide down the wall, “if you’re smart, you’ll keep your hands to yourself and mouth shut.” Simon spike lowly leaning down to make eye contact with him.

“I don’t see what she sees in you…” Phillip coughed wiping the blood from his nose.

Simon stayed silent, he didn’t need to answer that because you saw him for him he didn’t have to explain what you saw in him to someone who’s been wanting you to themselves. “I’ll give her the world a safe home and face to look at… your really think she’ll stick around you forever, please. I see her more day out of the year you do why do you think I decline those transfers from your captain. Just to spite you and help her forget you.” Phillip said blood dripping from his toothy smile.

Simon was fuming, his knuckles splitting even more from clenching them. Who did graves think he was? You stuck around someone like that, even bleeding and in pain graves still chose to test his limits.

One punch after another Simon was on top of him graves of course fighting back but a man’s rage was different few more punches and he stopped. Phillip was still alive he was gonna leave him there to rot nobody would believe him he was a traitor staying in UK soil this was bound to happen. And even then Simon had proof that it was just self defense.

Grabbing Philips hair making him look up at Him “Ya listen here, stay the fuck off my wife she can work for your or you’ll be smart and start a transfer. But may god help you if you lay a finger on her again.” Simon spoke harshly finishing by pushing Graves against the wall.

The click of your door opening startled you awake, but the figure that stood in the hall light that poured into your room made you less tense. “Simon..you can be in here..” your voice groggy, your eyes scanning over him at yuh turn your light on. He was covered in blood his mask held in his left hand as he looked at you.

You quickly got you closing your door pushing him to the bed sitting him down “who did this to you.. Simon.” You spoke lifting the bloody shirt off his head his blond hair sticking up.

“It’s not mine.”

It’s not his? Who’s was it then, who pushed him over the edge just enough. Was he gonna get in trouble for this, arrested. “Love stop the worrying..” he spoke breaking you out of your thoughts his large hands pulling you towards him.

He pulled you in close sitting you in his lap your thighs falling around his waist, the feeling of his hands grabbing your face made you wince a bit the feeling of dried blood on his hands made you cringe.

“You belong to me..” he spoke his dark eyes penetrating yours. “You belong to me.” His words stern and harsh.

“Say it.”

“I belong to you Simon.” You spoke his hands falling down your face his hands finding the bottom of your shirt lifting it over your head. You could feel the tension radiating of his skin, he was gonna take his stress and the rest of his anger out on you.

“Good girl, say it again, tell me I’m allowed to have you as I please.” He spoke his lips kissing your neck.

You obeyed “ I belong you you Simon, take me. Have me I’m yours.”

His lips met your kissing you so hungrily he was here to remind you who you belonged to. His hand grabbed the band if your panties pulling his hand back harshly snapping them at the pulling them if you your bare cunt exposed to his trousers. He lifted you up dropping your body on the the mattress as he undid his pants, quickly finding himself on top of you.

“Are you sure.”

“Take me Simon, I’m yours.”

That’s all he needed to hear, his fat head spreading your wet folds apart as he pushing into you. It’s been a minute since he’s been in you but your walls always seemed to mold around him so nicely, those gorgeous sounds you made slipping from your lips as he started moving.

The sound of skin slapping as he fucked into your poor cunt, you drooled for him. He knew how to make a mess out of you, your nails digging into his back as he bullied your pretty pussy. Even with every hard thrust he loved you so well, kissing you so tenderly as your cried out to him. You soft whimpers pleading for him drive him crazy this is how he knew you where his, his to destroy, his to love.

Your finger tangled his his blonde curls tugging on them as he made love to you cradling your head your knees pressed to your chest, he felt every inch of you. “Please don’t stop Si, god please don’t stop.” You cried out.

He didn’t the tightness of your walls staring to clamp around him was enough to bring him to his edge the moans that escaped your lips was enough to make him cum knowing that he made you this way. Your body folded into a mating press as you came on his fat cock. Your pleds for him to cum in you, that you wanted him to fill you marking you as his once again make you need him for days after. His thick seed filling up your puffy cunt, his white nut spilling out the sides as he fucked it into you.

“Common take it, yeah atta girl fucking take it.” He growled pumping in and out of you your nails digging into his biceps the feeling of his thick nut filling you making your eyes roll back.

His cock still in you as he sat up letting your legs fall down your chest falling up and down heavily, your body glistening from sweat. You were gonna be walking funny the next morning that’s for sure, “I didn’t hurt you right?” He asks his calluses hands gliding up and down your torso.

You shook your head no, “good..” he said leaning down kissing your lips tenderly.

“Let’s get you cleaned up yeah..”

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

Simon smut!! I have a Johnny one coming sooner or later!!

#ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x black reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley cod #ghost x black reader #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #x black reader #black fem reader #phillip graves

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astrobaeza · 7 months

Text

astrology hot-takes 🪩

credit goes to @astrobaeza <3

DISCLAIMER: these are MY observations :)

🪩 cancer placements are not the crybaby's you think they are. rather than outright emotional, I think cancer placements are super intuitive -- they're in touch with their's and other's emotions and (often) know when to express them or identify them. powerful people, love you guys <3

🪩 aries placements can be so selfish :( it's a combination of the fire and cardinal energy --> super passionate but can also be too forthright with themselves and how they feel, often times coming off as dominant. really competitive as well, with everyone around them

🪩 scorpio men have a distinct "twinkle" in their eye (some call it crazy lol)

🪩 libras and leos both want attention but for different reasons. libras want attention for their relationships while leos want attention in order to have a relationship with them. leos are more upfront about their "me" attitude while libras hide their need for attention through being super social and having a lot of friends.

🪩 12th house placements shine brighter and are more powerful than 10th house placements. this is because 10th house placements are fundmanetally meant to be known for "themselves" -- could be for good or bad. while 12th house stelliums have the power to be known for the impact and influence they have on others, which I think is more powerful.

🪩 tw! : 4th house placements in synastry are not good for people who grew up in abusive homes. when someone's planets fall near your IC (midpoint in the 4th House, opposite the midheaven), it usually indicates familiarity and feeling like home to them or one another. for people who did not grow up in good homes or were abused, this familiarity could develop into a trauma bond! pls be careful.

🪩 fame degrees and placements are not fun -- it's karma. being famous is not always glitter and glamour. though it's still a fortunate position to be in, it's hard (and sometimes even life threatening) to be famous. it is a debt to the public to be (yes, seen and adored) but also scrutinized for who you are. definitely not for the weak.

🪩 geminis are what aquarius' wish they were. aquarius definitely has a complex for wanting to be different, unique, and special. I've definitely seen this play out into superiority complexes and even God complexes. geminis naturally stand out for their wit, charm, and intelligence with everyone that they meet. I feel like Geminis, though they get a bad rep, are the ones that really can talk to anyone.

🪩 saggitarius are the best fire sign. they are the only mutuable fire sign, while Leo is a fixed sign and Aries is cardinal. due to this, they still embody the positives of fire energy -- playfulness, fun, energetic, free-spirited -- but they are also most adaptable relative to the others. Leos and Aries (still) definitely on that selfish streak.

🪩 the real mean girls of the zodiac are sisters --> pisces and virgo. pisces and virgos both use their intuitive, serving nature for harm. they figure out what your weaknesses are by faking care, getting to know you deeply, and use that at a later time to trigger you! also can be hypercritical, emotionally ab*sive, and manipulative.

🪩 the "best" synastry should actually vary zodiac to zodiac, chart to chart. 7th house synastry isn't ideal for everyone --> for example, an aquarius might want more 11th house synastry with their partner due to their friendly nature. definitely have to consider the whole chart, but not everyone's needs or wants in a partnership coincide with the placements in one another's charts. I know couples with no traditional synastry placements that have lasted longer than couples with them!

🪩 taurus placements love being comfy / keeping their comfort items with them. maybe it's because they're Venus-ruled, but taurus placements love cozy sweaters, blankets, and have specific comfort foods. a taurus friend has a specific blanket for different activities! but of course, has great taste in these things and only wants the best. being cozy and attractive is essential for their well-being!

follow @astrobaeza to change your life 🌟

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elliescoolerwife · 3 months

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Nazi dumbfuck

Being against murder and genocide is not a nazi ideology but go off I guess.

If anyone is nazi, it’s zionists.

Lets take a look:

In particular, the Nazis embraced the false idea that Jews were a separate and inferior race. - Israeli politicians have called palestinian children the “children off darkness” and israelis “the children of light”. Also, they’ve called Palestinians animals and not humans and therefore should be treated as such.

the Nazis referred to Jews as a “parasitic race.” - there is posters around Israel and on the internet created by Israelis where they compare palestinians to parasites - saying that they’re parasites to the israeli soil and needs to be removed.

Nazis wanted to separate Jews and Aryan Germans. They tried to force Jews to leave Germany. Not only do Israelis see Palestinians as animals, they’ve displaced 2 million Palestinians. Do you have any idea of what’s going on in Rafah rn?

Those whom the Nazis identified as non-Aryans (including Jews) were persecuted and discriminated against. Israelis have murdered 700.000 palestinians and removed their access to water, food and medical care. Israelis have been protesting by sitting in front of vehicles with medical equipment so gazans don’t get help. Israel have been dropping white phosphorus for 10 years so Palestinians either 1. Get burned. 2. Get killed by the water they drink that contains that white phosphorus. PS! White phosphorus is illegal but not when israelis do it🤡

the Nazis carried out forced sterilizations of certain groups whom they considered inferior.. lets swich our focus from Palestinians and lets take a look at the black people in Israel, lot of them ethiopians, that have been forced to sterilize themselves because israelis don’t want “black” in their jewish line. They want to keep it “clean” and not let black genes, especially not when those black people have converted and aren’t “real” jews. Do you remember who also wanted to keep their race clean? Does it sound familiar?

The Nazis believed that races were destined to wage war against each other. For them, war was a way for the Aryan race to gain land and resources. Specifically, the Nazis wanted to conquer territory in eastern Europe. They planned to remove, dominate, or murder the people who lived there. They believed that Aryan Germans should control this land because they were the supposed master race. Israelis believe that they are Gods chosen people and therefore owns that land. They have removed, dominated and murderer Palestinians who live there to take that land from them, claiming they are the superior race because God chose them. Therefore, they have every right to take that territory from the indigenous people.

Nazis also falsely claimed that all Jews were an existential threat to Germany and that they had to be destroyed. Israelis claim that this “war” will not be over until total victory - meaning until every Palestinian is dead or removed. They celebrated when north gaza looked like a desert, because the “parasites” who was a threath to Israel is now gone. And now Netanyahu is telling these parasites to leave Rafah, the claimed “safe space” or else they get murdered there too. And lets remember that Israelis don’t discriminate. They murder all Palestinians! Muslims, Christians, jews. All of them. And anyone who supports them.

And don’t even dare to say the Hamas because Israel never cared about Hamas nor did Hamas exist when this started. They have claimed that they need to murder children in order to prevent them from growing up and joining hamas. Children. Women. Elderly.

Bold of you to ask this anonymously, though.

#palestine #free palestine #free gaza #israel #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #ellie williams #the last of us #free israel #Ew but it needs to find them #tlou #ellie williams x reader #i’m just putting lots of tags #genocide #antisemitism

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peachedtv · 1 year

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•* Jealous Jjk Menˏˋ°

╰┈➤ ❝overview:❞ gojo, geto, yuji, toji, megumi x f!reader (separately)

╰┈➤ ❝ content warnings: ❞ fuckboy!gojo, established relationship for geto yuji megumi, yandere tendencies, dubcon/noncon kissing, toxic, possessiveness, Satoru calls reader a whore in his thoughts, depictions of light violence (not against reader or love interests), suggestive, mentions of sex, reader is kinda stalked by toji ig??,

╰┈➤ ❝wordcount:❞ ~600 words each, total ~3k

Satoru is a confident man, and why wouldn't he be? He knows he's fucking hot, that women fall at his feet, that he alone stands superior to so many.

And so every time he sees a nice, pretty-looking thing, he's got to have her wrapped around his finger (before having them wrapped up in his sheets)

Intentionally or not, he's unapologetically seduced one taken woman after another, fucking them nice and full before he disappears into thin air. He's got a big fat god complex, and he's got it for a good reason.

So when you come around as the newest jujutsu teacher, batting your doe eyes, your outfits hugging your body a little too well, he knows he's got his next target.

And it goes as easily as he expects. Soon, you're laughing with him at his stupid jokes and antics, ruffling his hair when he teases his students too much. You're intoxicating, and he just can't wait to see more of you, to see all of you.

He's so full of himself that he doesn't even notice how close you and your old high school friend are getting. Not until he's walking down the street, smirking to himself at the hushed whispers of how eye-catching he looks, when he sees you.

You're smiling so brightly, so pretty, yet why isn't it with him? He's seen that smile, he thought it was for his eyes alone, so why are you showing it to another guy? What a fucking whore.

He's livid, nearly dropping the bag he was holding from how distracted he became. Why the fuck is he jealous? How is he jealous?

Satoru's never been in love, and he doesn't want to be. He's never cared about a woman in the slightest, heartlessly leaving each and every one of them as tears welled in their eyes. So why does he feel his fist clenching in anger when he sees you smiling with this guy?

He watches you carefully, tilting his chin downward to see you more clearly, without his sunglasses. His hands lazily shove themselves into his pockets, gaze half-lidded with a light scowl

It's not until the guy gently pats you on the head, affectionately messing up your hair does he truly fucking loses it

Before he knows it, the guy's wrist is twisted up in Satoru's hand, fear plastered across the dude's face before he flicks his arm away. Shoving himself between you two.

'What do we have here, huh?'

And yet, even when he's protecting you, you're not even fucking thankful. Going off, asking why he would do that, confusion on your face as you comfort the guy and apologize over and over.

He sees red, harshly grabbing your arm and dragging you away to jujutsu tech. You're yelling out, telling him how much it hurts, yet he doesn't care. Thats not the fucking problem right now, so why don't you shut the fuck up?

Once you two arrive, you're thrown right against a wall, his hand punching the space next to you, rubble crumbling down from the impact. Yet that's not what truly shocked you, it's how his other hand tugged your chin up, his lips pressing right up against you.

You're gasping, and he gladly takes it as an invitation for his tongue to wrap up against yours, kissing you sloppy and rough.

Even though you're scared, even though you're trembling under his hold, you find yourself closing your eyes when he tangles his hand into your hair. Your heart was doing backflips, and you felt a sense of longing when he pulled away.

'That's right,' Satoru smiled, 'You're mine.'

Geto was a calm man. Always speaking respectfully, never losing his cool, and smiling to you so cooly every time you two went out anywhere together. He was the best boyfriend to you, and you couldn't be any happier. He knew that you were his and he was yours. He was stable.

Thus, with his stability, he wasn't bothered when Satoru invited you both to a club. He hadn't slept too well the night before, resting himself on the couch as he waited for you to get ready. Yet when you walked down the stairs, he felt his heart completely go haywire.

He felt his eyes go to every indecent spot someone could think of, and suddenly, the apartment you two shared felt a little too hot. He couldn't keep his eyes off your thighs, off your waist, off your breasts. All of which were hugged so well in that pretty little dress of yours.

'What do you think?' You giggled cheerfully, giving him a full spin before you hugged him tightly. And it wasn't until you asked did he finally remember where you two were going.

He felt an odd burn spiral inside of him. He thought about the perverted guys that would be in the club, thought of his fuckboy best friend, and Geto started to feel a little concerned.

Yet, he didn't show it in the slightest. He trusted you, he knew you were undoubtedly loyal to him, and he was for you. He smiled, immediately getting down to one knee and kissing your hand.

'You are stunning.' He kept his eyes locked on yours, and you couldn't get how hard you blushed and stammered at how you two needed to get going.

Once the two of you had arrived, he felt his walls soar sky-high when he saw Satoru greeting you with a hug that lasted a little too long. He snaked his hand about your waist, kissing the top of your head before lightly greeting Satoru aswell.

Once you had your fill of dancing, he offered to fetch you both some drinks. You smiled to him so pretty, pecking his cheek before he left.

When he came back, he saw some guy had joined your table. The moment the guy had reached out to take your hand, he slammed the drinks onto the table and greeted you affectionately.

Geto sat right next to you, across from the man. The air was so fucking thick, and his gaze was knocked onto the guy. Geto sizing him up as he draped his arm onto your shoulders, pulling you against his chest.

The guy was so intimidated he ended up stuttering some excuse to leave, Geto staring him down the whole time as the guy shuffled his belongings.

'Was that a friend?' He rubbed his palm against your upper arm. You hummed in response, laughing lightly. 'I can tell that you're jealous, silly.' And he simply took another sip out of his drink. 'Hey, common. Of course I would be.' He whined, his hand playing into your hair as he pressed a gentle kiss upon your forehead.

'I want you all to myself.'

Yuji was such a little simp for you. He would just start smiling while you two walked about, smiling on how lucky he was to have a pretty girl like you. He was so happy with you it fluttered his heart, even Sukuna would shit on him for how giddy he was whenever you were around.

Both you and Yuji shared a class, and even at school, he never hesitated to cup your face into his hands and press his lips against yours, sometimes if he felt a bit goofy he'd even slap your ass and run away when you chased him to return the favour. Yuji was in love.

And even though Yuji knew how great of a woman you were, he was never intimidated by it. He appreciated your entire being, and never felt threatened whenever someone was bold enough to hit on you in front of him. He'd simply smile confidently, watching you reject the guy respectfully. 'Thats my girl.'

In the end, Yuji trusted you with everything. He wasn't the type to be jealous at all, at least..that's what he thought.

It was after an especially rough nightmare when his control over Sukuna faltered, tattoos quickly spread over his body as he was forced into the back of his own mind.

Yet there you were, still peacefully sleeping as his little spoon, unaware of the beast that had awaken. Your chest rose and fell so gently, lashes delicately framing your eyes, nightdress hiking up to your thighs just enough. So how could you blame Sukuna when he gently pulled you to sleep on his chest?

When you came to, you were still wrecked with sleepiness. You lazily shuffled up to ‘Yuji’, mumbling a good morning as you gave him a peck on the lips. Yet, you were greatly surprised when a hand tangled into your hair, holding you in place as the kiss turned more sensual. A tongue slipping past your lips, a hand travelling up to rest on your hip.

His hand took your breast, twisting about a nipple as he smiled against you. ‘Yuji’ was being…so bold. Too bold.

You opened your eyes and nearly choked when you noticed the tattoos scattered across your boyfriend’s face. What happened?!

When Yuji regained control, he couldnt help but be all pouty with you. Was your baby boy…jealous?!

Before you knew it, Yuji was so clingy after that. He’d hug you lazily, and with his height and muscle, you couldn’t move the overgrown pulpy off you. Whenever you’d whine about having to get to work, he’d nuzzle his nose into your neck before sluggishly letting you change.

You couldn’t help but giggle as Yuji kept slapping Sukuna’s mouth on his cheek as a form of punishment. But what really amused you was how Yuji would slap your ass before announcing ‘See that, Sukuna? You haven’t had that with Y/N before, huh? Total score!’

Yet, everytime after that morning, you noticed Yuji become much too flustered whenever you came near. Soon enough, you saw how his eyes travelled back between the palm of his hand and your breast—and you put two and two together. He’d never felt up your tits!

You wanted to soothe Yuji’s perverted little mind. So during the next makeout session, you took his hand and pressed it right up onto your boobs. Yuji’s eyes shot open but you didn’t take it to stop the kiss, instead, laughing to yourself as you felt his curious hands give a light squeeze.

After that day, Yuji didn’t feel jealous in the slightest. He’d randomly be standing about before giggling to himself about your ‘godly tities’

God, you’ve fallen in love with a total goof.

Ever since Toji’s wife had passed, he couldn’t help the way his morality shattered about him. He missed her. He missed her so fucking much.

Every now and then, his memory would fade back to when his son was first born, his wife gently holding the child in her arms, head tilted to the side as she cooed and giggled.

And with that repeated memory, came even more anger when he realized his wife was gone.

He’d take out his anger on one Jujutsu Sorcerer after another, eventually building his reputation as a renouned assasin. So he wasn’t phased when someone offered him a fat stack of cash in return for your life.

At first, Toji didn’t care. He was even happy about it, sharpening his blade while imagining all the casinos and expensive alcohol he could purchase after his payout. He couldn’t care less about the sentimental value of your life, he was paid for a job and he’d be more than happy to soothe his bloodlust for the day.

So, when he cornered you into an alleyway, sinking a blade down into your gut, he’d officially secured his paycheck. While he nonchalantly walked over to you, you stumbled away from him in a panic. It hurt, it really did hurt. And you tried your best to defend yourself as you ran the best you could out the alleyway.

God, you were such a boring fight, he thought. But it wasnt until he realized why you had run out the alley.

In the near street, a little boy bad ran into the incoming traffic after his ball. You yelled out to the child, using your cursed technique to slow the car the best you could before you swooped the boy up into your arms.

You panted heavily, the blood oozing from your stomach wiping itself onto the boy’s clothes. But you did your best to pat the kid’s head, smiling to him and soothing his racing nerves. You were so…motherly. Caring. Sweet. You didn’t care for the chance you had to hitch a ride on the roof of that car, to run away from your inpending death.

You went out of your way to save and cradle this stranger’s child, and Toji saw a part of your heart that softened his own.

When you turned around, gaze stiffening as you prepared for your final moments—he was gone. No where to be seen. But he wasn’t gone for long.

Soon, he was everywhere you went. God, did this guy not have a life? Was he taunting you before killing you off? Every morning he’d be on the same route of your jog. He’d be sitting at your favorite cafe, he’d be whistling at the grocery store as you clicked your tongue in annoyance.

But what really surprised you was how he’d beat up any catcallers that harrassed you, how he’d pick up your keys if you happened to drop them, how he’d accidentally tap his card when you tried paying for your coffee. You were so confused with this man.

It wasn’t long until you softened up to him too, you both would talk lightly during every morning run, buy coffee together, and he’d walk you to work.

So no duh you said yes when he asked you to dinner

He was so giddy as he walked to the restaurant you chose, stopping outside the enterance and adjusting his tie in the reflective glass before stepping in. But he became confused when you were on the brink of tears from laughing at something.

He realized that at those one way windows…he had adjusted his tie and took deep breaths right infront of you…without him knowing a crumb of it. You thought that was so cute.

The night was great, until it became a little…awkward. And Toji noticed your discomfort, asking you what was wrong.

‘The waiter, he’s my ex.’ Toji took your hand reassuringly, telling you he’d be sure to keep the bastard in check.

But when the end of the dinner came, and your ex had attached a note to your bill with his new number and a pathetic ‘You’re so sexy, call me.’ Toji couldn’t keep still anymore.

He stood right up, walking over to your ex as the guy confidently strided away, yet all that radiating glory washed away with Toji grabbing the dude’s collar and slamming him into the wall.

‘Don’t fuck with me. You’ve long lost her.’

The guy was shaking, muttering nonsensical apologies. But it wasn’t until you stepped in and asked Toji to let the loser go, that he wasn’t worth it, did Toji drop the guy into the floor.

That didn’t stop him from intimidating the fuck out of the staff and owner, eventually getting your ex fired and your dinner being complimentary.

Toji was still restless. He wanted your night to be perfect, so he dragged you two out to a bar for some light drinks to make up for the whole drama at the restaurant.

And boy was he such a gentleman. Opening doors, kissing your hand lightly, gently taking your hair to his hand—he was such a dream.

By the end of the night, you couldn’t help it when both the wisps of alcohol and your fluttering heart meekly asked for the two of you to be official. Toji merely smirked to you, grabbing hold of your chin and kissing you dominantly before whispering down to you.

‘Let’s make it official, then. Ms. Zen’in.’

Megumi is so gentle with you, you can’t get over how much he makes your heart flutter.

Ever since you two got together, he’d meekly hold your hand like a lost little kid whenever you guys went out, a fat blush dusted all over his face when you’d give him a reassuring squeeze to tell him you don’t mind holding hands.

You loved him so much, and he loved you just so much more. Everytime he saw you he’d feel his eyes widen and heart stop, as though the world around would come to a halt just for you.

But this time, his heart stopped for a different reason.

When Gojo had decided to engage in team-mock-battles, Megumi felt dropped down when he saw you guys weren’t on the same team. You were paired with Yuji, while he was with Nobara.

Megumi knows you’re strong, but he just can’t keep himself together at the thought of trying to take you down with his demon dogs—so he decides to target Yuji instead.

It wasn’t until his dog lurged forward, jaw ready to bite right onto Yuji, did you tackle your partner out of harms way. Immediately falling right in top of him. You weren’t embarrassed, purely focused on the mission as you scrambled to get up and drag Yuji by the wrist to safer ground. But that didn’t stop the pang in Megumi’s chest seeing you hold someone else.

Yes, he knows its a mock battle, and he knows in his heart that you and Yuji would never betray him. But he can’t help but become a little more aggressive in his attacks to Itadori for the rest of the day.

When the battle ended, Megumi was panting heavily, bangs stuck to his forehead from the sweat, as he relinquished his cursed spirits. Gojo pat his back.

‘I haven’t seen you so engaged in a while. I wonder what triggered you!’ He teased Megumi, they both knew the answer, and Megumi knew the blindfolded bastard was just messing with him. He slapped Gojo’s hand away and was about to retort something back when you called out to him.

You ran to him as fast as you could, tackling Megumi into the floor with you on top of him. In that moment, Megumi saw the difference first-hand.

While you tackled Yuji with a panicked expression before scrambling up without any word—with Megumi, he noticed how you held the back of his head up to not hit it against the ground. He noticed how your other hand rested on his chest, petting him reassuringly. He saw that glint in your eyes, the glint of absolute love that resembled how he looked at you with so much endearment.

What he had with you doesn’t compare to anything else in the world. Megumi chastised himself mentally for ever getting jealous.

‘I love you, you know that? I love you so, so much.’

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spacedace · 1 year

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I love the posts talking about how everyone in the BatFam keeps stealing all of Dick's friends and it made me think of a dc x dp thing where Dick keeps stealing the Fentons from his various siblings.

Dick and Jazz become best friends, bonding over their Eldest Sister Complex, worrying over their younger siblings and the stress of trying to be the diplomats between their parents and younger siblings. They get into their shared trauma of a younger brother dying and coming back and how they feel like they're not doing enough to help and help each other with the hard days.

All while Jason is annoyed that his older brother keeps stealing his girlfriend so they can have a No-Siblings Spa Day.

Danny thinks Dick is the coolest dude ever and looks up to him as someone who started being a vigilante at a young age and knows hoe hard it is to be a kid fighting guys bigger and meaner than you. They have the most god awful pun competitions where the only true loser is everyone else stuck listening to them. Dick teaches Danny insane aerial stunts and they have fun giving everyone around them heart attacks by throwing themselves off the highest buildings possible.

Tim is losing his mind because Dick will just drop in while he and Danny are mid date and derail everything by delivering the worst joke Tim had heard in his life and the two are off trying to out cornball each other.

Damian thinks he's safe because he and Elle aren't dating - aro/ace queer platonic Damian/Elle superiority- but NO, Elle and Dick have a blast hanging out and pranking everyone and being total chaos gremlins. And they talk about the joys of traveling around and Dick talks about how that was one of the hardest things about living with Bruce after his parents were killed was that he was suddenly stuck in one place and then he and Elle are off on a spontaneous road trip.

Damian gets a call from Elle that she can’t join him for dinner because she and Richard are in Peru and about to get on a boat to they don't know where but they probably won't have cell service for a while.

Just, Dick getting his revenge on his siblings by "stealing" the Fentons from them 😂

#dc x dp #dp x dc #batman #danny phantom #dick grayson #jazz fenton #danny fenton #danielle fenton #dani phantom #jason todd #tim drake #ace damian wayne #anger management #brain dead #queer platonic damian and danielle #let 👏 dick 👏 have 👏 vengence 👏#(by being besties with all his younger bros' significant others)#put this under things that for sure are going to end up in the Uncle Oz AU lol

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zepskies · 9 months

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So, how would Ben react if he and the reader went clothes-shopping for him and he overhears the saleswomen talking to themselves about how insanely hot he was (and how they’d climb him like a tree, because hello!) While he’s flattered, he sees the reader overhearing them, and she’s visibly annoyed/upset by it? Up to you if she calls them out on it, or spirals and says nothing, or whatever!

Ooooh thank you for this request, my friend!! ❤️❤️

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female Reader Word Count: 1,100 Warnings: 18+ only! A little smutty towards the end. 😘

Imagine: Getting jealous over this man. 💚

"My clothes are fine," Ben is still insisting, even as you hold up a crisp, black buttoned-down shirt up to his chest in scrutiny.

"You need more stuff in this decade, baby," you tell him. You just think he's taking issue with you picking things out for him.

He doesn't often like to relinquish control, but he's tacitly agreed that you just have a better sense of what's fashionable now. He doesn't mind standing out, but he doesn't want to look out of place either.

And as much as he'd never admit it, he wants to look good.

So you and Ben have been at the mall browsing for the past hour. Express for Men has some interesting finds; you already have a large pile of shirts, jackets, pants, and jeans set aside for him to try on.

Ben has strong opinions, especially on pants. He blatantly refuses skinny jeans, for which you begrudgingly concede. You have to pick your battles with your boyfriend, and this one's not the hill to die on, you think.

So you put down the tight pants in favor of some tasteful dark wash jeans. He eyes this pair also with wariness. "Why the fuck do they have holes in 'em?" he asks.

You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. "They're ripped jeans."

"On purpose?" he asks.

Oh lord. "Yes, Ben. They're distressed."

"Christ on a cross, so am I. This is what goes for fashion nowadays?"

God, give me fucking strength, you think. But you still smile. "You're gonna look good, I promise you."

So Ben gathers the pile you've created for him, and with a deep sigh, he heads over to the dressing room. There are two saleswomen stationed there. One visibly breathes in at the sight of him as she subtly taps the other one on the hip. Both greet him with bright eyes and smiles. "Hi there! Need a room?" the first one asks.

"Yeah," Ben nods, and she dutifully lets him into the biggest one. It has a cushioned bench and plenty of hooks on the wall for hanging the shirts and pants.

"Need any help laying these out?" she asks. He shakes his head. "No. I'm good, sweetheart."

She giggles a bit, like he's said something funny. "Okay! Well just let me know if you need any help. Like a different size, different color, if you need a belt, or anything like that."

Ben spots her blush and can't help but smile at her indulgently. "Sure." He has no intention of taking her up on her "help," but he knows the effect he has on women. Once she leaves, he closes the dressing room door and starts trying things on.

He's surprised to find he actually likes a lot of what you picked out for him. But then his superior hearing picks up what the women out front are whispering to each other in excitement.

"Oh my God, it's a criminal offense to have that jawline," says the one who helped him. "And that beard? Cut to perfection."

Ben smirks, both in amusement and with a well of pride welling in his chest. Still got it, fuckers.

The other scoffs. "Honey, I'd climb that man like a goddamn tree."

They snicker together, trying and failing to be quiet. "He looks so familiar though, I swear to God."

"Psh. Maybe in your dreams," one teases. The other hums. "Well, he'll definitely be making an appearance tonight...maybe when I'm still awake." Ben raises a brow at that.

"Hmm, looks like he's got a girlfriend though. She picked out all that stuff for him."

He then perks up a bit at the mention of you.

"Ehh, come on. She's gotta be a sister or something. Look at her."

"Aww, don't do that. She's cute."

"Cute doesn't bag a man like that." The other one chortles in response.

Ben frowns. He knew women were petty, but this takes the fucking cake. You're a New York "10," even in your old sweatpants and a bare face.

"What-fucking-ever, bitch. I'm gonna slip him my number. See if he needs any further assistance." Cue more obnoxious giggling.

The other one chimes in. "Ooh, you're bad. But I'm here for it. Get your man, girl."

"Excuse me." Oh, shit. Ben's brows raise of their own accord. That was your voice.

"Yes," one of the saleswomen greets you more professionally.

"I just want to check on how my boyfriend's doing. He's in that room, right?" you ask. Ben hears your tone though. It's clipped, direct, and intentional. He knows then: you definitely heard those twittering broads.

"Yes, right back there," one of the women directs you.

"Thank you," you reply flatly.

Ben smirks as he hears your brusque steps approaching. He checks himself out in the mirror real quick (the white shirt and black pants are simple, but they go well with the black jacket, he thinks). Then he unlocks the door and opens it, right as you were about to knock.

You blink up at him with surprise, and the remnants of a frown.

He leans against the doorframe, looking down at you with a charming smile. "Hey there, beautiful."

Your lips start to form a smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "Hey." You take in his current outfit with interest and approval. "Ooh, I like this. You look good...how do you feel in it?"

"Good," Ben says, but his eyes are focused on you. "Come 'ere."

He takes you by surprise when his hand guides you inside the dressing room by the waist. He locks it behind you. You look up at him in askance. He grasps your chin and tilts your face up to him.

"What's the matter?" he asks knowingly.

You raise a brow at him, shaking your head. "Nothing. Come on, did you try on this other stuff?"

Ben keeps a stubborn grip on your chin, so you can't turn away from him. "Don't tell me you're letting those maneating bimbos get to you."

Your eyes go wide and you raise a finger to your lips, reminding him to keep it quiet, but he doesn't give two fucks about that. He sits down on the soft bench and pulls you down with him. You sit across his lap and give him a rueful smile, stroking his cheek.

"I'll let you in on a little secret though," Ben says. Your expression crosses between amusement and intrigue. He leans in close your ear. "Jealousy looks fucking hot on you."

You guffaw in response, playfully smacking his arm.

"Hey, easy on the jacket," he smirks, but he claims you with a kiss. His fingers go to the button on your jeans, undoing it and slowly, torturously, guiding down the zipper. You suck in a breath.

"Ben, we can't," you say. But you're already moaning softly in his ear when his thick fingers begin to rub your pussy through your underwear. You blush at the naughtiness of this, even though the thought just turns you on even more.

He soon moves your panties aside to find your wet, soft heat.

You grip his hair tight, trying to bite your lip against a gasp as his fingers enter you, and begin to pulse inside. Your lower belly coils with heat, especially when his thumb finds your clit.

"We're paying customers," he says, with a deepening smirk. "We can do whatever we damn well please."

At the moment, you find it hard to argue with his logic.

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phantomrose96 · 1 year

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I think one of my least favorite Reddit personalities is what I'm gonna call Destitution Superiority.

It's a pretty disturbingly popular mindset I encounter frequently on Reddit. The kind of people who are like "Yeah I always save 75% of my income and I do this by never buying any single thing I do not need" "I've cut out 100% of processed sugar from my entire diet and it's great for my body" "I spend (absurdly long) time at the gym and eat (absurdly few) calories every day which I weigh and count it's really turned my life around."

And the thing is like, I believe them when they say doing this makes them feel good! I believe this satisfies a primal need for accomplishing a difficult task, for being proud of their efforts, for feeling superior to people who are simply too "lazy"/"impulse-driven"/"ignorant" to do the same.

...But by god. What's the end game? Do these people want to hit 80 years old and look back on their entire life pride which was just... self-deprivation? Do they want to look back and think "thank god I never once tried a delicious piece of cake" "thank god I missed my friend's birthday party so I could hit my gym goals" "thank god I'm dying with millions in the bank which I never let myself use or enjoy in life"

They're defining themselves by what they refuse to let themselves have. They're seeking accomplishment in being less, and doing less, and consuming and spending less so they can soak in the ephemeral brain chemicals that say "you did good by denying yourself this experience." And what happens when they crack? When day 487 of no desserts they feel weak and have a cupcake and hate themselves? And they go back to their hivemind which tells them they were simply weak and need to get back on the horse. It's sad. It's sad to watch.

And it is so very dangerous for how easily people will get sucked in. How extremely easy it is to blur the lines between "healthy, responsible behavior" and "cultish adherence to denying yourself pieces of your own life." They don't recognize that line themselves. Because if you try to bring this up with them, they deflect as if you were suggesting they plunge themselves deep into the opposite obsession. "Oh you think I should just spend every single dime I earn and end up in debt and broke?" "What are you suggesting I just let my health go because it's easier to sit on the couch every day."

No. I just think the narrative around "responsible" behaviors of finance and health needs to address the far-too-pervasive phenomenon of people overdoing it with cultish adherence, and locking themselves out of life, experiences, and joy, because the chemical rush of choke-hold control on their life--(or worse, the fear of slipping and being seen as one of the irresponsible others)--blinds them to the fact that they earnestly want to shrink the one and only life they have to live.

#chrissy speaks

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genericpuff · 2 months

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I wonder why christian misrepresentation are rarely talked about if compared to other religion misrepresentation. Like, I've seen people really vocal about Greek myths misrepresentation in LO and such (and it's valid because it's a culture and religion) but I rarely saw the same thing with christian even though there are many media who use christian religion innacurately, to the point where it comes off as using it as an aesthetic and not a proper religion.

Is it because of rampant religious trauma especially in western world? No ulterior motives on this question. I'm not a christian and yet I'm curious about this. I apologize if this sounds harsh.

I obviously don't have The Answer(tm) to this but personally speaking (and I'm about to get VERY personal here so take this with MOUNTAINS OF SALT), I think it's just the obvious - Christian mythology is one of the most well-documented and strongly protected out of virtually any other religion on the planet. Especially here in the West, it's commonplace for kids to go to Sunday school, for couples to have Christian weddings even if they're not practising Christians themselves, even the American anthem references the Christian God. It's simply not as easy to 'misrepresent' it because the representation is written into our very fabric of society. Even Greece itself is primarily made up of Orthodox Christians.

So anyone that does 'misrepresent' it are either completely mislead hardcore Christians, or people who are doing it intentionally, such as with the intent to make a parody of it or to deconstruct it through a different context or whatever have you. And of course, people will still get mad at those things, if you're implying that people aren't vocal about Christian misrepresentation then frankly IDK what to tell you there LOL If you want a contextual example in the realm of webtoons, Religiously Gay was dragged to hell and back during its launch for having a very crude and insulting depiction of St. Michael, and frankly, yeah I don't disagree because what the fuck is this-

(like at best it's just terrible character design lmao that said, there's also plenty else to criticize Religiously Gay for, including its fetishy representation of gay relationships and the fact that it's still just the "naive person who looks and acts like a child hooks up with mean person in a position of power" trope, blech, but the character design is definitely the first thing you notice)

There are even plenty of hardcore Christians who will deadass claim "misrepresentation" over things that ARE factually correct but they just haven't read the actual Bible and simply cherry pick what works for their own agenda. And of course those people are routinely called out by people like myself who know for a fact that Jesus wouldn't have promoted the war crimes that many modern day Christians are committing and justifying today. So it really depends on the definition of "misrepresentation" here.

The issue specifically with LO and Rachel that I personally call her out for (and many others) is that she's called herself a "folklorist" and claimed she's so much more knowledgeable on Greek myth than anyone else, while making a complete mockery of the original mythologies while not being honest about her intent as to whether LO is actually supposed to be a legitimate retelling OR a parody (because it sure acts like the latter more than the former, but she still seems to expect us to take it seriously and consider her knowledge of Greek myth superior?) Which leads to a lot of her teenage audience claiming shit like "Persephone went down to the underworld willingly" and "Apollo did assault Persephone in the original myths actually" and the classic "why would Lore Olympus lie or make up fake myths?"

You just can't pull off this extent of erasure with Christian mythology because we have a whole ass book of it that's been preserved, sold on shelves, and systematically integrated into society for thousands of years. Of course, there are people who will still try their damned best to twist the Bible to match their own bigotry with the whole "Jesus hates gays" bullshit (he would never), but it's met with equal amounts of 'misrepresentation' that are actually fully well-read and are intentionally subverting and changing things to either critique, parody, or restore the original intent of a lot of stories in the Bible without all the manufactured right-wing crap.

Greek myth, on the other hand, has some stories that are well preserved, and others, not so much. And in the modern day outside of the poems and hymns, you'll also rarely, if ever, see anyone use stories from Greek myth to ostracize, torture, and murder other people. "Misrepresenting Christianity" is more often done by actual Christians who are using the Bible to commit hate crimes than the people who have actually read the Bible and are just taking creative liberties with it for the sake of deconstructing / parodying / analyzing / subverting it. Veggie Tales "misrepresents" Christian stories because obviously Moses wasn't a fucking cucumber lmao but it still accomplishes its goal by retelling Christian stories in a way that's fun and educational for children.

By comparison (on the whole, I'm not comparing LO to Veggie Tales LMAO) LO just isn't clear in its intentions beyond Rachel's initial statements that she was trying to "deconstruct" the myths, while labelling herself as a folklorist. Therefore, I'm going to criticize how she does it because the way she's done it up until now has been very mishandled and has resulted in a lot of misinterpretations of the myths simply for the sake of fandom. And yes, these people exist in Christian media as well - they're called TV evangelists.

And that's my (very heavy) two cents.

#here's your reminder that missionaries are colonizers #find me the Hellenistic pagans knocking on people's doors asking them if they want to hear about the glory of Aphrodite lmao #honestly it also depends on what you're surrounding yourself with #obv if you take part in the LO fandom and avoid what's going on in the christian world then what you experience and see will seem skewed #like even i could be very wrong in my opinion based on my own experiences as someone who lives in the west-#maybe there ARE pagans knocking on doors and using greek myth to commit hate crimes #so yeah we all gotta try not to fall for survorship bias #there are plenty of stories of people getting mad about christian mythology and its misrepresentations on BOTH sides #lo critical #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #webtoon critical #ama #ask me anything #anon ama #anon ask me anything

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kaizokuou-ni-naru · 3 months

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I love that gear five lets Luffy embody the concepts of freedom, sunshine, joy, etc. But the main thing that has always rubbed me the wrong way about it is that it makes Luffy a god. I feel that Luffy has been positioned as fighting gods and what they represent the entire series (enel, the celestial dragons and doflamingo), and so it feels wrong thematically for him to be one.

You’ve had such wonderful answers to other people’s comments, and so I was wondering what your thoughts were on this. I understand if you’re tired of answering questions about it though!

so, i think there are two different definitions of the concept of 'god' at work here!

with the celestial dragons and enel, for example, they call themselves gods as a way of claiming innate superiority and control over people they view as lesser, 'mere' humans. these villains claim the title of 'god' as a tool of tyranny and domination, but they aren't gods. and that's important! doflamingo, enel, and the celestial dragons are all just bad people who position themselves as gods because it allows them to justify abusing and demeaning those less powerful than them. several villains throughout the series who don't explicitly consider themselves gods also maintain this attitude of superiority- kaidou, for example, judging by his words to yamato about the inferiority of humans.

when it comes to nika, from what we've seen so far, it's very different. in nika's case, i think we can best understand the title of god in the sense that he is the pure embodiment of freedom. he's not a god in the sense that he's someone who sits above the rest of the world and throws lightning down on it- he's a god in the sense that he's a force of nature. and because of that, he falls into natural conflict with anyone who does try to claim such a station of superiority and abusive control. to me, this is actually very consistent with luffy's track record of toppling so-called gods.

#does this make sense? i promise it makes sense in my head #jonny answers #not japanese #one piece #opmeta #character meta #luffy #gear 5 #sun god nika

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slexenskee · 2 months

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Detour (MDNSY Oneshot)

For an ask about the reactions of the JJK cast on MDNSY Gojo's... everything 😂

Scrubstan22 finds himself in the (un)enviable position of explaining Ru-kun to the JJK cast

(Link here: or read below)

Nanabi Shun, better known by his online handle ‘Scrubstan22’ is having his most surreal day yet. An unhinged mad scientist turned villain with a space-time quirk and an obsession with Ru-kun that borders on the same level as even the most delusional of Scrubs, has accidentally flung him, an innocent bystander, into an alternate dimension.

This would be terrifying, if it wasn’t apparently some kind of alternate dimension where Ru-kun’s anime is real.

And not only is it real… it’s apparently Ru-kun’s true origin story??

To be fair, it’s still terrifying, but Scrubstan22 has more pressing matters to focus on than his own mortality and possible impending doom.

Gojo Satoru apparently exists in this world— but Ru-kun does not.

It’s utterly absurd! It’s unreasonable and unfair! Maybe those songs really do already exist in this world— as the very unamused talking Panda keeps trying to tell him— but if No Scrubs and Ru-kun aren’t performing it, then they don’t actually exist at all! Nanabi couldn’t possibly put into words how life-changing it was to see Ru-kun perform in person. The fact that he doesn’t exist in this world— or at least not as the shit-posting global celebrity rockstar that Nanabi knows him as— is really quite sad. These poor kids don’t know what they’re missing out on. As a major Scrub and Ru-kun simp, Nanabi just can’t let this slide. He has to rectify it immediately.

Luckily he has a perfect solution.

His entire downloaded archive of all things No Scrubs and Ru-kun.

Some of Gojo Satoru’s students are more impressed than others.

“I hate that he looks so good in that skirt,” comes from the glasses-wearing girl. Maki, he thinks is her name. He only watched through the anime once so he’s pretty bad with the names of all the side characters.

“I should have known he’d make an excellent Sailor Moon after he stole my uniform.” Kugisaki Nobara complains, looking exactly as her character does in the anime.

Neither of them are enthused to see Ru-kun in his crossdressing glory, but Nanabi notices they’re unwillingly enthralled nonetheless.

Itadori Yuuji himself— the main character of Cursed Fight Season One— is unsurprisingly the most enthusiastic about it all. He nearly climbs over Nanabi for a better look at the recording on his phone, eyes alight.

“Sensei is so cool as a rockstar! It really suits him well!” Itadori exclaims, delighted. “And he’s singing ‘My Chemical Romance’? Sensei has such good taste!”

“He’s just an emo-punk loser who clearly had way too much time on his hands,” Fushiguro Megumi protests, although despite his inflammatory remarks he too doesn’t look away from the screen.

Apparently quite a few No Scrubs’ songs are from this band ‘My Chemical Romance’. Yuuji even shows him the music video of the same song from the actual band just to prove it, although that was wholly unnecessary. Nanabi believes him when he says all these songs already exist in this world and belong to other bands— he just doesn’t care. If anything, seeing the other bands perform it just confirms what he already believed; Ru-kun does it better.

Nanabi is happy to show them all the fan recordings he has of No Scrubs, gushing over the various outfit choices and the songs themselves. It’s actually kind of nice that these songs exist already, because that means these kids already know them and he can argue about which are superior without having to explain. Itadori’s favorite is ‘A Loaded God Complex’, called ‘Sugar We’re Goin’ Down’ in this world (although Itadori admits the changed title suits Ru-kun far more), Fushiguro’s is ‘Island in the Sun’, and Panda translates that Inumaki’s is ‘Thanks for the Memories’, but Panda himself confesses he’s unfamiliar with this genre of music. The two girls decry all their picks as boring, and don’t seem particularly impressed by any of Ru-kun’s songs until—

“Paramore!!” The two girls screech in unison, suddenly looking a lot more invested than they had earlier.

Nanabi has up a recording from the Scrubs Unite tour, which Ru-kun had done entirely in drag. They’d finally gotten to the encore, where Ru-kun had tried to weasel his female bandmates into singing the encore song, insisting it was made for a female vocalist. They summarily denied him, so he ended up singing the song himself, called Misery Business. It’s one of Nanbi’s favorite performances, and one Ru-kun hasn’t done since.

Even Maki and Kugisaki are begrudgingly impressed.

“He sounds like a male Hayley Williams— that’s so fucking unfair,” Kugisaki denounces, despairing. “Why does that bastard have to be good at everything, seriously.”

“The outfit is pretty spot on too, if he just dyed his hair, it’d be a great cosplay.” Maki agrees, sourly.

“Does he play anything else from Riot?” Kugsaki rounds on him. “What about That’s What You Get?”

Nanabi looks up at her helplessly. “Sorry, I don’t think so. But they apparently have a ton of unreleased stuff though, so maybe I just haven’t heard it.”

Apparently back when No Scrubs was truly an underground band playing random shows at dive bars, they had an insanely large setlist. Most of those songs never made it onto any of the official recordings. He’s heard rumors online that there’s a vinyl floating around, but aside from a single interview with All Might, has no real confirmation of its existence.

“I think it’s awesome that Sensei has an alternate personality as a rockstar,” Yuuji enthuses, looking rather fond and indulgent as he stares down at Ru-kun strutting across a stage. “I hope it’s more relaxing than being The Strongest all the time.”

Nanabi blinks at him. “Oh. He’s that too.”

The Jujutsu Tech students stare at him blankly. “... What?”

As it turns out, they’re all collectively more confused and bewildered by the whole Sixwings thing than they are the ‘world’s strongest’ thing. In this world, since the moment of his birth Gojo Satoru was always meant to be the strongest. That he can destroy armies in the blink of an eye and pull out purple-laser-death-beams-of-doom (apparently a technique called Hollow Purple in this world) and walk through explosions unscathed is just common knowledge among the Jujutsu World.

So all of his footage of Dabi’s many international exploits was met with a genial disinterest.

His media folder of Sixwings, however…

“He’s… really in a relationship?” Kugisaki looks utterly confounded. “A normal, healthy, longterm relationship?”

“He’s getting married?” Maki sounds bewildered.

“He has a kid?” Fushiguro sounds unimpressed.

Panda scratches his chin. “Huh. Hey, that’s good for him! He sounds like he’s actually a well-adjusted and normal guy.”

“Is his boyfriend a psychopath?” Kugisaki asks, urgently. “I really can’t see how else this would work out.”

“Not at all! Hawks is well-known as a very charming and friendly hero. He’s actually a really good guy.” Nanabi protests.

Kugisaki squints at him. “How the hell does he put up with him then?”

Nanabi smiles sheepishly. “Uh… he’s pretty easygoing I guess?”

Maki is leaning over him for a better look at his phone, using her fingers to zoom in on the photo he has up of Hawks and Ru-kun at the U.A. School Festival. He doesn’t swing that way, but even he has to admit they looked really good that day. And with Eri thrown in on top of it? It’s no wonder they’re regularly voted as the cutest couple in Japan.

“Damn. They actually look really good together.” Maki says, begrudging.

“Tuna, tuna.” Inumaki pokes Panda in the side.

Panda gives a solemn nod. “Inumaki-kun has a good point. What’s all this gossip about a Sixwings baby?”

“Oh, that’s Eri-chan.” Nanabi scrolls down to a better photo of her. There’s one from the Ru-kun signing event at Tower Records, where a sinfully good-looking Ru-kun is holding her on his hip and waving out to the crowds. “She’s the child he birthed from his own body.”

Fushiguro blinks rapidly. “He what now?”

“He’s fucking with you.” Kugisaki denies immediately.

Nanabi shrugs. “Maybe— but no one knows for sure! To be honest, none of his powers make much sense to us, so some people believe it and others don’t.”

Maki’s expression turns worried. “Well, they’re not all that clear to us either… I mean, there’s a lot you can do with cursed energy…”

She glances up at Panda. Panda just gives her a thumbs up. “That’s right! I mean, I exist, so who knows!”

“There’s a couple different rumors about it, but none are confirmed.” Nanabi fills them in with a gleeful expression. “The main one is that she really is the Sixwings baby, and they had her when they were teenagers and kept it a secret. There’s also a couple variations where Eri is his child, but the regular way, but he’s slept with a lot of people and none of them were women so people are pretty skeptical about it. Then there’s also the theory that he did birth her from his own body, but not with Hawks. There’s no real guesses on who her father is for that one.”

His companions look at him with varying degrees of incredulity. Nanabi spreads his hands. “The likely answer is he’s just messing with everyone and she’s adopted, but like I said, we really don’t know!”

Itadori doesn’t really seem to care about the truth either way, grabbing at his phone to scroll through the photos. “They’re so cute together! Haha, she really kind of even does look like sensei a little bit! She’s definitely just as stylish as he is!”

Itadori keeps scrolling until he gets to the infamous Swing incident, saved in all its glory in an endless gif format.

They all stare in silence as, on screen, Gojo Satoru gets KO’d by his kid on a swing set over and over again.

“Send me that.” Kugisaki demands.

Scrubstan22 gets rescued eventually. It’s a pretty boring affair, truth be told. He didn’t see any real curses, or any kind of fighting.

Gojo doesn’t return to campus until long after the sun has set, to the bizarre scene of all his students shoving their phones at poor Nanami, who looks as if he regretted ever coming in person to turn in his paperwork. They’re apparently trying to show Nanami photos of Gojo in drag, despite his vocal protests. The moment they lay eyes on him they pounce on him instead. None of their explanations make any sense. There’s something about him being a rockstar, and also married, and apparently a mother, and they have plenty of blurry photo evidence they try to shove at him. It looks like they all took photos of someone else’s screenshots, so the quality leaves much to be desired. Maybe if he squints really hard, that does kind of look like him in a mini skirt, but who’s to say really?

Unfortunately for the students, the space-time continuum rights itself overnight and they all lose their collective memory of Scrubstan22 and his alternate-universe. But the digital evidence remains, and occasionally Kugisaki will pull out her phone and watch a very random gif of Gojo-sensei getting smacked to the ground by a kid on a swing, and while she has no idea where it came from, she draws immense satisfaction from it anyway.

#mdnsy oneshots #fic may death never stop you

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alessabriel · 2 months

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circles in heaven and circles in hell

Cw. Past Lucifer Morningstar x ReaderFem!, blood, inaccurate representations of heaven and hell from Hazbin Hotel, typical canon violence, Alastor is aroace (but he won't totally fit everyone's representation of him) but he is married, Alastor is if it's a warning, ReaderFem Angel superior and a fallen angel after she became sovereign, use of "Lettore" which is Reader (only in Italian because it looks cute)

🪽You were an angel created in the image and likeness of the first woman Lillth but, the divine correction you heard among the elder seraphim, and although you were created in the image and likeness of the first woman you were not placed in the hands of man, of humanity but maintained close to God fulfilling a duty of caring for souls to reach heaven on earth directly, it was an exhausting duty but it made you close to humans, seeing them up close, they were strangely fascinating as well as terrifying. Their creations were magnificent, advances for their survival and then their comfort, they were interesting beings, you loved humans in their ambivalent existence and God loved you for it, you knew how to see the bad and the good, the bad was punished even if it hurt but you didn't. you opposed it. You obeyed and complied, until Lucifer entered your soul, you loved the creations he gave to humanity. You an improved creation of Lilith and the image and likeness of God: Lucifer were divine beings seen as the joy of heaven and the meaning that order and peace went hand in hand, they became friends, confidants and although sometimes they did not You understood, you came to love him, managing to see the good that he brought, but you saw how everyone turned their backs on him, throwing him into hell, which he himself created, calling him a troublemaker. And you loved him to the point of falling with him, of taking off that blindfold that covered your eyes with a soft comfort for you given by the hands of God, of staying by his side when he was sinking.

🪽You had never doubted God's efforts and order, but when you saw that, when you saw the enormous punishment given to Lucifer, doubts began to assail you. Did God love everyone as he said? You began to notice that his love was governed by usefulness, by prompt action, and it was frankly painful because you lived for years comfortably in that scheme, being useful and therefore being loved.

🪽Then you made the worst mistake in the eyes of all of heaven, making Lucifer's gift prosper in humanity and in the souls to come, who would decide and have the freedom to believe or not believe, for which you were thrown into hell by the same hands of who was your father, who created you as the correction of all the evil that resulted in Lilith.

🪽They never called you a mistake, but you thought you saw a slight pain in the eyes of the one who believed you, but you accepted the pain, and the punishment that it all meant, because even if they gave you the opportunity to recognize your mistakes and repent, you would not find anything in yourself to repent For this reason, from among the clouds of heaven you descended, falling into hell, which to your surprise was nothing more than seven rings of sins resulting from the creations of Lucifer, which among all things was the result of each human being being able to make their decisions and not. They dressed so badly, yes they made mistakes and so on, but inside everything they decided themselves knowing the result and lived comfortable lives according to their decisions.

🪽If no one called you a mistake it would be because you would make the worst mistake; feeling love towards Lucifer when his sad heart belonged to another, you believed you could heal and heal the wounds left by Lilith, caring for her and loving him, understanding him, helping him with the hell in chaos that Lilith left behind with a little girl who cried at the carelessness of his two parents.

🪽Everything was a mistake except taking care of Charlie Morningstar, a little sun created in hell and who was charming, her smiles were the right balm on the wounds you never allowed to heal. Charlie was the only success.

🪽The second worst mistake was believing that Lucifer loved you on those nights where he professed his love in desperate prayers, seeking comfort in need. And perhaps whoever believed you was right, love dictated in desperation may contain truth but where is the line drawn between truth and what is said to obtain relief?

🪽Were you stupid? In fact, were you close to falling into that self-destructive pit with him? Unfortunately yes, but you managed to leave with bleeding fingers and the dull pain in your chest caused by the cruel rejection of Lucifer encouraged by Lillth in his moment of glorious return, which you accepted with pain. It was a scar that no longer itched, a mark forgotten long ago when the physical pain was completely overshadowed by the person you believed loved you, because he swore so and whispered it in your ear at night. But, as soon as she returned from the past to continue what she left behind as if it were a book left in the middle, you understood better. Unfortunately you understood it perfectly; you were just a distraction, a mere game until she will return, until Lilith will get tired of being in heaven and will go down back to hell recovering everything she left behind; her husband Lucifer and daughter Charlie (you didn't know it but she was happy to see Lillth but that place as a mother was occupied by the one who accompanied her every night of nightmares, who wiped her tears and motivated her to never give up until she had tried, to be who he was and was you).

🪽And although hell was seen almost as a seedy slum full of sinners and demons seeking to destroy, it was only more than a human city with chaos and no rules due to how Lucifer allowed himself to sink and leaving his kingdom only to have a few years of order (because you took care of it in its worst moments to allow it to heal and it never did) but if hell had taught you anything with its unpredictable changes in climate, crime, strange sinners everywhere and only small extraordinary events happening, was that, resilience was your motto. It was when you fought for Lucifer, when you raised your voice in his name, when you wanted to take his pain and make it yours, when you helped him raise a daughter that he himself neglected, and when he left you after years because Lilith had come from return to his life, as if it had not meant eternal days of suffering that you witnessed and it was painfully ironic, that all of Lucifer's depression was fixed with the return of Lilith. Lilith was his solution to everything.

🪽In retrospect, you were used to suffering so much in heaven in a pleasant and comfortable ignorance since if you were useful and fulfilled you would be eternally loved by the one who created you as in hell where you finally knew the pain of humiliation and a broken heart combined , until you yourself got up from the puddle of tears you had created. Was it difficult? Did it hurt too much? Significantly a lot. Was there resentment in your heart? Since you had to tear off your own wings. The sky was a wound that bled with raw slowness until the last drop was squeezed out and left you with no blood or tears to shed. Hell a scar that regenerated before each extermination, rising as if nothing had happened. Resilience was definitely your motto and you carried it in your soul.

🪽After the time you allowed yourself to suffer and wallow in your self-pity, you managed to see that hell was not all bad as you taught Charlie in the past when she was a child. It had its pros and cons, with that new perspective you forged a reputation and power in hell, consolidating yourself as another sovereign, since, as expected, they were the ones who managed the ring of pride in its entirety in the face of Lucifer's inactivity (now you risk ) and, to your surprise, everyone wanted to rub shoulders with you, your power and past a secret well hidden behind your calm and imperturbable expression, as well as the sinners that were accumulating in your long list of contracts, benefits for both parties, you took care of their interests by getting what you wanted from them, obtain their loyalties without pain. And then, in the newly acquired comfort it happened, it was as if a ray of light other than hell fell on that other sovereign who approached you, you could notice at that time an unprecedented desperation in his body and well hidden behind his eternal smile that I wasn't fooling you at all. You met him; Alastor, the Radio Demon.

|| For Lettore it was common to receive a few sinners a day, he had managed to get into good hands a sector of hell almost at the end of the circle of hell that was neglected and characterized by guerrillas who ceased when their power cleared them of burdens but overwhelmed them with new chains with more slack, which the sinners were grateful for by being loyal and starting the foundations of what would be known as the Impure District, it was a masterful control and born from nothing before the eyes of all hell.

Everyone had crazy ideas.

None close to reality, all nonsense fueled by crazy theories and encouraged by the euphoria of interesting information. But no one but the bound sinners knew, even though they would rather tear out their tongues than speak. Secrets that ensured loyalties forged by the fire of mutual benefit.

Therefore, for Lettore, receiving sinners was common, allowing access from the top of the library of his home; a large house well hidden by a sinuous and sinister forest that extended in some parts of the district as if it were a garden, a deceptive forest. In the brief moment when the last book was slid into place, Lettore felt that he was not a common sinner but a sovereign and therefore he paid attention to it with curiosity.

"To what do I owe your presence in my home this day?" The woman questions, her voice soft and silky, calm.

Alastor, who had come without knowing where else to turn and with the dilemma still fresh in his hands, decided to show a lack of faith (however ironic it was and it was a joke that he would genuinely laugh at) by going to the sovereign who emerged from among the shadows like a dream, a nightmare that was calm but left terror installed.

"I have heard rumors throughout hell since their appearance," the radio demon explained briefly with his characteristic voice covered by the effect of subtle static. "I have wanted to have the pleasure of knowing if they are true or not."

Lettore only looked at him for a few seconds before inviting him to have a cup of tea, with the comfort between them, just a fixed gaze on Alastor was enough, noticing the tension in his being, like ropes from a guillotine about to fall. She suppressed a smile as she was able to get an idea, no sovereign was free from dangers, quite the contrary and she knew that well, it was not for nothing that Alastor had become sovereign by devouring and destroying all the original sovereigns.

"...there are many rumors, I would appreciate it being clearer," the woman commented in a harmonious voice.

And perhaps Alastor was precarious (among so many sins) to be direct, he felt the shackle tied and tight around his neck just before cutting his neck, which was causing him anger, desperation that he could barely keep within his being, he wanted to tear and to be able to swallow such a harpy who had tied him up, challenged him and left him on the verge of losing what he had earned through years of instilling terror and fear, so he would have to let that truth out no matter how much he didn't want to.

"...I've heard from some sinners that you managed to get them out of contracts," the deer demon said bluntly.

The woman only handled herself carefully, without much importance in the face of such loud recognition and above all, she did not react. Lettore knew very well that a secret that was never believed was a well-kept secret, truths denied and rejected were someone else's advantage.

"...Why would you look for someone capable of breaking contracts?" The female questioned with a bewitching voice, almost seductive, just dazzling the ears.

"Because someone managed to tie me up as collateral," the radio demon blurted out, noticing that sweet voice full of secrets behind that condescending edge. "Why not be honest?"

The woman only limited herself to leaving her cup on the delicate and elegant black porcelain plate, on the low table of a pleasant room filled with a sweet aroma.

"...if I undo the deal, you will now be tied to me, equivalence" he explained in an assertive voice and without hesitation "I need to know what was in the contract, so I can break it and forge a deal with me, but my deals are eternal until let me decide"

For the radio demon it was as if an enormous weight was lifted from his shoulders, the mere idea of being able to remove that contract from his soul with that similar harpy who had only ambushed him, forcing him into a deal that he never sought or asked for. . Alastor sighed, recovering his eternal smile as if he had control of the entire situation, things that, although not so true, were in part.

"It's a long story dear"

"...hell is eternal and its nights seem endless" ||

🪽It only took one night to know his biggest secret, he was tied to Lilith out of obligation, he had never accepted and was manipulated beyond his understanding, and you could taste his frustration in the air, but, his contract came to an end because of you. hand and that contract was transferred to your long list, only fulfilling part of what was stipulated in the past; Make sure you keep a close eye on the Hazbin Hotel.

🪽From that night Alastor became close to you, both of you found a quiet place in each other's company; Alastor, with his voice always covered in subtle static, became the everyday hum in your ears and without knowing your voice, always soft, became what Alastor always wanted to hear.

🪽With time together and creating a daily life, it was as if you found something that you had been missing for a while. You knew his life and he knew yours, you lost count of how many nights you spent enchanted by everything he experienced as a human, how many outings to have a drink together and mornings waking up under the same roof. Broadcasts on the air dedicated to you, even if no one else knew and only you knew that, a sweet secret that made you feel euphoric. Gifts and details found around the house, from a single red rose to sweets placed in areas where you would see them clearly. They created together a domestic comfort that surpassed any sensation and feeling, it was as if you had found your soulmate, which complemented you. Alastor always took you out of your comfort zone, made you try things you would never have thought of and live, you felt like you were living next to him. It was a completely new feeling.

📻 For Alastor, it was an invigorating and novel sensation that did not leave his being complete, each transmission he broadcast with Lettore in mind he enjoyed much more almost with the same feeling of purpose and fascination as when he was human, in each night spent in his home or that of her new companion telling her all her experiences as a human, seeing how her eyes shone in a singular way like a moon in the sky overshadowing any star around her, meals shared together even with her peculiar tastes (deer or human meat) she just smiled in an exasperated but amused way with that soft pout that she never noticed he made and he felt a strange sensation of fullness, filling him even with society. It was a sensation and feeling of being complete, of having found his complement and those strange nights that he invited her to his cabin where only once he transmitted with her there and managed to hear her sweet song, a song worthy of a seraph like her since she knew her entire history, her past and present, the pain she carried in her chest that she let go of to start living, she knew of her love for Charlie even when Lucifer made her suffer and feel like a used toy. Frankly, she was surprised when she felt a forceful and overwhelming anger take him into the jaws of a beast, because of that pain in her, but what prevailed in her being was to give her words of encouragement: "You are not to blame for anything, there are people who will not value a good heart in this hell" and a hug that took him by complete surprise because he started it because he hated being touched but the moment he felt her hands on his back, clinging to him, it was like a warmth that, far from being overwhelming It was like a breath of fresh air.

📻 Alastor was tied to Lettore but being tied to her didn't cause him major weakness or anything, just a light protection and the feeling that (even if it was twisted) he was always a humming distance away (because he's already heard her crystalline laugh and which bells when he made him appear at his home out of nowhere and it made him laugh just remembering it) so taking care of Charlie in his hotel was like a thank you to Lettore, and he always carried that gold watch in his pocket, a gift that meant like a small world; As a human, he had never found that watch no matter how much he searched and Lettore gave it to him, it was the first gift that almost moved him to the point of removing the moisture from his eyes, but he did not shed any tears (although honestly he was close to nothing).

🪽Alastor's presence in your life was everyday and you came to feel a silence foreign to hell. And the memory of Alastor's reddish doe ears when you gave him the gift that it took you a while to obtain would never be forgotten.

📻 Alastor had racked his brain thinking about a suitable gift to match the one Lettore gave him but, it was in front of him the entire time he was at the Hazbin Hotel so, one day when Charlie would have guests he would also bring someone (he didn't say who) who would support the idea of the hotel. So bringing Lettore to the Hotel, on his arm the moment they set foot inside Charlie ran towards his companion and it was a sweet feeling. Which became even more exquisite seeing the veiled anger in Lillth and Lucifer's gaze.

|| Lettore couldn't help but wrap his arms around Charlie, feeling how he squeezed you tightly and with the feeling on the surface, you kissed his forehead.

"Charlie," Lettore said in a harmonious and soft voice, seeing Charlie's crystallized gaze, "I'm proud of you."

For Charlie, hearing those words coming from the lips of the one who took care of her little girl, of the one who remembered her tears cleanly and accompanied her in every important moment until he left her with a painful but bittersweet farewell with a promise to always take care of her and to be together again. . He couldn't help but hug her tightly.

"Mom," Charlie stammered, still clinging to Lettore, feeling like she was treasured in the arms of someone who would never doubt loved her. "Thank you for coming to the hotel. I want to show you everything!"

Charlie excitedly took Lettore by the hand, talking non-stop about her project with Alastor accompanying them from behind, passing by Lillth and Lucifer, not intentional. ||

📻 🪽

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