#they’re impossibly soft and it’s what they deserve

[mikareo]

“ ࣭⸰ ★ THE MOON SAYS HELLO. . . ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀呪術廻船; geto suguru x fem reader ⠀ ꒰ . . part one of three ꒱ . . . word count; 3.6k

⊹ ⠀⠀despite his insistence on never falling in love, suguru fails to stop himself from becoming smitten with his best friend’s beloved. you’ve become a flicker of hope in his darkness— though you’re someone who can never and will never be his to have and to hold.

series contains; if gojo didn’t kill geto n geto was given a chance to redeem himself, redemption arc!geto, human caretaker!reader, kind of e2l but also not really, love triangle, gojo x reader, fluff, major angst, heartbreak, wedding at the end, swearing probably, geto refers to humans as monkeys per usual author's note; rewritten fic, will be 3 parts in total (i'm half done pls be patient w me im a slow writer...)

YEAR ONE, DAY ONE

His face is sore. So sore. It’s red, swollen, and sore after he’s spent the last three hours screaming in frustration with his current predicament. This is absurd, Satoru should’ve just killed him when he had the chance. Geto’s lost count of how many times his palms have slapped his own face; over and over again with wishes that he can wake up from this hellish nightmare the higher ups call ‘rehabilitation’— though he can somewhat still recall the first slap that he’d given himself around the half-hour mark. He’s got a pretty good memory…that doesn’t stop him from hoping his veins aren’t too noticeable as they angrily protrude from his forehead in crimson currents.

He’d rather be dead than imprisoned like this…like an animal…like one of those damn useless monkeys.

The intensity of his wails continue to bounce off of the barren walls— barren aside from the dark mark he’d punched in earlier— and echo like a party of lost ghouls in the bottom of an empty well. Geto feels like a mad man.

He’s only just begun his isolation and he’s already growing mad with boredom. 

A huff escapes his lips as he plops himself down onto the twin-sized bed that’s nestled in the corner of his so-called ‘suite’. With linen sheets and a dark maroon comforter, it’s almost a cozy living situation; in another life, Geto could imagine himself cuddling beneath the covers with his favorite book and a soft record playing in the background for some ambience. That world is far far away now. Even if he asked for a record player, he doubts the higher ups would grant him one. He’s their most valuable prisoner, and they’re sure to keep him as miserable as possible until he’s one-hundred-percent pure hearted once more. However, despite their reluctance to grant him the things he wants, these aren’t the worst living arrangements he’s ever encountered and he knows that Gojo did his best to give him the best commodities he could to…well…a highly dangerous criminal. 

This is the only path to forgiveness, he reminds himself, constantly trying to be optimistic about the utter absurdity of it all. 

Optimism hasn’t been his specialty in a long time; anyone with a working pair of eyes would be able to deduce that, and he despises it. He’s quite rusty with the characteristic and has looked on the darker side for a while now— but wishes that he could be as reckless as he once was as a teenager. He can vividly remember how loud his laughter was with Gojo and Shoko, laughing as they chased each other throughout the school yard and using each other's cursed energy to their advantage in games of tag— but that would be near impossible now. His two best friends can barely look him in the eyes after the treason he’s committed. Gojo views him as a ticking time bomb and Shoko’s healed too many people to count that he’s harmed.

If he stepped one foot out of this room, he believes he’d be smothered on sight.

The Jujutsu Society fears Geto Suguru..

…and Geto Suguru fears himself. 

In all fairness, he deserves everything that’s come to him. What he did was awful; mass murdering humans…trying to murder even more humans…harming innocent students…starting a war during the holiday season…the whole gist. There are obviously bad actions from the past that continue to haunt Geto to this day and will continue haunting him so long as he breathes— but that’s all it is now…the past. He wants redemption. He needs redemption. If Gojo managed to reach clarity within Geto’s awful decisions, then maybe he can too. 

Geto wants to get better, to be better…not only for Gojo…but for himself. 

This is exactly why he and his best friend has devised a plan, one that will hopefully help lead Geto on a better path— a five-year path that will only be completed if he truly wants it to, and a half a decade seems like quite a bit of time to most; but for Geto, he doesn’t know if it will be enough. 

For Satoru…do it for Satoru…

He wraps his arms around himself in an attempt to comfort his heart that beats with fear every second of every day. It’s been so long since he’s been hugged by another, and he doubts he’ll ever feel that love and comfort from someone in his life. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s been alone with his thoughts with no one else to turn to; and if he’s being honest, there’s nothing in the entire world that scares him more than his own mind. 

“Geto Suguru?”

He doesn’t recognize that voice.

The soft sound comes from seemingly nowhere, startling Geto with a slight jump. Whomever it is sounds frail and weak, obviously intimidated by whom they’re going to be in the presence of in mere minutes; and Geto already finds nothing but annoyance at his new companion. Of course they’re going to have prior judgment. He bets you already hate him for the rumors and stories. He doesn’t really have a choice whether or not you come in, though. Gojo insisted on a caretaker— someone to talk to so he doesn’t go insane by himself— and Geto will do anything to make his best friend happy. So, he stands up and dusts his pants off, making sure to look more presentable, and stalks towards the entryway. His hand meets the knob, yanking it open, and ready to meet the stranger on the other side. 

Standing before him is you, a woman around his age. You can’t possibly be older than twenty-six, but perhaps you’re a few years younger. In your hands are various sweets and snacks that Gojo knows Geto loves, balancing on a silver tray that shines more light in the room than he’d care for. The reflections dazzle straight into his eyes, blinding him briefly with a scowl on his face. Of course Gojo would know to send you in with his favorites. He’s so predictable. His best friend is less surprising than he thinks, causing Geto to roll his eyes to the top of his head; though he appreciates the kind gesture. It’s far past dinner, though. Gojo must’ve struggled to convince the others to allow him a proper meal. 

“Don’t just stand there, monkey.” Geto commands whilst gesturing to the small dining table in the center of his confined space. “Come inside.”

The instant you stepped into his presence, it was horribly noticeable that you have no cursed energy. Zero. Not a lick of it…and he struggles to hide the disgust with his body language. He can’t help but be annoyed that a monkey such as yourself is going to be in his company for the next five years. 

With his distaste for you clear as day, he pulls out a chair for himself and disregards the kind option of pulling out yours prior; expectantly looking towards you with the expectation that you’re going to serve him his meal like a servant. 

“Well, monkey…” he trails off disinterested, “I’m waiting.”

You hustle towards him, quickly and efficiently placing the special grade sorcerer’s meal on the placemat before him and taking the empty seat opposite. There’s a small breath you’re holding in, Geto can see it in your throat— it’s suffocating you with fear for your life as your fingers lightly tap the dark wood in a nervous fit. 

You’re completely pathetic. As if a monkey would ever have the courage to speak to him. This is ridiculous.

His hands slam against the table with a loud bang. “What are you doing?” he questions, heavily interrogating you as you cower in your seat like a meak mouse. “Does Satoru expect you to monitor my meals?”

He really is nothing but a prisoner, isn’t he?

“What damage could I possibly do with this slob that’s been served to me by the scum of the earth? Start a food fight in the halls? Overthrow the Jujutsu world with a biscuit?” (If that is the case, in your defense, the biscuits are quite hard. There must be a new kitchen hand in training who based them.) This is a horrible day.

As Geto impatiently awaits your answer, a deep breath escapes your lips— perhaps a way to soothe your heartbeat into something less than a record-breaking speed— and you attempt to focus your stress and fear into a fleeting moment of zen. Your large eyes shut for a total of three seconds; one, two, three…before opening again. This time, as his own eyes make contact with yours, they’re shining with slightly more confidence than before as you swallow hard and settle your gaze on Geto— the look in your eyes evolving from that of anxiety to empathy. 

“Actually,” your lips rise into a thin smile, “Gojo Satoru didn’t send me here, the higher ups did.”

Your eyes search Geto’s for any signs of discomfort or inner rage that could be boiling beneath the surface of his poker face. It appears that he’s grown even stronger at hiding his true emotions towards humans; however, you can see through the veil. Yes, it’s thick and difficult to brush past, but there’s a slight opening in the center that you peek inside— and what you can see in his heart is a man who simply wants to finally do what’s right. 

“The higher ups are aware that Gojo Satoru has a soft spot for you— hell, everyone who knows your name is aware that when it comes to you, he has no reason. He has no right of mind. I’m only here to monitor and report your progress in an honest manner. That’s it. That’s all. I promise I won’t intrude on your life more than necessary.” 

Shit.

“I’m sorry, Geto Suguru…but you’re stuck with me.”

It’s as if his left and right sides are arguing between themselves. His good conscience says that he should give you a chance, perhaps you could be different than the monstrous humans that attempted to kill his beloved Mimiko and Nanako; while his bad conscience tells him to let out one of his cursed spirits to devour you where you stand. Listening to his right side would definitely get him his best case scenario…a chance to see his girls again…but the left side would be so much more enjoyable. Oh well. At least the higher ups sent someone somewhat his age and not an ancient and decaying corpse like themselves. That’s a disgusting thought. He’d rather be hugged by a hundred humans than be forced to befriend a higher up. A shiver runs through Geto’s spine as a newfound appreciation for you is birthed within him.

“Do you have a name?” Geto taunts as he begins to pick at his meal, slightly disgusted with the stale quality of some of the snacks but nevertheless thankful that he at least has something to subside his aching hunger. “Or should I just call you ‘monkey’ as I do with the rest of your kind?”

That sound?

You’re laughing?

Your giggles are surprisingly pleasant to Geto’s ears as they harmonize into a song that he can imagine himself listening to each morning. Why did you find that funny? He was quite literally insulting your entire existence. Geto is dumbfounded by the strange humor you seem to have, considering that he was being entirely serious with his question. Humans are so strange. He’s never really been able to understand how your peoples’ minds work, but perhaps he could begin to learn the basics. It’s not like he has anything better to do, and some entertainment would be nice. 

He’ll keep you around…it wouldn’t hurt and you can be his companion kind of like a pet.

Pets are cute…

…your smile is cute too.

You smile once more, answering his question with a blush on your face. “Please,” your cheeks redden, “Call me by my name, Suguru.”

YEAR ONE, DAY NINETY-FOUR

“You’re late.” Geto crosses his arms over his chest, exhaling a large breath of air in a loud and annoyed huff as he attempts to seem seriously angered by his new friend’s awful timing. 

It’s nearly twenty minutes past the time that you were supposed to be here; emphasis on supposed. He’s been waiting with his eyes staring at the clock, watching it tick and tick as the time passed by with no you knocking on his door. That’s twenty whole minutes of time in which he was forced to entertain himself rather than listen to your rambles and rants about whatever the latest scandal is in the outside world. You love that pop culture gossip stuff that social media and magazines rave about, and in a weird way, you somewhat remind him of his daughters— personality-wise…not attraction wise…that would be weird. 

Over the past few months, Geto’s grown severely accustomed to the daily routine that you’ve developed, becoming so fond of you that he strangely pictures your smile and recalls your laughter when you aren’t even here. Friendship is a funny thing. He doesn’t think he’s ever had a friend like yourself; yes, Satoru will always be his closest confidant…but his relationship with you is different in a way that he can’t quite put his finger on. He’s never considered anyone else the highlight of his every day like he does you. Your company is the kind of presence that he overwhelmingly enjoys; with such a positive and warm nature exuding comfort to Geto’s loneliness, and your judgment-free outlook on life rivaling his pessimism in a perfect mixture of negativity and optimism. He wishes he’d met you sooner, perhaps when he was a child— and if he had, maybe he wouldn’t have turned out the way he did. 

It’s too bad you would’ve only been an awful human to him back then…he would’ve called you his infamous nickname without batting an eye…a monkey…

…a mere monkey whom he never ever thought he’d develop unwanted feelings for.

For his entire life, Geto always told himself not to fall in love. That love isn’t real. It isn’t obtainable, not when there are people like Satoru in the world— people that you can’t help but love— and then people like him; people who you can’t help but hate. With that being said, he’s never necessarily been looking forward to any potential love matches in his future.

…no matter who he was involved with…

…until he met you.

“Sorry about that, Suguru!” you hustle through the doorway, your appearance a tangled mess with dusty dirt particles littered with gravel. 

There’s a large scratch on your right cheek, not deep or in danger of infection in any way, but noticeable enough that he’s able to see it from a distance. Knowing you, it’s most likely accidentally self-inflicted in some sort of way; you being notorious for tripping or snagging your skin on the sharp end of a table. How do you always manage to be so uncoordinated? Geto can’t help but let out a short laugh, his eyes scrolling up and down your body and taking in your entire appearance, dirt and all. You even manage to make dirt look good. What the fuck? He hates this.

Your voice carries on as you approach him. “I was running on time, but then I saw this adorable shop downtown and I just had to make a stop.” The overexaggerated tone you hold is amusing as your hands wave through the air in a physical storytelling of your experience. The skin of your cheeks is flushed red from your sprint through the city, looking beautiful in resemblance to that of a blooming rose. 

Geto can feel his own face heating up at the sight of you, choosing to shrug nonchalantly in an attempt to seem as if he doesn’t care at all about your dilemma…

…as if he doesn’t care about every second of your everyday…

…as if your overall excitement isn’t the only thing that truly keeps him going nowadays. 

“You tell me these things as if what you do outside of this room matters to me.” He hopes his words mask his rising blush. (Spoiler alert: They don’t.)

Flawlessly, you brush off Geto’s phony disinterest without the slightest acknowledgement. It’s as if the phrase had never even left his lips, with no evidence and proof of insult. This isn’t an uncommon occurrence when the topic of what you do when you’re not with him comes up in conversation, as the prisoner typically tries to ignore his interest in your daily shenanigans— and you can’t deny that it hurts. Most of the time, it feels as if Geto never actually listens to anything you say, and you were able to quickly realize that in the early weeks of your arrangement when the pain began to torment your heart; ripping and shredding it to bits with every eye roll and mocking scoff. You don’t seem to matter in Geto’s point of view. He doesn’t care…at least that’s what you believe. 

In contrast to Geto, you’re an emotional spirit— you crave love.Love is all you’ve ever wanted, needed, and desired. In your time with him, you’ve developed inklings of feelings as well. However, you’ve chosen to let your feelings grow and blossom out of the dirtied patch of grass they were planted in— ignoring the warnings every single person in your life has given you in advance. Despite that, Geto continues to stomp on your budding flowers. He takes a heavy watering can, filled to the brim with hose water, and drowns your garden in the tears that you shed in the privacy of your bedroom. Those tears that are a never ending waterfall due to the fact that you know it isn’t your job to fall in love with your client. Your duty to Jujutsu Society is to help Geto learn to love humans and sorcerers as one in the same and to gain the trust of his community once more— not to love you.

“Okay, before you judge me, at least give me a chance to explain myself.” Stumbling towards Geto, you accidentally trip over your own feet in embarrassment, and proceed to hold out a single flower not yet in bloom. “It’s freshly cut. I saw a bouquet in the window and it caught my eye, because it reminded me of you; but I knew you’d hate a flashy bunch of them so I just bought the one.”

It reminded you of him?

Taking the gift into his own hands, Geto studies it intensely. The rose is a dark shade of red, crimson, or scarlet depending on your vocabulary. The petals are a brighter color while the plushness near the stem turns dark, more sinister as it approaches the thorns lining the sides. Just by looking at the rose, he can understand why it made you think of him. It’s gorgeous, but practically untouchable figuratively and literally. There’s only one angle that he can hold the stem at that doesn’t prick his fingers. Ouch. And he just did the very thing he was being so careful of avoiding.

All his life, he’s never been the kind of person who longed for gifts or compliments, but when coming from the right person…perhaps he is. 

Whilst he struggles to come up with a reply— a simple ‘thank you’ or ‘i appreciate this’— you mentally applaud yourself as you’ve finally found a way to make him speechless…

…but your praise for yourself is short-lived.

He can’t be weak. Not even for you.“I guess it’s not terrible.” Geto throws the flower to the ground and lightly kicks it away with his right foot. As one of the beautiful petals drifts away from the lonely flower, he turns away, not being able to endure the heartbroken look on your face and the offended rose on the floor. Why does he have to be like this? “I’m sure that garbage is all a monkey like you can afford anyways.” Why is he so cruel?

His eyes clench shut as he hears the door begin to close. You’re so gentle even when upset. He admires that about you— you’re the calm to his ever-raging storm, the sailor to his tsunami, and the lifeboat to his wreckage— you’re the most pure-hearted person he knows, and you don’t deserve this awful anger he holds within him. 

Is he…crying?

As tears begin to drip down his cheeks, Geto collapses against the wall with his knees buckling beneath him and his weight crumbling down to a pile of patheticness. He’s just a shell of a man undeserving of someone like you. Soft sobs escape his lips and silent cries fill the hollow room, absent of your joy, crying out until he notices the faint outline of the young rose beside him. With the flick of his hand, he snatches the flower off the ground and lifts the thorny plant with careful hands— finally and truly understanding your meaning behind the gift. This is how you see him? He’s dreadful and hurtful to others on the outside, prickling kind people away with his thorns…but when encouraged and supported, he has the potential to become something beautiful.

Someone that could one day be compared to the beauty that is of a blooming rose. 

With the budding rose in his grasp, Geto sits alone. He realizes that he’s only able to become that person with the help of you. You’re the only person that has even come close to seeing him for who he truly is; aside from Satoru you’re the only person who would think of giving such a gift to the number one enemy of the Jujutsu world. You’re the only person who he’s ever come to feel true and honest romantic love towards. 

Geto has to become better. Not only for himself and Satoru…but now, for you.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀thank you for reading! reblogs are greatly appreciated! ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀i promise i'll post the next 2 parts soon pls be patient :3

#geto x reader #geto angst #geto fluff #geto suguru x reader #geto x you #suguru geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto fanfiction #geto fanfic #geto ff #geto hc #geto hcs #geto oneshot #geto suguru fanfiction #geto suguru fanfic #geto suguru x you #suguru geto fanfiction #suguru geto fanfic #suguru geto ff #suguru geto angst #suguru geto fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #geto x y/n #jjk fanfiction #jjk fanfic #jjk ff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction

[princessbrunette]

kinktober : oct 13th

miguel o’hara x praise kink

miguel doesn’t just praise anyone.

anyone who works with him knows it’s a privilege that’s earned, and if you so much as get a ‘good job’ or a pat on the back from the man, you know you’ve done well.

before you, he didn’t care for positive reinforcement. he found it tedious, counterproductive and simply just not his style. that was until he’d notice your back straighten everytime he’d walk over to your screen and he’d nod, impressed with your work. the way your eyes would gleam with pride when he’d put a hand on your shoulder and tell you “hey, done lots of good work this week. go and rest.” after a long day where he was a little more calm, his voice quieter and less tense. the most notable of instances was when he was patching up a wound of yours that had gotten pretty bloody, and to ensure you didn’t start panicking he muttered out a breathless “eyes on me, good girl.” which even in your state, made your eyes glaze over and jaw go a little slack. miguel notices everything. hm, interesting — he thought.

he brushed it off for a while, sticking to his guns. he’s not going to praise you if you don’t deserve it, what’s the point? was he meant to just compliment you willy nilly because it made you happy? because it made that pretty smile come out like the sun rises over a grey cloud after it had been raining all day? he couldn’t. wasn’t his style, as mentioned.

but then you start dating, and he learns more about you, about how the boys you’d dated before were stingy with their compliments, how you had to beg just for them to call you pretty, and one thing about miguel — was that he had to be better. he had to be different.

he didn’t stray from his usual stoic self at work, especially around others — however when you were sat at your desk his ginormous, warm hand would creep up and massage the back of your neck as you stare ahead at your screen. “know its a lot of work, doing a good job for me today cariño.” he speaks quietly, only to you, in that low, husky warm tone that makes your eyes flutter shut.

it becomes addictive, watching the way you’d melt for him. the way you’d furrow your brows and push your thighs together sometimes leaving him hot and hard in his own suit, having to pace to distract himself. he wonders how you’d respond to it sexually, in your few intimate encounters he hadn’t been so vocal — more into getting his mouth on you to sate his intense oral fixation and leave marks that would leave other men with an answer on whether or not you were satisfied. he makes a note of it and tucks it away.

soon he’s got you on your back, watching your reactions as he slowly rubs your clit over your thin, soaked panties. they’re ruined by this point, already having made you cum in them once just from his torturous pace, with no signs of stopping. “doing so good for me, bebé. being my patient girl ‘ah?” he asks, and it’s all soft and sympathetic and cooey and so unlike him that all you can do is mewl and melt into the sheets, spreading your thighs impossibly wider and humping up against his strong fingers. “sh, cálmate.” he whispers when you buck against him, seeking more. “you’re gonna carry on being my good girl yeah? so excited just from me playing with you like this. takes so little to get you this way. mi niña bonita.” he purs and you’re done for, stomach tensing up as you cum for him again.

maybe there wasn’t such thing as too much praise, not for you anyway.

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel smut #spider-man 2099 smut #kinktober 2023

[omitea]

𝐉𝐉𝐊! 𝐌𝐄𝐍 + 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄

. ft. gojo, geto, nanami, higuruma, choso & toji.

. content. fluff, ass writing, suggestive in nanami’s & geto’s. as i said, ass writing.

. note. i haven’t written in like a week and it shows….this was rushed lol. here u go lovelies, @steleir & @satorisoup. sorry it sucks. and thank u vegas for the idea in higuruma’s <3.

☆— 𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

gojo is very open to being affectionate with you and it’s one of the things he loves the most. he wants to make sure the love he has for you is clearly visible and he proudly puts it all on display. if you were to even think about it, there has never been a time where you couldn’t remember him without a droopy lovesick smile on his face.

he finds solace in covering your adorable face in attentive kisses; referring your face to a canvas and him as the painter who admires the work of art that stands before him. he has his way with words, but also with the way he loves. and as idiotic as he seems to be, he’s just gojo satoru; a man who solemnly wants to give his all to you. and on top of that, he constantly reminds you that getting rid of him isn’t an option.

☆— 𝐆. 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

geto doesn’t care whether it’s you taking care of him or him taking care of you. but he loves making you feel relaxed, it’s a necessity for him at this point. he gets handsy often– grabbing and touching anywhere you allow him to. so, when you asked him if he could get rid of the pain causing knots in your back, he didn’t say a word and happily complied.

he was the one who often asked you if you wanted him to massage you, but this time you asked him instead. this caused a small grin to appear on his face. his warm, yet calloused hands dug into each knot– erupting a small moan of content from your throat. he loves to let his hands travel to the plush of your ass, slowly dragging them to the inside of your thighs. feeling your legs clamp shut on them always manages to leave you two panting, bare bodies against one another as you lay under the covers. you might start thinking that geto had this planned all along.

☆— 𝐊. 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

nanami prefers him doing the most for you instead of you for him. he truly believes you can take great care of yourself, but he gets the instinct to be the one to do that. he makes sure your freshly made breakfast is ready for when you wake up, or he cuts your fruits when you’re working from home. he does way more than that, but it’s even in the bare minimum things that he manages to show his love and gratitude.

something he also loves, but refuses to admit, is the way you crumble underneath him as soft praises escape his swollen lips while he’s deep inside you. hips thrusting slowly with concentration to make sure that even during times like these, you’re being taken care of. nanami loves in all forms, but taking care of you has slowly become his favorite thing to do.

☆— 𝐇. 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐀

higuruma loves giving you flowers. when he comes home from work and sees the shy smile that’s starting to spread on your face upon noticing them in his firm grip. he feels a slight tingle making its way up his spine. that’s what makes it more exciting for him to finish up his paperwork and just soak into the warmth of your loving home.

every week he has a new bouquet with different flowers. he knows you have a favorite, but he didn’t forget when you mentioned how you’d love to have some different colors and smells here and there. when the time comes and they’re all dried and shriveled up, he makes sure to stop by the florist the next day. higuruma is all about making you feel deserving of your favorite things.

☆— 𝐊. 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

choso loves silently, but the affection is still present– even though it’s quiet. he does wanna hug you, give you kisses or sleep on your chest when the day finally comes to an end– but the thoughts surrounding his head makes it all the more impossible for him to ask if you’d want that.

he worries that he may come off as clingy and that maybe you want space, but you reassure him every time and tell him that you love feeling him so close. although no matter how many times you’ve told him that, the thought still lingers here and then. so, he just basks in the moment when you hold him, kiss him and do all the things he loves but is too nervous to do so. 

☆— 𝐓. 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

toji is a lover who doesn’t feel the need to be affectionate to show his love for you. sometimes not even words, or actions that indicate you’re lovers. no, he shows it mostly through caring about you. he may come off as stand-offish to some people— sometimes even to you, but you know the feeling of love grows mutually in the depth of both of your chests.

he has his moments once in a while where he suddenly hugs you, most of them being results of him having a rough day. but when it’s about you, he manages to show that he indeed cares, even in the smallest things. as much as it hurt in the beginning of it all, you grew to accept it. and you concluded that toji loving you in his own ways is better than him not loving you at all.

©𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐀. please refrain from stealing my works !

#—sinnie posts ♡ #☆ —jjk! #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #geto fluff #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #higuruma fluff #higuruma hiromi x reader #higuruma x reader #choso fluff #kamo choso x reader #choso x reader #toji fluff #toji x reader #toji fushigro x reader

[k8luvsu]

“ are you jealous? “

ft. Nanami Kento (from JJK)

plot: f!reader is gifted a bouquet of flowers, from someone that’s not Nanami Kento (your boyfriend)

Nanami Kento x f!reader

comfort / fluff

warnings: f!reader being called “love”, “darling”, “baby”, there’s physical affection

Nanami Kento would understand, you’re perfect, you’re divine, words really can’t express your beauty in and out. You deserve all the flowers in the world, of course someone else would admire her asides from him. So why can’t he get over that fact? Why is he so bothered by the fact that you were gifted flowers? Maybe because that’s his thing. Maybe because you’re his, you’re his lover. He can’t bear the thought of someone else sending you flowers..

He finally had the courage to confront you, to communicate.

“Love?” He murmured quietly as you sat next to him, your head on his shoulder. The brightness of the TV’s screen reflecting in your eyes as you looked up at him. “Hm?”, you responded.

He cleared his throat, trying to not make it awkward, but it probably already is, “Well, see.. uhm..”, he uttered shyly, you nodded as a gesture for him to continue. “I don’t like the fact.. that.. that someone is sending you flowers that’s not me.”, he finally confessed. You make a small smile, in your point of view, it was very obvious, how the past few days he kept sending you your favorite flowers in a bouquet with a short letter attached to it which was written by him, how he’s being more protective than usual, how he’s expressing love and affection in so many ways than before.

He’s trying to prove to you that he’s the only man who can gift you beautiful flowers, he wants to be the only man for you. To be the man. He can’t bear of the thought that one day, someone will replace him in taking care of you and loving you. No. It just has to be him, no one will ever understand how he’s in love with you, obsessed with you, head over heels for you. Which is why, he has to be the man to give you flowers and spoil you.

“Ken, are you jealous?” You giggle, those gorgeous eyes of yours staring into his, if only you could see the faint blush on his cheeks, “Well, what if I am? I’m the only man who can give you flowers, my darling.” He grumbled and looked away, too embarrassed with the fact he’s actually talking about his jealousy towards something like this. “I know, I know,”, you pause, “can you look at me, Kento?” you said in a sweet tone which he can never say no to, your index finger was under his jaw, its impossible not to resist you. With a sigh of defeat, he looks at you with his eyes that has love for you, and only you.

“The flowers you give me are the only ones I’ll accept, I can’t promise you that the anonymous person who sent me those flowers will stop what they’re doing, but I want you to know that I won’t accept it. M’kay? The bouquets of flowers you gift me are unique— sure, other bouquets will have a small card, but your bouquets are the only ones with actual letters attached to it, that’s how I know its from you.” You tell him with a soft voice, placing your hand on top of his and rubbing your thumb on the back of his palm to reassure him. He sighs once more and replies, “You always know what to say, baby.”, he smiles slightly, placing a few kisses on your forehead and hair.

BONUS:

“If something as a different guy sending me flowers makes you jealous, what if Gojo-san sends me flowers?” You tease him with a mischievous grin

“I just hope I won’t go to jail for what’ll happen next, of course, I’ll just have to come up with a plan secretly and somehow not get caught—“ He replied with a hum, yet you could see his eyebrows furrow as he drinks his cup of coffee

“Kento! You wouldn’t,” You gasped dramatically and mockingly, but there’s a smile hidden underneath.

“Well… Gojo knows better than to do anything to or with you, I don’t care if he’s the strongest, he can go to other girls,” He chuckled and smirked

“Fine, fine. Whatever. Can we watch Netflix now, pleasee?” You plead him, pouting as you cling onto him

“Of course, darling. Anything you want.” He kissed the back of your hand and gave you the remote with the handsomest smile.

THE END

reblogs and likes are much appreciated, thank you for reading !! <3

#jjk #nanami kento #jujutsu nanami #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #nanami fluff #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #f!reader #flowers

[pandoraslxna]

hi. im just a girl daydreaming about mating with aged up! loak. please make my dreams come true. some angst. with happy ending. female reader. smut. I BEG YOU. and i would do ANYTHING.

kisses lots of love and bye 🥰

The moon, the stars and his life

adult Lo‘ak x female metkayina reader

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: explicit smut, minors dni, sexual harassment, bullying, mean Aonung (sorry to all Aonung stans), smut with feelings, possessive / jealous Lo‘ak

Notes: I hope that’s what you had in mind, I was simultaneously writing Lo‘ak x reader angst for my fic on ao3 and had to make sure they’re not too similar 😵‍💫

Lo‘ak didn’t know what he did to deserve such a blessing in the shape of you. Did he even deserve it? He doubts it. You were just so perfect, from the top of your head to your cute little toes and the tip of your tail. Perfect.

Which is why it hurts even more, to hear those Metkayina boys talk about him like this to you...

Originally, he just wanted to go for a swim, see what you were up to and if you wanted to come along and spend some time with him. Down at the shore is where he had finally found you. You were sitting in the sand, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your skin and with your feet in the clear water, while you were braiding your hair in peaceful silence. Lo’ak was about to approach you, until Aonung and his friends came into view.

The sight of them, surrounding you like you were their prey made him clench his teeth in anger. But before he mindlessly jumps into action like last time, he decides to watch, see what they’re gonna do. At first he thought they would tease you too, just like they did with him and Kiri- for your different shaped tail and small arms. But the conversation quickly went into a different direction.

"…You should hang out with us instead", one of them says and reaches his hand out to brush through your hair. "We can show you around, nobody knows these island like we do, baby." You’re quick to shove his hand away, politely declining his offer. You’re always so kind, Lo’ak sighs. Too kind. You wouldn’t hurt a fly, couldn’t treat them in the same disrespectful way as they were treating you.

"Ohh I forgot", Aonung says with a wink to his friends that you completely miss, "You and Lo‘ak, right?" The chiefs son confidently lays his arm around your shoulder and pulls you a little closer, much to your visible annoyance. "What does a pretty girl like you even see in a freak like him, huh? Have you seen his hands? Gross!" The group laughs at his words. "That dick can’t even be that good, right? If you come with us, we‘ll show you how you deserve to be treated." You scrunch your nose in disgust of these words.

"C‘mon, don’t be so shy, we don’t bite. Let’s have a little fun together. You don’t have to hang around with that freak all day." Aonung leans even closer to you and that’s when you finally decide it’s enough and get up. It pains him to see that forced smile on your lips, knowing you’re too scared to tell these guys to fuck off. Instead, you politely tell them that you had to leave now.

"If you ever want to get a taste of real Na‘vi, you know where to find me!" Aonung calls after you and his friends can’t hold back their laughs.

~

"Lo‘ak, there you are!", your soft voice calls out for him. "Oel ngati kameie." You greet him with a smile but he can’t bring himself to return it to you. With a frown you sit down next to him and immediately ask, "What’s wrong?" Lo‘ak shrugs, "Nothing is wrong."

"Are you sure?", you lean against his side and look up to him through your long lashes.

"Yes, I‘m sure", Lo‘ak responds cold and you sigh.

"Lo‘ak I’ve known you long enough now, I can tell from a mile away that there’s something on your mind so spit it out." The Na‘vi knows he won’t stand a chance against you. You always got everything you wanted from him and it was impossible to tell you no, let alone keep something secret from you. You definitely had your ways of getting him to talk…

"Do you think I’m a freak?", he mumbles and you raise your eyebrows in surprise.

"What?", you scoff, "Why would I think that?"

"I’ve heard your conversation with Aonung", he tells you with a painful look on his face.

"These guys are pricks, Lo‘ak. Just a bunch of village boys that are probably too scared to ever leave their home. They could’ve never done what you and your family did."

"I know that but–"

"Just imagine them in the forest, do you think they would be able to adapt as quick as you did? Can you imagine Aonung bonding with an Ikran?" She laughs and his features soften a little. "Fishlips wouldn’t survive a day!"

It’s incredible. You are incredible. You just had this way of magically washing away all of his worries in the blink of an eye.

"So you’re… not interested in spending your time with Aonung instead of me?" He playfully nudges your side and you giggle.

"Oh you know, his offer was definitely appealing, but I’m way more interested to be with one of those Omatikaya boys. You know, the cute one? What was his name again?"

Lo‘ak rolls his eyes and chuckles, "Skxawng."

"No, I think his name is Lo‘a–" You can’t even finish the sentence. Without thinking, Lo’ak reaches down, hand cupping the back of your neck so he can haul you into a kiss. He always kisses you like it was the only thing that could keep him from dying, like your kiss and your lips were his saving grace in life.

You kiss him back just as eagerly, matching his vigor, his speed and that’s one of the things he loves about you. One of the things that’s been driving him crazy, keeping him up until ungodly hours as he tries to figure out how someone could affect him this way. You always keep up, even if you’re not ready to run into the line of fire.

You rest your hand on his chest, tilting your head and he instantly wedges his tongue between your lips. Lo’ak has something of an oral fixation. He’s all lips and teeth and tongue, he sucks and bites at every inch of skin he sees, like somehow it brings you even closer to him. You know that it isn’t necessary for him to leave a mark, everybody knows you are his, but he tends to anyways, with how he assaults your skin. In the blink of an eye, your top is discarded to somewhere behind him and then your back makes contact with the warm sand. The Na’vi groans with your nipple between his lips, desperation rocketing through your core and up your spine at the feeling, the sound. His lashes flutter as he suddenly pulls back to gaze up at you.

Lo’aks fingers tighten on your hips, almost possessively, as he looks at you. "You’re mine", he tells you and immediately you know, it's not something he says just like that. Nothing he says only in the heat of the moment. He says it because he means it. You were his. Always and forever. You look at him with your big doe eyes and nod. He reaches behind his back for his braided ponytail and then presents those tiny, pinkish tendrils in front of your face. You waste no time doing the same, reaching for your tswin.

"Say it", he demands, breathing heavily, "Say you’re mine." His pupils dilate as he watches your lips move, "I‘m yours, Lo‘ak. Only yours." And with that you connect, forming the tsaheylu bond. Your eyes close and you sigh in unison.

An almost animalistic purr rumbles deep within his chest and his broad hands sweep up your thighs, the lightest of touches searing against your bare skin. You lean yourself on your forearms to catch his lips in another kiss, rougher this time, letting him wrap his arms around you and pull you closer. Subconsciously, you roll your hips up against his, gasping into his mouth at the grind of his erection against your core. His hold on you falters for just half a second and then it returns with a vengeance, fingers digging into your skin and you gasp.

Lo‘ak‘s lip twitches up into a smug smile.

He’s desperate to have you. Seeing another man hit on you today has awoken some animalistic urge inside of him. He wants you to scream– scream so loud that everyone in the village would know what’s going on. If he wasn’t so possessive over you, he would’ve enjoyed to let Aonung watch you fall apart for him and nobody else. Because yes, his dick really is that good.

Your hips buck, seeking any sort of friction to ease the ache between your thighs. The throbbing between your legs has steadily grown and now reached a point where you couldn’t ignore it. Lo‘ak is quick to realize that and grinds his own hips against yours. You can’t help but let out a desperate moan.

Lo’aks hands make quick, steady work on your loincloth, pushing and pulling at it until it‘s bunched around your waist just high enough so that he can slip his hand between your thighs and finally get a feel of your wet heat.

“So wet for me already, sweet girl?” A lewd grin takes over his face as he runs two fingers through your slit. "I’ve barely even started." He dips his fingers into you just enough so that you begin to feel a hint of the stretch he could give you, but not enough to please any desire. "Lo‘ak please", you whine desperately. "Please, what? Tell me what you want, my mate."

How could you possibly decide?

“Anything, I’ll take anything", You moan out.

With a chuckle, Lo‘ak makes the decision for you, moving quickly as he frees his cock from his loincloth. You stare at it without a shame. No matter how many times you saw it, you would never get tired of the perfect sight. Lo‘ak kisses you once more, kisses you like it was the last time he would ever get to.

Slowly, he lowers his body onto yours, until there was not a single part of you both that was not touching. You fit together like a puzzle.

Pushing a hand in between your bodies, he guides the tip of his cock to prod against your entrance. "Don’t forget to breathe", he whispers against your lips and you release the breathe you didn’t even realize you were holding. The stretch of his cock entering you is a lot, but it’s not entirely painful. You whine and cling to him, nails digging into his back and Lo‘ak groans.

His fingers expertly find your clit and he begins to rub small, gentle circles around it, never ceasing to kiss you all the while. A shudder goes through your entire body at the stimulation and you sigh into his mouth before breaking away to let out a long moan.

You’re warm and soft around him, tight but still giving as he stretches you. Once fully inside, he stills, pushing his face into the side of your neck. "Oh fuck,” he curses under his breath.

He reaches up to grab one of your arms, pulling it from its position around his back and pushes it down on the warm sand, intertwining your three fingers with his own, four, much larger ones.

And then, he begins to move. His strokes are deep and on point, pace slow at first but increasing as time passes, your whines turning more desperate with every thrust of his hips. His eyes roam over you, starting from where you were connected– in and out, his cock glistening with your slickness. Then your breasts, bouncing every time your hips meet. And finally your face, lips swollen red from his kisses, cheeks flushed and eyes half lidded, yet still focused on him –an expression that only he would ever get to see on that pretty face of yours.

From then on, his eyes were locked with yours. Something has him trapped in your gaze and if you asked him to now, he would give you the moon and the stars and his life.

A moan slips past his lips when he feels you clench around him. "You feel -oh, fuck- feel so good, squeezing me so tight", and to underline his statement, his hips snap roughly against yours and you moan, loud. "Lo‘ak!"

"Yeah, just like that. Let them all hear who’s making you feel so good", he groans. Unable to hold himself back, the Na‘vi starts to increase his pace to match the intensity of his feelings for you. You buck your hips, trying to match his as a shared effort to chase the sweet release together. Sounds of pleasure fall from both of your lips, uncaring if you’re too loud. It’s was too late for that now anyways.

The coil in your stomach tightens dangerously, prompting you to curl your toes. You squirm against Lo‘ak, who continues to hold you close to his body as his thrusts loose their rhythm, becoming much more erratic. "I’m coming, Lo’ak, feels too good", you moan and whine and he nods along to your words. "I know, I know its so fucking good, right?" You lift your legs and wrap them around his hips, locking your ankles together behind him as Lo‘ak continues to pound into you, unable to think of anything else asides from the way your walls tighten around his throbbing cock.

He curses under his breath, uncertain if he can hold out for much longer until one deep and hard thrust has you throwing your head back, screaming out his name as your body shakes under him, your walls clenching dangerously tight around him. "Good girl", he praises as he fucks you through it, "That’s it, my sweet mate. Let me feel you cum on my cock." Your nails claw at his back without restraint, eliciting a small hiss from him before white fills his vision. His head dips low to bite into your shoulder, trying to muffle his own moans while enjoying the feeling of the tip of his cock kissing your cervix over and over again. And then he spills inside you, claiming you as his, once again.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The walk back to your marui pod is filled with sweet laughs and giggles, as you hold onto his arm and intertwine your fingers with his. Aonungs face is sour, anger radiating off of him in waves as you both pass him like two lovebirds. The both of you don’t even realize that he’s there, too lost in each others eyes, as you bring Lo‘ak‘s hands to your lips and press a soft kiss to his pinkie.

#lo‘ak x female reader smut #loak x reader smut #avatar loak #loak x reader #loak sully #loak angst #loak x you #atwow loak #avatar way of water #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #lo‘ak x reader smut #neteyam #jake sully #lo‘ak #loak #･ ｡ﾟ☆: *my works* :☆ﾟ.

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Week 2023

May 28th Prompt: Free Space

Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6

@steddie-week

(Warning for queer slurs, but spoken in love, if that makes sense?)

“I hate you,” Robin hisses, eyes glassy. She covers her mouth, shakes her head. “Steve. Holy shit.”

He’s looking at her with an unreadable expression. His eyes are also glassy. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s gonna love it. Fuck. Fuck you, dingus, I didn’t want to cry today.”

He laughs, then, and gathers her into his arms. “Thanks for letting me practice on you, Robbie.”

“I’m never doing that again. Holy shit.”

Steve smirks. “It’s alright. I promise to cry whenever you practice on me for Vickie.”

She pinches his side. He elbows hers. “Let me know when you decide to do it, yeah? I’ll steal Jon’s camera.”

Steve snorts. “Just borrow it like a normal person, Robs.”

“Literally when have I ever been normal.”

“…Fair point.” He shifts. “You think he’s gonna like it? For real?”

“If he doesn’t like it I’m taking your nail bat and practicing with his head.”

“Robin, oh my god.” He laughs, probably more than the joke warrants—especially considering he’s not entirely sure she’s joking—but he’s so relieved. “I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too, dingus. Just tell me when.”

“Um. Tomorrow night, actually. I’m taking him back to Hawkins, to the quarry.”

She makes a face. “Why there?”

“It was our first date. We had a picnic.”

“Oh my god,” Robin says, then her eyes widen. “Wait. Steve. Steve. You have a ring.”

Steve laughs, digs his hand into his pocket. “I was wondering when you’d ask.”

“Oh, fuck you,” she says, grabbing at his hand and peeling his fingers open, grabbing the ring as soon as she can, turning it and inspecting it. She frowns a little, looking intently at the inside. “What-”

Steve smiles. “I love you in Elvish.”

“You’re both suck dorks.” She looks up at him, smiles. “He’s gonna absolutely love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You know he’s head over heels for you.”

Steve blushes. “I still don’t know how.”

“Because you deserve it, dingus, you’re a good guy. A really good guy. And, according to everyone who likes guys, you’re extremely attractive.”

Steve laughs. “Thanks, Robin.”

“You’re welcome.”

A key in the lock startles them, and Robin slips the ring back into Steve’s pocket a second before the door opens. “Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie says, smiling at Steve, before turning to smirk at Robin. “Hey, freeloader.”

She squawks and launches herself at him, clinging on like a koala. “I’ll show you freeloader.”

“Oh my god get off of me you weigh a ton, Stevie, baby, help me!”

Steve just laughs. “You brought this upon yourself, babe.”

“Ah!” Eddie winces. “Jesus, Robs, elbows! In my spleen! How the fuck did you even do that, you fucking contortionist?”

“Dick.”

“Dyke.”

“Faggot.”

“Jesus fuck,” Steve mutters, eyeing the two of them. “It’s impossible for there to be peace when you two are together, isn’t it?”

They both look at him and answer simultaneously. “Yes.”

They both laugh as Robin drops off of Eddie, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she ruffles his hair. He grins and kisses her forehead before moving to embrace Steve, wrapping him in a hug and kissing his temple. He sighs, long and content. “It’s good to be home.”

Steve chuckles. “Was today that bad?”

“No, just long. Dinner?”

“In the oven.”

Just then the timer dings, and Robin races past them, yelling over her shoulder, “I’ll get it!”

They both chuckle, then Steve kisses Eddie’s cheek. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

“We’re going to Hawkins tomorrow.”

Eddie’s brows scrunch up. “What?”

“Hawkins. Tomorrow. I’m the one with hearing loss, babe.”

“Actually, with your hearing aids, I’m pretty sure you can hear better than I can.”

“Fuck off.”

“Mmm, no. Something about how you love me.”

Steve softens. “Something like that,” he agrees, pressing a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips, swaying them in place, like they’re dancing. “I already called off for you. And for me. It’s overnight, but just for a night. We’re gonna drive back the next day.”

Eddie smiles. “Am I ever gonna understand what goes on in your head?”

Steve laughs. “You already do. Sometimes you know me better than I know myself.”

Eddie nudged Steve’s nose with his own. “Something about how I love you.”

“Something like that,” Steve agrees, then lets Eddie seal their lips together.

That is, until a knitted potholder flies into their faces. “Dinner time,” Robin says brightly when they break apart, like she isn’t the reason for the airborne potholder.

“And you’re sure you can’t tell me why we’re going to Hawkins?” Eddie wheedles for what feels like the millionth time.

“Nope,” Steve says happily, popping the p. “You’ll just have to wait. Enjoy the suspense. I am.”

“You’re only enjoying it because you know where we’re going,” Eddie argues.

“Exactly,” Steve says, then takes Eddie’s hand. “You’re gonna love it, Eds. Please stop worrying.”

“I’m not worrying,” Eddie says, then slumps when Steve just turns an eyebrow on him. “Okay, maybe I’m worrying a little. But only a very little!”

Steve chuckles. “Sure, babe.” A few minutes later, he reaches up to turn the radio down. “How’d you feel about no music for a while?”

“Okay,” Eddie says immediately, looking at Steve. “Are you okay? Headache?”

Steve smiles, brings Eddie’s hand up to his mouth to kiss it. “No headache, I’m okay. I was actually wondering if you’d read to me for a bit.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “You brought a book?”

Steve hums. “In the backseat, blue bag.”

Eddie reaches back and rifles around for a minute, then looks at Steve with a delighted expression. “I’m kissing you as soon as you stop driving.”

Steve chuckles. “Duly noted. Start wherever you want.”

Eddie blinks. “I’m in the middle of this one.”

“I know.”

“You won’t have any idea what’s going on.”

“I like listening to you.”

“You’re a sap,” Eddie says, even more delighted. “Holy fuck, I love you. Okay, um, I’m on chapter ten. The choices of Master Samwise. Frodo was lying face upward on the ground and the monster was bending over him, so intent upon her victim that she took no heed of Sam and his cries, until he was close at hand. As he rushed up he saw that Frodo was already bound in cords, wound about him from ankle to shoulder, and the monster with her great forelegs was beginning half to lift, half to drag his body away.”

He continues reading, getting more and more into it, affecting accents for the different voices, slowing down for some parts and speeding up for others, and Steve thinks his heart might burst for how much he loves this man.

They arrive in Hawkins before too long, and the first thing they do—just like every time they have to go into Hawkins for whatever reason—is visit Wayne.

Eddie blinks when he opens the door. “What the fuck?”

Steve and Wayne share a look borne of knowing Eddie. “You alright, Wayne?”

Wayne waves him off, makes a face at his cane. “Fine. Slight accident at work, fell wrong, banged my hip. I still get around fine and I didn’t want you two worryin’ none.”

“That’s our job, old man,” Eddie says, pulling Wayne into a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you boys, too.” He hugs Steve next. “C’mon in, make yourselves at home, y’know the drill. Steve, you wanna grab us some beers?”

“Love to,” Steve replies with a chuckle, following Wayne inside.

They talk and catch up for a few minutes before Eddie excuses himself to use the restroom. “Your stuff’s in the pantry,” Wayne murmurs to Steve. “Want to run it out to the car before he gets back?”

“Oh,” Steve says, like he just realized. “I asked after you’d fallen, didn’t I?”

Wayne hums noncommittally. “Not like I minded. Was just about goin’ stir crazy with the time off work.”

Steve chuckles, leans in to hug Wayne, and goes to put the bag in the car.

A few minutes later they’re hugging goodbye. “Robin’s here to take pictures,” Steve murmurs in Wayne’s ear. “I’ll get her to drive you up to Indy for the dinner tomorrow.”

“‘Preciate it,” Wayne says, clapping Steve on the back before turning to Eddie. “Get in here, boy.”

Eddie laughs and hugs his uncle. “Love ya, Wayne.”

“You too, kid. Take good care of ‘im, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “We’ll see you later.”

“Mhm. You kids have fun.”

Eddie narrows his eyes at Steve as soon as they’re back in the car. “That wasn’t what we came down here for.”

“Nope,” Steve agrees. “You’ll see soon enough, Eds.”

Eddie sighs and collapses back into his seat. Steve just grins, wholly in love.

Soon, though, he sits up again, interest piqued. “Are we going to the quarry?”

“Got it in one.”

“Steve,” Eddie says slowly, suspiciously. “What are we doing here?”

Steve doesn’t answer for a few minutes, just plays with Eddie’s fingers with one hand, the other on the wheel, his eyes never leaving the road. “Remember the first time we went to the quarry?”

“Must’ve been eight years ago, now, huh?”

“Just about,” Steve agrees. “We were just kids, terrified and halfway in love and no clue about how our lives would turn out. But we made it. Against all odds, we made it.” He glances at Eddie, smiles. “Thought it would be kinda poetic, coming back here.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees softly, rapt attention on Steve.

“So,” Steve continues, shrugging. “There’s some stuff in the back. Thought it might be nice to have a picnic again. Just to take some time off and remember how it was back then, think about where we were versus where we are.”

“Ugh,” Eddie says, glassy-eyed. “What have you done to me, I used to be cool.”

Steve laughs. “You’ve always been a nerd, babe. Pretty sure I’m the only one who thinks you’re cool.”

“Well, joke’s gonna be on you when we have a kid and they think I’m the coolest dad ever.”

Steve blinks, smiling even as Eddie freezes beside him. “I bet they will, Eds.”

That small sentence is enough to release the tension coiling inside Eddie, flowing out and leaving him looking at Steve, besotted.

Steve parks and they make their way to the edge, a mirror of all those years ago. Steve unfolds a blanket and lays it out, thrusting the bag at Eddie. “Here, start getting the food out, please.”

Eddie’s eyebrows steadily climb higher as he unpacks. Sandwiches, fruits, brownies, and drinks. Both of their favorites, and Steve makes a mental note to do something for Wayne soon, because nobody deserves the actual angel that is Wayne Munson.

They eat and talk and joke around, and kiss—a lot—and just as they’re finishing, the first raindrop splatters down.

Steve looks up, dismayed, to see dark clouds all around them.

Eddie whoops and jumps up, packing everything up and stuffing it back in the car, before running back to Steve and swinging him around in a hug, laughing. “What,” Steve says, but he’s laughing too, because he can’t not be happy when Eddie’s happy.

Eddie stops, sets him down, and grabs both his hands, looking Steve in the eyes. “Do you remember a few days ago when we were watching Singing in the Rain?”

The last time they’d seen the movie was at least four months ago. “Sure.”

“And you were sighing, all forlorn, and I asked what was wrong? And you said you thought you would’ve liked to dance around with someone in the rain?”

Steve can’t help the laugh. “I’m in love with your brain. That was at least five years ago, Eds.”

Eddie frowns. “No, that can’t be right, that was like, a week ago.”

Steve laughs harder. He can’t tell if the water on his cheeks is rain or tears. He doesn’t really care. “It was at least five years ago,” he assures his boyfriend.

“Huh,” Eddie says, shrugging. “Okay, well, I waited and waited and waited and it never worked out. It either always rained while we were asleep or while we were at work, or if we weren’t either of those things, it was a thunderstorm, and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna take you out in that. So.” He grins, wide and unashamed, and bows, offering Steve a hand. “May I have this dance?”

Steve’s going to die and it’s going to be Eddie’s fault. His heart is just going to give out one day because it can’t take how much he loves Eddie. “Of course,” Steve answers, taking Eddie’s hand, and Eddie lights up, dragging Steve into a crushing hug and pressing their lips together in a bruising kiss. “I love you,” he murmurs against Eddie’s lips. His breath hitches. “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much,” Eddie responds softly, wiping away Steve’s tears. “Happy?”

“Beyond,” Steve answers, floundering for a way to tell Eddie exactly how he’s feeling. But then Eddie smiles at him, and his smile is wobbly, and Steve suddenly knows Eddie knows exactly how he’s feeling.

They sway together for minutes or hours or days, Steve doesn’t know or care, letting the rain on the leaves and the ground be the rhythm they move to, an unhurried dance that somehow means everything.

The rain eventually lets up, and Steve pulls away after a few minutes, so they’re holding hands. “I have a question.”

“Okay.”

“We’ve known each other for a little over eight years now. We saved the world and managed to fall in love in the middle of it. The Shire was burning, we defeated Sauron, and I carried you out of Mordor. Against all odds we made it out alive, and against all odds we made it out of the Shire, and against all odds we made it together. It’s been eight years and every one’s been an adventure. Every day has been an adventure with you. And I may not know what our lives may hold next, but I know whatever the adventure is, I don’t want to do it without you by my side.” He kneels, pulling out the ring, and Eddie gasps, tearing up.

“Stevie-”

“So,” he continues. “Eddie. I know we can’t legally get married. I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to, but I don’t care. I don’t need the government to tell me who I can and can’t marry. I love you, baby, and if you’ll have me, I’ll love you forever. Will you fuck the government and marry me?”

Eddie’s shaking. “That,” he manages after a minute, “was metal as fuck, baby.” He sniffs, shakes his head, and laughs. “Of course. Of course I’ll marry you. We’ll flip off the whole of the government together.”

“Hell yeah,” Steve says, grinning, and stands. “Before you put the ring on, though, there’s something I want you to see.” He turns it, points out the inscription on the inside, and Eddie tackles him with a yell, and they both go down laughing.

“Baby,” Eddie manages after a minute. “Holy shit. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks rhetorically, and they both watch as he slides the ring onto his fiancé’s finger.

It’s a perfect fit.

#steddieweek2023 #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #platonic stobin #robin buckley #steve and wayne #eddie and wayne munson #wayne munson #did I scare y’all at first? #did I make y’all cry? #I hope so #i hope y’all like it #starambles

[alwaysmicado]

Fleshlight

5.2k | 18+ MDNI | Nathan Bateman x f!reader

Warnings: pwp, D/s dynamic, vaginal fisting, object insertion, p in v (kind of), edging, pussy & face slapping, degradation, dacryphilia, soft(ish) Nathan Summary: Nathan punishes you for being a spoiled brat by edging you in various ways. A/N: I don’t have an excuse for this one...please just know that it’s not my fault. It’s his. Can be read alone or together with my other Nathan fics. Enjoy and let me know what you think! 🤍

“I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?” he asks you with a raised eyebrow, his fingers lightly tracing your naked belly. “Go on.” 

You shakily exhale, the sensation of Nathan’s touch overwhelming your already oversensitive body. Nathan knows perfectly well that every caress, every contact sends your brain into a frenzy, rendering coherent thought or speech impossible. The self-satisfied smirk on his stupid, handsome face tells you as much.

The fact that he’s stroking his cock while sitting on his heels between your spread legs isn’t helping either.

Not at all. 

“Hey,” he slaps you hard across the face when you take too long to answer him. “I’m not telling you again.”

The dark glint in his eyes and the harshness of the slap tell you that he means it. His stinging hand goes back to caressing your naked belly, moving further up to your exposed tits. 

You take a second to process the searing pain spreading across your cheek before your brain urges you to speak. “I’m sorry, it just–” Your voice catches in your throat as hot tears well up and trickle down your temples. Your whole body is trembling. “It hurts so bad.”

A sob escapes your quivering lips. They’re swollen and bruised from all the nipping and sucking Nathan’s been doing over the past hour, dried blood visible in the left corner from where he struck you particularly hard.  

Nathan chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his whole face lighting up with genuine joy at your despair. “If you think this little show of yours is gonna get you out of your punishment, you’re mistaken, baby. Now get the fuck on, or I’ll double it.”

His hand explores your left tit, caressing it, squeezing it, savoring the feeling of your warm, soft skin. 

“I don’t deserve to come because I’m a spoiled brat,” you whine as he brushes over your erect nipple, a jolt of electricity shooting through you.

“Hmm, is that so?” he asks facetiously, pinching your nipple and tugging on it so hard you cry out and yank at the cuffs binding you to Nathan’s bed, writhing in pain and ecstasy.

At this point, you could probably come from him pinching your nipple long enough.

“Yes,” you pant, your chest heaving as he’s moved on to your right tit, circling your nipple with the pad of his middle finger.

“You know, it’s funny. I hear your words, but I still don’t think you actually mean them.”

Nathan abandons his cock to reach for the bottle of lube on the nightstand, pouring a generous amount of the cold fluid onto his right hand. Your alert eyes follow each of his movements, and a whimper escapes your lips as you realize what’s coming.

“‘Cause you wouldn’t be such a whiny crybaby if you really meant what you said,” he sighs, his dark eyes studying your face with satisfaction. You’re sweaty, teary-eyed, desperate, and undeniably beautiful. 

He spreads the lube over his fingers, his palm, and the back of his hand, meticulously coating them in the slick substance. With a swift motion, he wipes his left hand on the towel beside your torso before sliding his lubed-up fingers up and down your puffy folds. Your eyes flutter shut at his touch, and a moan escapes your lips as you eagerly arch your hips, craving more of his touch.

A harsh slap on your swollen, oversensitive clit jolts your eyes back open as you cry out in agony. Overwhelming pain shoots through your body, leaving you gasping and writhing against the restraints. Desperately, you attempt to wriggle away and close your legs, but the taut ropes don’t allow you to move much at all.

They’re attached to the cuffs around your wrists and your thighs, right above your knees, connected to the headboard. You have no chance of getting away.

You’re bound, helpless, spread open—completely at Nathan’s mercy.

The stinging sensation from his slap is so painful that a fresh wave of tears streams down your temples, your attempts to stifle the pained noises leaving your lips proving futile.

“I decide how and when to touch you, slut,” Nathan purrs in a deceptively calm voice. “You understand?”

When you don’t respond quickly enough, he delivers another sharp strike to your clit, eliciting a mixture of yelps from you, blending agony and elation. Your body’s wound so tightly that if he keeps this up, he’ll make you come from his slaps alone.

“Yes,” you blurt out, tears stinging your eyes. “I understand.”

Nathan’s been edging you for what feels like an eternity—torturing you with his tongue, his fingers, his voice. Each time he’d get you close to coming, he’d stop all movement, reveling in the progressively more desperate pleas and screams falling from your lips. 

“What’s your color, baby?”

He watches your face intently as he slides three fingers inside you in one swift movement, leisurely fucking your dripping wet pussy.

“Green,” you moan, arching your back as your walls clamp down hard around Nathan’s digits. His left hand grips your thigh, his fingertips digging into your skin.

Satisfied with your answer, he pulls his fingers out of you and glides his lubed-up hand through your folds, tracing a path from your swollen clit down to your asshole. After thoroughly covering you in lube, he withdraws his hand and looks at your face. Your eyes are filled with lust, your pupils dilated, your gaze locked onto Nathan’s dark eyes.

“Mmm, I love when you look at me like that, slut,” he murmurs, brushing his fingertips over your clit.

The low sounds of pleasure from your lips are sweet, but Nathan’s searching for harder sounds of ecstasy.

Holding onto your hip with his left hand, he slides his fingers back inside you, adding his pinky this time, slowly pushing all four fingers all the way in. You gasp as he stretches you, holding his fingers inside you so you can adjust to them. Encouraged by your desperate noises, he rotates his hand clockwise and counter-clockwise, feeling your muscles gradually yield and welcome the intrusion.

Your body trembles under his touch, each sensation sparking a surge of electricity that courses through you, igniting every nerve ending with a fiery intensity.

With an extra little push, the big knuckles of Nathan’s hand press against your glistening, stretched lips, your moans escalating into a squeal of ecstasy.

“Oh, fuck, Nathan!”

He holds his hand still for a moment, scanning your face for any signs of discomfort, before easing back an inch and gradually sliding back in. Your body responds with urgency, writhing against the restraints as you moan and whimper at the sensation of Nathan's knuckles disappearing inside you.

“Almost there, my filthy little whore,” he murmurs, amazed by the elasticity of your pussy. 

He squeezes more lube onto his exposed hand and maintains the slow, rhythmic in-and-out movement. After a minute, he reaches the point where all he has to do is tuck in his thumb and push, and his hand would slide in the rest of the way.

“You wanna feel my fist inside you, slut?” Nathan’s dark eyes pierce yours, the hunger you can see in them causing your pussy to clench around his fingers.

“Yes,” you let out, breathless, helpless. You’re a puddle from his touch, and all you want is for him to keep filling you, your desire for him insatiable.

After a few more pumps, he pulls his fingers out almost completely, and moves his thumb into their wet embrace. Slowly, savoring the delicious feeling of your warm cunt around his fingers, he pushes all five digits into you, past the first knuckles, past the second knuckles, holding them still for a moment, listening to your breath, to your rising sounds of ecstasy.

Nathan begins to move his hand out slightly, then in slightly, his wrist twisting subtly with each motion. With every inward push, his hand penetrates a little deeper, methodically stretching you and testing your limits. He halts with the base of his thumb resting against your opening, teasingly maneuvering his hand in and out before applying pressure once more.

Each push elicits another moan from you as his hand slips deeper, gradually stretching you open. To distract you, he pinches your clit as the base of his thumb disappears inside you. 

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages you as his hand slides fully into your cunt, your muscles closing around his wrist. He keeps his hand still, allowing your body to adjust to the stretch.

You moan, deep and low, trying not to move at all. Any movement touches upon his hand inside and causes a delicious pain he’s only made you feel once before. Gasping for air, you struggle to maintain your composure.

“Breathe, baby. Slowly, in and out,” Nathan coaxes, his voice a soothing contrast to the intensity of the moment.

You let your head fall back onto the soft pillow and do as instructed, focusing on slowing your breath and calming your racing heart.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos. “You feel so fucking good.”

Nathan’s in heaven. There is nothing in the world he could ever buy or create to equal the intoxicating rush of power he’s feeling right now. With deliberate care, he curls his fingers into a fist, and he holds you, owns you completely. In this moment, you are wholly his, lost in ecstasy, panting and whimpering as your body submits to his command.

He feels your walls tense, wrapping tightly around his fist, then relax slightly. Your face contorts in agonized bliss as he rotates his wrist, feeling the walls of your flesh rub against his hand and knuckles. 

“Oh fuck,” you groan as he begins to slowly thrust his fist in and out of you, the squelching sounds coming from your dripping hole amplifying the arousal between you both.

“I’m–I’m so full. It—shit—it feels too good, Nathan. You’re—oh fuck—you’re gonna make me come like this.” 

“Look at you,” Nathan chuckles, increasing the pace of his strokes, while his other hand pinches your clit. You yelp, feeling yourself edging closer with every movement of his fist inside your cunt.

“You’re a filthy little whore, aren’t you?” he says, his breathing labored. “Yeah, you are. Letting me destroy your pussy like this and enjoying it. Filthy.”

You rock your hips, your body responding eagerly to Nathan’s touch, every sensation heightened to an almost unbearable intensity. Suddenly, you feel the overwhelming urge to come, knowing you can’t hold it back much longer.

“Please, Nathan, can I please come?” you cry out, your pussy contracting around his hand, your legs trembling. “Please, I–I can’t–”

You hear his harsh voice, “No, baby. You better hold it or you’ll be in even more trouble.”

You barely comprehend what he says to you, but you can tell by the sound of his voice that he’s not going to relent. He doesn’t give you a second to rest, continuously sliding his slick hand in and out of your pussy, greedily absorbing your delicious groans.

You close your eyes as you strain every single muscle in your body, biting your lip so hard you can taste blood, doing everything in your power to resist tipping over the edge.

“Open your eyes,” Nathan’s voice penetrates your foggy mind. “Look at me.”

You have to fight to open your eyelids.

Nathan’s gaze darkens, locking onto yours, willing you to keep your focus on him. Your body is slick with sweat, chest heaving with each labored breath as you find yourself enveloped in a haze—a trance of pure ecstasy, pain, and submission.

Nathan’s eyes drift downwards to where your bodies are connected, marveling at the sight of his wrist wrapped by your eager lips. His cock is throbbing, leaking precum onto the bed, begging for release. With a sense of reverence, he holds his hand still inside of you for a few moments longer, relishing the sensation, all while studying your expression and absorbing the symphony of your blissful pain.

“Please, Nathan,” you whine, tears welling up in your eyes, spilling over, and running down your temples. Nathan’s cock twitches at the sight.

“No, baby, you’re not allowed to come,” he says calmly, his tone laced with feigned pity, even as he continues to slide his fist in and out consistently. His eyes bore into yours and you feel like he’s penetrating your soul.

“You came into the lab looking like a hooker, interrupting my work because you were bored. I explained to you that I was busy and that you’d have to wait until I was done. You were mouthy and acted like an entitled princess, so I told you to leave and that you’d be punished. This is your punishment. You’re not allowed to come for a week and during that time, I’ll edge you as much as I please.”

“I know, I know,” you stammer, your voice breaking. “I’m so–sorry, Nathan, please.”

“Not good enough, baby. You made your choice, and now you have to face the consequences like a big girl.”

Feeling your walls flutter around his fist and hearing your moans grow louder, Nathan stops all movement, keeping his hand nestled inside you, waiting patiently for the wave of ecstasy to subside.

Your pathetic whimpering only serves to fuel Nathan’s arousal further, his cock aching to finally get some relief. Deciding that you’ve been stretched enough for what he’s got planned for you, he begins the slow process of withdrawing his hand from your cunt.

“Deep breaths, baby,” he whispers, lightly brushing over your clit with his left thumb.

“Oh, fuck! Fuck, fuck fuck!” Your cries echo through the room as your tortured pussy begins again to open wide for him.

“That’s it,” Nathan murmurs, his voice a husky blend of primal satisfaction and raw desire, on the verge of coming untouched as he watches his hand slowly sliding out of his favorite place in the world, your trembling, slick lips parting reluctantly to release him.

The gentle grazing of his hand against your walls ignites waves of exquisite pain, and as his knuckles spread you open, the sensation intensifies, stretching you to your limits and amplifying the pleasure coursing through your body. 

“Please, Nathan, please, please, please,” you whimper, your pleas escaping in a desperate cascade of need. Your mind wanders, losing itself in another realm where you soar, liberated and weightless.

Nathan can feel the involuntary pressure of your body starting to push him out, but he resists the pressure to avoid a sudden exit that might cause you to faint. He needs you awake.

“Easy, baby,” he whispers, softly stimulating your clit with his thumb again.

As his hand slowly emerges from your raw, sensitive pussy, your body begins to shudder. Your abused hole is gaping, liquid flowing from its opening. Your eyes are glossy as you look at Nathan, your tongue absentmindedly licking over your chapped lips.

He sits back on his heels and lightly pets your thighs, spreading the combination of lube and your slickness across your skin. 

“Color, baby?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.

You take a deep breath before responding, “Green.”

“Very good,” he acknowledges with a smile, giving your clit a tap before rising from the bed. “Cause I’m not done with you.” 

He walks over to the nightstand, picks up the glass of water, and brings it to your lips. With a supportive hand, he steadies your neck, encouraging you to take a few sips.

Satisfied with your intake, he gently lowers your head back onto the pillow and sets down the glass. Then, he retrieves something from the bottom drawer of the nightstand.

His smirk worries you.

As he’s moved away from the bed, your gaze is drawn to the mirrors opposite the bed, reflecting your disheveled form. You observe your puffy, glistening folds, the wet spot on the sheets between your legs, your red eyes, your bruised and bloody lips—you’re a complete mess. A complete, happy mess. 

Nathan rounds the bed, standing in front of you with the object of his desire. It takes your hazy brain a few seconds to register what he’s holding in his hand, but when you do, your face falls, and all you can do is let out a pathetic little whimper.

No. 

He wouldn’t…right? 

Oh, who are you kidding, of course he would.

He scoffs at your shocked face as he spreads lube around the silicone fleshlight, taking his time to insert his slick fingers into the tight opening, humming in satisfaction at the sensation.

“Dumb baby,” he coos sardonically. “Did you honestly think I was gonna fuck your loose pussy after I just ruined it with my fist? I wouldn’t feel shit.”

He kneels on the bed before your spread legs again, pumping his cock slowly with his lubed-up hand. Your wide eyes follow his every movement, the desire to feel him deep inside you, to come around his cock, to have him fill you up consuming your entire being.

But you realize that none of that is going to happen. 

Instead, Nathan teases your entrance with the fleshlight, eliciting a low moan from you. He starts pushing it in slowly, only an inch or two at a time, before smoothly withdrawing it again. The sensation is quite nice, like he’s fucking you with a thick dildo, and after having his whole fist inside you, the toy glides in and out of you without much resistance.

Finally, he pushes it in until it’s fully seated inside you, leaving it there to fill you completely.

“That’s much better,” he says with a smirk as he brushes over the silicone clit and further upwards over yours a few times, then lines the tip of his cock up with the silicone lips that are beautifully framed by yours. He slides inside with one smooth thrust, groaning at the delicious feeling of the ribbed texture massaging his length. 

“Fuck me, that feels good,” Nathan moans, his cock twitching inside the fleshlight as he observes your pained expression. “Such a perfect, tight pussy.”

He leans over you, his face hovering above yours, his hands resting on the bed next to your torso.

“Do you feel that, you little slut?” he murmurs as he thrusts his hips, his balls hitting your asshole repeatedly. “Do you feel how I’m fucking this tight pussy, huh?”

When he notices tears welling up in your eyes, he crashes his lips onto yours, his tongue sliding between your lips with a fervent hunger. As you eagerly reciprocate his kiss, moaning into his mouth, you can taste yourself on his lips and beard from when he ate you out earlier, the heady flavor sending your senses reeling.

Breaking the kiss and straightening back up, Nathan firmly holds onto your thighs as he mercilessly fucks the fleshlight. His gaze never wavers as he tells you what a good little sleeve you are for his favorite pussy, how much he enjoys fucking it, or while detailing his plans to use it in your ass so you can cockwarm him all night long.

Every single word that spills from his lips has you dripping and moaning, lost in a whirlwind of desire and submission. There’s something so incredibly humiliating yet undeniably exciting about being taken by him like this. 

You love hearing his groans, you love feeling his possessive grip on your thighs, you love the feeling of his cock slamming into the fleshlight inside you—but at the same time, an increasingly big part of you is struggling with what you know is coming next.

He’s going to have an orgasm and you’re not. It’s your punishment.

The feeling of almost unbearable frustration that you know will well up within you when he fills the silicone pussy with his cum but leaves you aching is something you both crave and dread.

You’ll be all revved up with no possible release, and that’s brutal.

You try to focus on the stimulation you’re getting from the fleshlight moving inside you as Nathan keeps fucking it. And, more importantly, you try your hardest to focus on the pleasure you’re making him feel, rather than getting preoccupied with the fact that you won’t be getting any physical release.

Most of the time when edges you, you don’t have very much trouble with it, but for some reason today, it’s much more difficult for you to handle.

Nathan pulls you out of your thoughts as he moves his hands from your thighs to your tits and starts squeezing them so roughly that it’s painful. You guess that this means he’s about to come—he loves hurting you when he’s close.

Sure enough, a few strokes later he’s coming with a low groan, digging his nails deeply into your tits at the exact moment he shoots his load into the silicone pussy.

He keeps his cock buried deep inside the fleshlight for a few moments, allowing himself to empty his balls completely and catch his breath. Then, he leans back, letting his cock slide out. The sight of his cum dripping out of the fake pussy inside yours is something he wants to treasure forever.

And he can—thanks to the two 4k cameras recording everything that ever happens in his bedroom.

“Relax, baby,” you hear him say before you feel him slowly pull the fleshlight out of you. He lays it down on the towel next to you, then directs his attention to your gaping pussy. Mesmerized, he gently spreads your lips with his thumbs, his soft cock witching at the sight of your abused hole.

While Nathan’s inspecting you closely, like you’re an android he’s trying to perfect, your head is swimming with all the intense emotions you’re feeling—the deep satisfaction and pride at having pleased Nathan by enduring his punishment, the physical pain, your own frustration. 

It’s all completely overwhelming. 

You’re just grateful that, now that it’s over, you’ll have some time to calm down. Right now, you want to come desperately, and it will take you a while to get past that feeling, but you know you’ll be able to manage it eventually.

That’s why you’re so shocked by the sudden sensation of Nathan’s right hand between your legs, rubbing, while his left hand wanders up to your tits, squeezing them alternately. 

You moan and close your eyes, lost in the ecstatic feeling of his touch. He’s drawing tight circles on your clit, knowing exactly how you like to be touched, and it feels incredible.

But only half of your brain is overcome with pleasure. The other half is in full-on panic mode. You already know for a fact he isn’t going to let you come, so this is just another round of torture for his sadistic amusement.

His fingers feel so painfully good on you, far too good. He keeps alternating between squeezing your tits and digging his nails into them with his hand, intensifying the sensation of his fingers rubbing your swollen clit.

With how sensitive you already feel from him eating you out, edging you, fisting you and kind-of-fucking you, it’s only a matter of minutes before you’ll be getting close again.

You’re usually pretty good at coping with the pain of repeated denial, but right now, you feel like your level of frustration goes past your ability to handle it. The thought of reaching the precipice again, getting so close that another second would bring you to the orgasm you want so badly, is just too much to bear.

You can’t do it without losing your mind. There’s no way.

“No, no, no, please, Nathan, I can’t…Not again, please,” you plead, genuine panic evident in your strained voice.

Nathan slows the movement of his fingers on your clit, raising his head to meet your eyes with intense focus.

“Look at me, concentrate on me, baby,” you hear him say in a stern yet calm voice. “Do you trust me?”

You bite your lip hard, close your eyes with a deep exhale, then open them again. “Yes,” you choke out, your throat tight as you struggle to focus on his words. Your heart races, pounding so hard you fear it might burst from your chest.

“Listen to me,” Nathan commands. “I want you to calm down and relax, do you understand?” he asks you.

“Yes,” you reply, your voice strained.

“This isn’t up for debate. I want it, it will please me. You belong to me, your body belongs to me, and I will use it how I see fit. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Nathan,” you repeat weakly.

He returns his attention to your pussy, skillfully stimulating your clit. His eyes never leave yours as he relishes the pained expression on your face. “You’re doing great, baby. Keep breathing and stay focused on me.”

“Uh-huh,” you breathe, involuntarily rocking your hips as Nathan, yet again, brings you closer and closer to your high with every precise movement of his fingers.  

“I’m gonna come soon,” you pant, your voice tinged with hope and desperation, wishing he would relent before it becomes too overwhelming.

“Very good. But I’m not going to stop until you’re right on the edge.”

“Okay,” is all you can get out, resigned to your fate.

It only takes another minute. You feel the orgasm building inside you, right there, ready to wash over you in just another second. You feel a tiny, nagging impulse to lie, to tell him it’s come on so fast you couldn’t stop him in time. But you know if you did that, you’d feel so guilty you wouldn’t even be able to enjoy the orgasm.

So, instead, you yell, “Stop!”

He does, sitting back on his heels, hands off your body. 

You yank at the restraints securing your wrists and legs, writhing and screaming at the torturous feeling of your imminent orgasm being taken from you so cruelly. Your clit burns and pulsates, and your sore pussy clenches around nothing in a vain attempt to bring you to completion.

You take deep breaths, attempting to steady yourself. Your chest is heaving and your body’s trembling uncontrollably. Whimpers and sobs escape you as you bury your face into the pillow, eyes tightly shut. 

Your orgasm was so fucking close, and having it ripped away by a man whose smirk you could see through tear-filled eyes has you ready to punch a wall…or claw his eyes out.

You feel a very unsubmissive urge to tell Nathan he’s a bastard for doing this to you. He knows damn well how hard edging is on you, so why the hell is he putting you through this? Just because you wanted to spend more time with him? It’s not fair.

He’s already untied both of your legs and let them down gently, making sure you slowly stretch them for the first time in over an hour. He kneels beside your torso, releasing you from the cuffs around your right, then your left wrist. He watches your face intently, savoring your tears and the pained sobs escaping your swollen lips.

If you weren’t sore, he’d fuck you right now. You’re so beautiful when you’re hurting.

You turn onto your left side, away from Nathan, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. You’re scared by how angry you are at him and want to feel as small as possible because it makes you feel safe.

Nathan lies on his side behind you, drawing the covers over your trembling body. Propping his head up on his hand, he places his palm on your shoulder, stroking your arm gently. Your muscles tense at his touch, conflicted emotions swirling within.

“You wanna come, baby?” he coos, a hint of sadistic amusement in his voice.

What the fuck do you think?

You don’t say anything, weak sniffles occasionally breaking your silence.

Nathan sighs deeply but decides to let your non-response slide. He’s pushed you a lot today, and as he observes your fragile state, he’s prepared to cut you some slack. 

“Tell me why I’m not letting you.” He puts a soft kiss on your damp shoulder blade, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

“Because my pain makes you happy,” you say, your voice strained.

“Yeah, well, that’s a given,” Nathan says with a hint of amusement. “But seriously, I want you to tell me why I’m not letting you come.”

You’re biting your tongue so hard to refrain from saying something you’ll regret, acutely aware that your frustration is clouding your ability to find the part of your mind where the right answer Nathan’s looking for is located.  

He gives you a moment to gather yourself, confident you’ll be able to overcome your anger.

Eventually, you relent. “I don’t deserve to come because I’m a spoiled brat,” you murmur into your pillow. “I–I lashed out at you today because I felt neglected and that wasn’t the way to go about it. I need to be punished for that and I trust you to make the right decision about what that punishment should look like.”

Nathan listens attentively, his expression softening as he hears your words. “That’s exactly right, baby,” he says gently, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your shoulder blade and neck. “See? Even a dumb little toy like you gets it eventually.”

He sits up, leaning against the headboard. “Come here,” he murmurs, motioning for you to lay on him. Meeting his gaze for a second, you obediently nestle your head on his warm skin, your left arm draped over his torso.

He allows you a moment to calm down, gently scratching your scalp, the rhythmic beat of his heart relaxing you. You savor the fleeting intimacy, fully aware that he’ll soon ask you to leave as he has an important meeting scheduled in half an hour.

Your ears perk up when his low voice breaks the silence, his chest vibrating with each word. “I know edging is hard for you, and I’m glad to hear you understand why things need to be this way. I’m proud of you.”

You nuzzle your head against his chest, an overwhelming feeling of warmth spreading through you. Nathan’s proud of you. No orgasm in the world could ever compare to the feeling of hearing those words from him.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you today,” you murmur.

“Apology accepted,” he says, his tone sincere. “Now, go to the bathroom and take a shower. Dinner’s ready in twenty minutes and I bought that stupid Dune movie you won’t shut up about.”

You lift your head and stare at him in disbelief, convinced that your brain—or Nathan—is playing a trick on you. You’re so confused.

“But what about the meet–”

He raises an eyebrow. “If your ass is not out of this bed in the next ten seconds, I’m tying you up again, and I promise you won’t like what I’ll do to you then.”

You can’t hold back the dopey grin that spreads across your face as you pull back the covers and scurry to the bathroom as fast as your weak legs will allow. 

Nathan watches with an imperceptible smile as your silhouette disappears behind the automatic door.

– – –

Thanks for reading!! 🤍 -> Nathan masterlist || main masterlist

#nathan bateman x f!reader #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman smut #nathan bateman #oscar isaac characters #nathan bateman x you #nathan bateman fanfiction #smut #nathan bateman ex machina #nathan ex machina #nathan bateman fic

[frenchkisstheabyss]

฿ⱠɄɆ ₥Ø₦Đ₳Ɏ

୨୧ Pairing: assassin!soobin x assassin!chubby!fem!reader

୨୧ Genre: crime au/angst/smut

୨୧ Summary: Carrying a hit out on a corrupt politician at the charity event of the year might seem extreme to most women but it's a regular Friday night for you. Things like this should go smoothly, only tonight you're not the only one on the hunt.

Someone's out to get you too. Someone who knows your every move as if they were his own. But can he actually go through with killing you or will feelings from the past cause him to abandon his mission altogether?

୨୧ Word Count: 2.8k

୨୧ Warnings: you're an assassin so, ya know, guns/knives/mentions of assassinations but no actual deaths, fingering, marking, a lil bit of roughness, unprotected sex, for sure praise kink vibes, pet names (baby), and i'm pretty sure that's all.

୨୧ A/N: I'm dedicating this fic to @anyamaris who's honestly the entire reason that I wrote this to begin with. I've never met anyone who cares so deeply about what it is that other people want so here's something that's all about you because you deserve that and so much more. I hope my silly lil angsty assassin low key rom com smut makes you smile 💜

An $11,000 crystal chandelier hangs high above your head, casting a soft copper glow across the dim ballroom. Three others like it are positioned a few feet apart, framing a painting on the ceiling worth more than the four of them combined. No one raises their head to admire the beauty that the mayor’s dirty money went into crafting. They’re too distracted by the action on the floor. Champagne towers, a gorgeous woman singing atop a grand piano, mistresses in tight dresses, and business. Of course, the business. That’s what they’re really here for.

Everyone thinks that last week’s charity ball, full of senators dining with their families and taking photos with less fortunate children, was where the fate of the city was decided. But no, it’s here, in dark corners with men whose faces you’ll never see in the daylight, that corruption thrives and fates are truly decided. It turns your stomach to be here arm in arm with the Chief District Judge, smiling and nodding at every misogynistic comment he makes about the way you look tonight.

He picked it out for you, this curve hugging black dress with a slit high enough to let his mind wander to places you wish it wouldn’t. It makes you wish that he were your target for tonight but, no, instead it’s the senator halfway across the room shaking hands with old friends while his companion gets drunk enough to pretend she’s actually attracted to him. You need to get him alone but the bastard’s never alone. They should’ve just let you snipe him, quick and clean.

Your boss insisted upon something intimate though. Something sure and nothing's surer than confirming a kill with your own two eyes. Studying his movements, you’re caught off guard by a familiar scent. Cologne, powdery with notes of citrus. It brings you back to a time before all of this when you were a petty thief living in your little hole in the wall apartment with—

“Walk away” a passing voice whispers, marrying with the scent of the cologne like two pieces of the same puzzle. “It can’t be” you gasp, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. Turning your head, you catch a glimpse of a ghost from your past shifting through the crowd. Soobin. Tall, handsome, and impossible to take your eyes off of. Your palms begin to sweat, making the neck of the champagne glass slippery in your hand.

“What did you say, dear?” the Chief District Judge asks, placing his hand on yours. You smile, innocently sipping your champagne, “If you’ll excuse me a moment, I need to go to the little girl’s room.” “Oh, of course, but hurry back to me. Wouldn’t want another man to snatch you up now, would I?” “You’re so silly,” you giggle, “I’m all yours.” Sitting your glass down, you summon all of your nerves and make your way toward the stairs that lead to the second floor.

Your date’s gaze is burning through your dress, enjoying the way the fabric moves against your body as you advance the stairs. It’d make you want to crawl out of your skin if your attention wasn’t still glued on Soobin. He watches you from the bar and, even at this distance, you catch yourself drowning in the pools of chestnut he calls eyes. It’s been an eternity since you’ve seen him in a suit, long enough that you’d forgotten how elegant he looks in one.

Your brain’s wracked with questions. What’s he doing here? Is he on the same job? Why’s he telling you to walk away? Making a quick left turn, you dip into the bathroom and rush into one of the stalls to gather yourself. You take a deep breath, peeking beneath the other stalls to be sure you don’t have company. All clear. “Just relax, okay? Don’t let him throw you off your game. You will finish this. Pretend he isn’t even here. He doesn’t even exist.”

The bathroom door swings open, and a pair of black laced Prada Oxfords step inside. “Baby?” Soobin sings, locking the door behind him. Staring straight ahead he sees nothing. Only polished marble sinks and spotless mirrors reflecting a motionless row of stalls. “I know you’re in here,” he says, quietly pushing open the door to the nearest stall. Empty. “So why don’t you just come out?” Kicking off your heels, you retrieve the knife tucked into your garter. At the same time, Soobin slips out the gun hidden beneath his suit jacket.

He pushes open the door to the second stall and the auto sensor flushes the toilet, giving you both a miniature heart attack. Soobin laughs, moving on to the next stall, “And what’s behind door number 3?” The door flies open and out you come, the tip of your blade slicing through the arm of his jacket. Soobin spins you off in the direction of the sink but catches you before your lower back hits the edge. 

“Why do you have a knife?” 

“Why do you have a gun?” 

“That’s fair.” 

Kneeing him in the stomach, you wrap your arm around his and struggle to grab hold of the gun. “Stop it!” he demands, gripping you by the back of your dress and tossing you back into the stall you came out of. Regaining your footing, you move to charge back at him but the barrel of his gun’s already aimed at your kneecaps. “Shit,” you mumble, pissed at yourself for not having moved quicker, “What do you want?”

“Walk away” he answers. The same words he whispered to you moments ago, only there’s a nearly undetectable drop of sadness in them now that he has to face you. You still look like the picture of you he keeps in his phone. A few years older, a few more kills to your name, but a dream to behold nonetheless. 

“You know I can’t do that. I have a job to do.”

“So do I but I don’t wanna do it” he begs, the sadness in his voice growing heavier, “Please don’t make me do it.”

He aims the barrel at your chest and he might as well pull the trigger because the pain that penetrates your heart makes you want to fold over. You’d expected that someday someone would be sent to stop you but him? Being assigned to different agencies had done a lot to tear you apart but your love for him never changed. Maybe you’d been foolish to think that he would feel the same. “Me? You took a job to kill me?”

“I had no choice. It’s nothing personal.” “Nothing personal?” you shout, the hurt quickly turning to anger, “Bullshit. So, if I don’t agree to walk away, you pull the trigger, is that right?” Soobin’s shoulders drop, his head turning away from you, “That’s right.” “Then pull the trigger,” you say, stepping forward so that it’s pressed to your chest. Soobin turns back to you, his face twisted in a scowl, “Don’t say that.” Your heart’s racing a mile a minute and the handle of your blade’s clenched so tightly in your fist that it’s creating an imprint on your palm.

You don’t want to die but if you don’t finish this your boss will kill you anyway. “Pull the trigger” you repeat, searching his eyes for any sign of the man who used to hold you on dark nights when the world felt too scary to face. Soobin was once your protector. He wishes that he still could be. He wants to be. Why’d you have to follow him into this world? He left you behind to give you a chance at something normal with someone normal. Why couldn’t you just walk away? Why can’t you now?

“You’re so damn stubborn,” he groans, fighting his body’s urge to become a jittery mess. You crack a teary eyed smile, “You used to love that about me.” It’s ever present in his mind that if he doesn’t do this he’ll have hell to pay. He can’t just let you go. He can’t but...shit, he has to. He lowers his gun, sliding open the magazine and emptying the bullets onto the floor. Nothing in this world could ever make him hurt you. Anyone else wouldn’t have made it up those stairs alive. You, though, are untouchable.

Soobin walks over to the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. What he’s just done is a death sentence. The price on your head has just transferred onto his. It’s only a matter of hours, two or maybe three, before he’s blacklisted. “Soob,” you say, placing your knife down on the sink, “You still care.” He glances at you in the mirror, amazed at how such an intelligent woman can be this clueless. “I never stopped caring. I don’t think I can. I probably won’t stop loving you until—” You take his hand, stroking his fingers, “Stay with me. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

He gently squeezes your hand, a quiet acknowledgment of your attempt to comfort him. “It’s better for you without me here.” “Just like your note said before” you sigh, pulling your hand back. It’s deja vu. He’s pushing you away like he always has. Last time you fought your hardest to keep him but not this time. “You love me” you scoff, making your way back into the stall to collect your things, “But I’m still not enough for you to stay. Not even when your life depends on it.”

Reaching down to slip one of your heels back on, you feel a set of arms around your waist. They embrace you firmly enough to keep you close and softly enough to communicate that there’s nothing to fear. You turn in time to be kissed with such passion that you forget these are the lips of the man sent to kill you. None of that means anything. You only care that they’re on yours, his hands hungrily gripping at your hips…your thighs…your ass…any part of you he can reach.

There are no fireworks between you. The need that’s built up for you both is too strong to reduce to technicolored sparks in the night sky. This is an atomic bomb. A force strong enough to wreck you and you welcome it with open arms. Soobin can’t steal his mouth away from yours, he’s glued to you. “You’re more than enough” he promises, backing you against the wall, “So much more.” “Then why do you run away?” you ask, tearing his jacket even more as you help him out of it. He lifts your dress, letting his palm skim the lace of your panties. “I’m no good for you.”

Ripping his shirt open, you send buttons clinking to the ground where the bullets lay. You touch his chest and feel his body tense as you tease your way down to his belt. “I never asked you to be good for me. Be bad for me” you whine, squeezing your thighs to get the friction you find yourself growing desperate for. Flipping you around, he slaps your ass just the way you like. You arch your back as his thumb tucks your panties to the side, his middle and pointer fingers pushing into you.

In the quiet of the empty bathroom, all he can hear are your low sweet, moans and the splashing of your juices each time his fingers curl into your core. “You feel so good on my fingers, baby. Just dripping for me” he growls, his other hand coming around your neck to bring you closer to him. Your nails claw at the wall, the feeling of being pressed against it as his fingers fuck deeper into you intense enough to make you want to climb it.

Reaching back, you knot your fingers into his hair, pulling at it each time he hits your sweet spot. “One more” you moan, grinding back against his hand. “One more? You sure you can take it?” You nod, feeling a third finger brush your inner thigh, “I can take it, mmm, oh god.” His third finger slides into you slowly, his wrist rotating to stimulate you from every angle. “That’s it, baby. Take it for me. You like it when I fill you up with my fingers?” “Yes, I…I love it. So good. So—”

The door to the bathroom jiggles and you both freeze completely. At least you do. Soobin’s still except his fingers which remain inside of you, moving at a tortourlsy slow pace. The door jiggles again and there’s the low chattering of a group of women.

“Cut it out. What if they get in?” you whisper, turning to stop him. Soobin smiles down at you, sweeping you into another kiss, “So what if they get in?” Hooking his arms behind your legs, he lifts you off of your feet, the tip of his cock flicking at your clit. Your body shivers, making enough sound to give pause to the women outside. “You’re terrible” you giggle, reaching between you to stroke his length. You lightly trace the head of his cock with your thumb, guiding him closer and closer to your slit.

Soobin lowers his hips, raising them to thrust into you a little at a time until you’re writhing on his cock, too full to know what to do with yourself. Catching you staring up at him, your eyes sparkling like stars, makes the air feel thinner. It’s like he’s somewhere high up, climbing a mountain and losing air the higher he goes but he can’t stop. The way you make him feel, he can’t let go of it. Reaching up to cup his face, you plant kisses on his bare chest, choking back moans. “You’re perfect,” you say, meaning it with all your heart.

Soobin shakes his head, spreading your legs wider, “Not as perfect as you. Never as perfect as you.” The noise outside of the door quiets as the women give up, heading off in search of another bathroom. Soobin wastes no time thrusting into you, gripping your thighs hard enough to mark you. “Fuck, yes, just like that, ah!” Your lids fall closed and maybe Soobin was right, there must be stars in your eyes because they’re all you see in the darkness. “You’re so tight for me. So warm. I want you to cum for me” he whispers, pushing in deeper and holding you there. “Cum for me and don’t hold back.”

Grinding you onto him, he can feel every part of you and you feel every part of him. The twitching of every vein traveling up his length in response to the clenching of your walls. You’re the cutest thing, your body shivering, pillowy tits bouncing, filling the bathroom with incoherent moans. It’s almost as if he has you wrapped around his finger, something like a rubber band, twisted around and around until you’re pushed so far beyond your limits that you’re about to snap. 

“Oh…” is all you get out before you break, grasping at his chest as your senses are overtaken by something too heavenly to fathom. “My little killer” he coos, kissing the last bit of smeared lipstick from your lips, “You’ve always been worth it.” The clock’s ticking on his mission and soon on his life as well. All he wants with whatever precious minutes he has left is to stay in this moment with you but life, as always, has different plans. 

A phone sounds, a wistful ringtone echoing through the bathroom. Opening your eyes, you glance down at the phone peeking out of his jacket pocket. The screen flashes RESTRICTED. “Better get that,” you say, patting him on the arm to let him know it’s okay. Soobin carefully lets your legs down, only reaching for the phone when he’s sure you’re okay. “Hello? Yes. I know, I should’ve reached out sooner. I—” His attention momentarily strays to you gathering bullets from the floor and loading them back into his gun. “Did I handle her? Confirmed. Mission complete.”

Hanging up, he tosses it across the floor and you shoot it. Perfect aim. “They’ll be sending someone to confirm the kill soon,” he says, readjusting his pants to make himself decent, “We should get going.” “We?” you ask, checking to make sure you heard him right. Bundling your things up in his jacket, he approaches you much too happily for such a dire situation. “Yes, we, if you’ll have me.”

You take your heels from him, throwing them back on. “Of course, I will. Just one thing, point another gun at me and I’ll kill you.” Throwing your purse over your shoulder you float over to the bathroom door, still high off of your orgasm, and unlock it. Soobin trails behind you, content to do so for the rest of his life, “Point gun. Die. Noted.”

#soobin x reader #soobin x you #soobin angst #soobin smut #txt angst #txt x you #txt x reader #txt au #txt smut #chubby reader #plus size reader

[autisticlancemcclain]

Beast.

That’s how everyone describes him. Town to town, village to village, whispered voices describing Prince Keith’s roaring temper and snarling fury. The manners of a lone wolf and attitude of an angry grizzly bear, those are the rumours. He’s vile, he’s mean, he’s ugly and horrible and rude.

And Lance is supposedly engaged to the asshole.

To be wed.

Is this really what he has to look forward to, in life? Trading himself away for his future husband's riches, essentially? A life of luxury and opulence in exchange for his soul? He might as well make a deal with the devil. He might be able to stay at home, then.

“We’re here,” Marco says softly. He pulls on the reins, stopping Blue – the McClain's horse – in front of the impossibly tall iron gates. He swings off the saddle, landing soundly on his feet before reaching up a hand to help Lance.

Lance snarls at him, heaving himself off himself and stepping away from his brother, busying himself with stroking Blue’s broad, soft nose.

“Lance,” Marco tries, sighing heavily. “C’mon. I know it’s not…ideal, but it’s a castle, right? I know you’ve always wanted to live in a castle.”

Lance grits his teeth, keeping his back to his brother. Rage makes his hands shake and clench where they’re wrapped around Blue’s mane, so he forces himself to relax.

“You don’t know anything about what I want. None of you do. None of you care enough to know.”

“Lance, stop it. You have to know that none of us wanted this –”

“There are four things I know, brother,” Lance spits, finally turning to face him. Marco starts at the anger in Lance’s expression, the vitriol in his tone. Lance stalks forward, and Marco takes a small step back on reflex. “I know that the town gathered to choose one young person to be engaged to the prince, as is custom.”

He takes another step, but this time Marco stays where he is.

“I know that every single person in the town, man and woman and child, made their vote.”

He takes one final step, milimeters between him and his brother, jabbing his finger into his chest. Marco remains where he stands, face stony.

“I know that there are nine other people besides me in my family. And I know that there were only three people in the entire village who didn’t vote for me.”

Finally his face crumples, anger finally giving way to the pain churning in his chest.

“I know that six of you at least decided I wasn’t worth keeping. And for that, you’re all dead to me.”

Marco says nothing. His face remains impassive, not even a glint of sympathy or even pity in his eyes. Nothing but stoicism. Lance thinks of how his mother had already had a bag packed for him when the results of the lottery were made public, how she wouldn’t look him in the eyes. How his father wasn’t even home to see him off. How he wasn’t allowed to see his niece and nephew one final time. How he heard his siblings arguing over who would have to escort him to the castle, how Marco had drawn the short straw.

His heart hardens in his chest. He averts his eyes, wiping his cheeks. He’s only embarrassing himself.

Lance wraps his hands around Blue’s reigns and guides her to the gates with him. “I’m taking Blue.”

“Wait, Lance, you can’t –”

Fitting, that Marco speaks now.

“Consider it my dowry,” Lance snaps, and slams the gate behind him.

He ignores Marco’s calling, taking the first turn he sees on the cobblestone paths to finally duck out of his brother’s sights. Marco won’t follow him past the castle’s gate, anyway, but he’ll give up faster if he can’t see Lance, and Lance is tired of hearing him. He deserves the walk home, anyway. Lance hopes it takes him a couple days. Maybe he’ll send Blue back when he’s in a better mood.

If he’s ever in a better mood. Seeing that he’s basically locked into a fancy prison for the rest of time, now.

“C’mon, Blue,” Lance mutters, tugging her along. She noses gently at the back of his neck, but trots along happily. “Let’s find you a stable or something, huh? I’m sure a fuckin’ stone from the ground of this place is worth the entire town. If they don’t have a stable, I'm rioting.”

Lance keeps grumbling as he guides Blue along random paths, stumbling over poorly-kept paths overgrown with roots and vines. “Some place this is, huh, Blue? Our cluttered kitchen is more organised than this place. What kind of rich asshole prince doesn’t pay a groundskeeper, or something? Weirdo.”

Blue neighs at him, looking at him in a way that’s almost chastising, if a damn horse can look chastising.

“I’m allowed to call him names! He’s basically forcing me to marry him because he’s too horrible for anyone to fall in love naturally!”

At another one of Blue’s looks, Lance huffs, kicking a random rock off into the distance. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ll be nice. But, like, proportionally. I’m not going to kiss his royal ass, or anything. I’ll just refrain from kicking him when I’m so inclined.”

This time Blue’s whinny is almost amused.

Lance maybe needs to see if there’s someone his age around here to make friends with, or something. He’s going batty if his only friend’s a damn horse.

“Oh, hey, that looks like a stable. No other horses, though. And how old is that hay?” Lance pokes at the pile, which disintegrates to nothing at his touch. “Well, that’s not very welcoming. What kind of castle can’t afford some decent hay?” He guides Blue gently into one of the admittedly spacious stable stalls, carefully untying her saddle and harness and hanging it on the wall. He guides her head into a thankfully full water trough, and then sets off in search of some food for her. He hums quietly as he peeks his head in each of the other stalls, then steps outside of the stable. “There’s gotta be something somewhere.”

But there really isn’t. Lance must look for twenty minutes before he finally gets frustrated, stomping back to Blue’s stall with his hands on his hips.

“This stupid place is barren,” he tells her. She lifts her head from the water for a moment to neigh softly at him, nudging him gently. He presses a kiss in between her eyes, then pats her on the side before stepping to the side. “I’ll find you something, though,” he assures. “I’ll be back in a bit, okay? I’m gonna poke around ‘til I find somebody.”

He takes his time strolling around the castle grounds, whistling to himself and poking through every door he finds. He finds several garden sheds full of old, rusty tools, and several gardens that are completely overgrown with weeds. Every window he looks through is so caked with dust and cobwebs that he can barely make out anything. Every side door has a lock that’s completely rusted shut.

“Am I in the wrong castle, or something?” he mutters to himself. All earlier feelings have completely faded in favour of confusion. He may not know much about princes and royalty and riches, or whatever, but he’s relatively certain that most castles don’t look so…run down. Tired. Old.

Abandoned.

Finally he makes his way around to what must be the front entrance, with doors several dozen times the size of him. He runs his fingers over the grain of the wood, feeling a surface much rougher than he expected, like wood that hasn’t been oiled in years. Several rose briars grow across the door, holding it shut. Lance has to jog back to one of the garden sheds and use a dull pair of garden shears to hack them away. (He feels bad for destroying such beautiful plants, but decides he’ll save the buds and make a flower crown for Blue later. She looks adorable in pink, so she’ll look like a horse fit for a prince once Lance has finished braiding the roses into her mane.)

He’s expecting the door to be jammed shut, like all the others he tried, so he gives it a very hefty shove to try to encourage it to open.

And then lands on his ass with a yelp when the door opens easily.

“I love my life,” he announces to no one but the dank, dark entryway. “It is so wonderful here. First I get married off to some rando without any input, and then this entire stupid castle exists. If one more bad thing happens to me I am going to simply cry until I dry out like a salami, and then I shall allow myself to be eaten by crows.”

Lance swears he hears a muffled giggle.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

No response.

“Okay, I’m a little kooky, but definitely not so much that I’m imagining people laughing at my truly excellent jokes. I won’t bite, you know. And I promise I’m very charming and only a little miserable about my situation.”

There’s another giggle. He’s sure of it, this time. He tries to follow the sound, but it doesn’t really get him anywhere, because this stupid castle apparently decided to splurge on the creepy and imposing factor and skimp on all the lighting. He stumbles forward, hands outstretched, seeing if he can find an oil lamp or something. Hell, even a stick he can light with the scattered matches he has in his bag. He finally finds what feels like a table of some sort, and runs his fingers over it – grimacing at the thick layer of dust – until he finds what he thinks is a candelabra, which is hilarious. The place can’t afford a rag to wipe off the surfaces, but it can afford a real-life candelabra.

“I hate rich people,” Lance says mildly, striking the match on the rough door and lighting the three half-melted candles.

“Careful with that match, kiddo. This place is really flammable.”

Lance shrieks, throwing the candelabra – the living candelabra! The talking candelabra! What the fresh fuck! – to the ground and scrambling backwards. The candelabra clatters to the ground with a curse – what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck – rolling a couple feet before straightening itself out and bending its arms to its centre as a man might bend his arms to put at his waist.

The candelabra has a face, in the wax.

“What the fuck is going on,” Lance whimpers. The candelabra’s face seems to soften. Lance fights back hysterical laughter at his own mental pun, even though it’s objectively hilarious. It’s not the time. Now is the time to freak the fuck out.

“Hey, hey, take a breather,” the candelabra says. It has a deep, smooth voice, that makes Lance think of those shiny knights in the stories his Abuela used to tell him.

“You are a talking candle,” Lance responds.

The candelabra huffs. (Can the candelabra huff? Does the candelabra have lungs to huff, or is it just an attitude thing? Did Lance hit his head on the way to the castle ground, and is now dreaming?)

“My name is Shiro,” the candelabra says. He smiles softly. “You must be the fiancé.”

Lance decides, right in this moment, that he’s just going to accept his weird delusions until he wakes up. It can’t hurt, right? Nothing can be worse than being married off to Some Guy, prince or no.

“That would be me,” Lance says, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of his tone. “Mail-order bride, at your service.” Shiro makes a face, wax eyebrows furrowing, so Lance decides to take pity on him. “Yes, I’m the fiancé. My name is Lance.”

“It’s good to meet you, Lance.” Shiro blows out the candle on one of his arms and holds it out. Lance shakes it, wary of the hot wax. It’s not Shiro’s fault Lance is in this garbage situation. “I’m sorry there was no one here to greet you. Over the years we’ve gotten a little…lax, in our hospitality.”

“That would explain the general air of despair and misery.”

Shiro laughs again, brightly and fully. “You’re a witty one, aren’t you?”

“So I’ve been told. My suitors lined up along the block, you know. I’m sure Prince Keith had to fight them off with his bare hands. Shame he ditched before we could be properly acquainted. I suppose we have the rest of our lives to get to know each other.”

“I’m sure it’s not proper for me to laugh at jokes at the expense of my Prince,” Shiro says, in a way that tells Lance he is holding back giggles.

Lance is very proud of himself. He may never be the smartest or strongest person in the room, but he’ll be damned if he’s not the funniest.

“I’ll wear you down eventually,” Lance says, waving a dismissive hand. “Now, do I get to meet the coathanger butler and duster french maid, or are you the only talking furniture?”

———

next chapter

#i am SO proud of this one i am literally so funny #also i’ve been wanting to write a klance beauty and the beast au for AGES #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #klance #pre klance #shiro #takashi shirogane #shiro & lance #lance & marco #alternate universe #beauty and the beast #my writing #arranged marriage #langst #lance angst #autistic lance #fic #longpost

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 8

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

After The War I Went Back To New York by @buoyantsaturn

now that everyone else has written their three-days fics heres mine

first of all -- hamilton title. giggle was giggled. second of all, will being soft on nico day ONE and nico noticing immediately is so so real. fave solangelo dynamic of all time. this is lichrally one of my top five three days fics bc its such a CLASSIC

2. Bones by @buoyantsaturn

“Did you just throw a handful of bones outside?” she asked carefully. “Yes,” Will answered immediately. “Why was there a pile of bones in here in the first place?”

will being super excited over nico's powers >>>>>> literally EVERYTHING else bc he is a huge massive nerd!!! and will's powers are SO SO SO cool!! and theyre basically the same coin anyway. what is necromancy if not healing magic but goth

3. Sunshine and Daisies by @buoyantsaturn

Whenever Will needed a break from studying, or had spare time between classes, he liked to walk around the city, wandering into random shops and looking around for a little while.

Will wanders into the di Angelo siblings' flower shop.

flower shop fics have a little je ne sais quoi, and oumph, if you will,,, they’re irresistible. also. ALIVE BIANCA???? its nearly impossible to do in canonverse but in au....i do adore. she does indeed deserve to be around to tease the shit out of her dweeb brother. it is ever so lovely to see.

4. Two Minutes for Hooking by @buoyantsaturn

He blinked his eyes open, glaring up at Will. “Who the hell are you?” “I’m the medic you’ve been avoiding every practice,” Will answered. “Who the hell are you?”

I LOVE THIS AU. i think its my fave buoyantsaturn fic tbh. like not to reinforce canadian stereotypes or anything but hockey aus are the BOMB, and short king hockey player nico x absolutely takes no shit will??? immaculate vibes. i adore. i adore so so much. i have literally read this series so often that im reasonably certain i could recite the first 500 words from memory

5. Hey There, Darlin' by @buoyantsaturn

Will was pretty, and Nico was angry about it. He knew he shouldn’t have come here. He knew he should’ve just gone back to his cabin and stayed there until breakfast the next day, but no. He saw a cute boy and had to go after him. Of course he did. And then Will had to act like Nico was some kind of savior during the wars, and he smiled at him. That smile alone was enough to make Nico realize that this trip was a mistake.

first of all -- #everything is the same except will is the epitome and they dont meet until now is THEE most intriguing tag maybe ever, i needed to read no more. second of all -- whipped nico. god hes my favourite. third of all the big house scene made me GIGGLE it was so fun and silly. adore.

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

#this turned out to be an ode to buoyantsaturn i didnt mean for it to be #that was just what came up in my bookmarks #but me from three years ago was so so correct. cj ily ur the absolute coolest #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace #nico di angelo/will solace #nico/will #will/nico #hockey player nico #flower shop au #fic rec #fic rec friday #longpost #NOT LATE BY ONE MINUTE HUZZAH

[medusas-musings]

YOUR BRIAN QUINN X READER ONESHOT WAS SO GOOD, HELLO?? Anyways, I was wondering if it was possibly to do a Q x Gender Neutral reader? Nothing fancy but maybe and established relationship and some fluff y'know?

THANK YOU????? OMG?????????? Anyway I think I'm gonna try to write in a more Gender Neutral friendly way anyway for one shots, everyone deserves to fantasize about their celebrity crushes <3 Hope y'all enjoy!!

Movie Night (Brian “Q” Quinn x GN!Reader)

Summary: Q is late from filming. Again. But you could never stay mad at him, it's almost impossible. Slight angst-ish??? But overall fluff!

As I finish washing the dishes, I can't help but shut the door to the dishwasher with a swift thud, causing some of the dishes inside to rattle. My lungs fill slowly then release the air in huff as I look at the clock to the microwave: 11:23 pm. I can feel my heart drop with every minute that passes across the face of every clock in our house. Q was late, again. But this time, it hurt just a little bit more.For the past month, Brian’s been staying later on set, whether it was to catch up on busy work or to simply squeeze in some quality time with his friends. At first, I really didn’t mind; I knew what I signed up for when it came to dating someone who has their own tv show. However, one hour late becomes three hours late and I end up waiting by the phone in bed for a “coming home” text from him. He still cares, I know that at least. There’s been a lot of morning coffee talks about my feelings and I know he had his full attention on me and my new worries. He suggested that the next night he’ll get home as soon as he can and we can have a cozy movie night in. It was such a simple idea but I couldn’t help but feel a comfort wash over me. I had set up our living room with warm blankets, lavender scented candles and popcorn that’s lost its heat. The screen of our TV was on a selection of movies I picked out for the night, but it’s been replaced with the scrolling Roku cityscape. Now as I find myself trying to distract myself with any busy work in the house, the soft fuzzies I had for this plan have been replaced with anger. Before I was about to pull out a broom from our pantry to start sweeping, I heard the locks of the door move around. Most days this was music to my ears but right now it was nails on a chalkboard. I wait for the door to open then close behind him; I don’t need the neighbors to hear me chew this man out. “You are…” I glance at the clock on the microwave again and do some mental math before continuing my sentence. “Three hours and 30 minutes late, give or take.” I inform him, my voice calm but laced with ice. I close the door to the pantry and start to walk toward the entryway, my tone shifting to release the pent up frustration from the hours. “Really, Brian, I get you work hard and can’t always text me but you can’t-”

As I turn the corner to look at him, the first thing that catches my eyes are the flowers. They’re classic roses, a flower I enjoy because it’s safe for our cats. The next thing I see is the plastic bag in his other hand, stacks of styrofoam boxes inside. I recognized the smell instantly as one of my favorites from a local restaurant nearby Q and I had our first date at. There was a second bag, this one from the grocery store down the street; I could see from the top of it a bag of one of my favorite sweets and a pint of ice cream clinging to the bottom of the bag. Brian’s face is what I noticed last, and it nearly broke my heart. His eyebrows were together and his eyes filled with anxiety. The confidence he usually carries about him is dissipated, as if it was gone for the season. I didn’t want to immediately forgive him, but seeing him so worried about receiving my disapproval almost made all of my anger vanish.

“Baby, I know.” Q finally manages to find his words. “I’m late, but I promise I didn’t mean it. I really wanted to get home on time but the producers were up my ass about some final details for the season.” He walks towards me, as if he’s holding out his hand to pet a snarling dog. I didn’t let my expression soften yet; I wanted to see just how much he was willing to put into this little apology.“You couldn’t call?” I ask, finding an excuse to let my anger be for more than nothing for a second longer. My eyes try to stay off the gifts, not wanting to put my guard down just yet. “I wanted to, I promise. But once I realized I was still there at 9 I couldn’t think of anything but rushing around to get ya all this.” His broad shoulders raise, motioning to everything in his arms. I can’t help but imagine myself there instead. “I guess trying to make it up to you worsened the damage, I’m sorry. He notices me looking at the ground, avoiding his eye contact. His confidence was returning; he knew I didn’t want to be mad at him, and he knew exactly how to fix it. He gently lays the bags onto the ground and walks over to me, placing the bouquet onto the end table next to us. His arms now vacant, Q’s places his hands onto my cheeks, gently tilting my head up to meet his. His eyes had that special glimmer of softness to them, one I’ve only noticed when he looks at me. I pursed my lips slightly, trying to keep a serious nature to my face, but the mask was slipping. And he knows it. A small smirk creeps up onto his face, his facial hair framing his smile perfectly. At times like this, I hated how gorgeous his eyes were. “I’ll let you pick the movie.” he teases, his lips forming a real smile. I can’t fight the gentle smile that appears on my face as he leans down to give me a gentle kiss onto my forehead. My hands snake their way around Q’s waist and I tilt my head up to place a chaste kiss onto Q’s cheek, a white flag in this battle that’s only transpired in my head. “You’re too good at diffusing my anger, you know that?” I ask, moving one of my hands to his face, the fuzz of his beard scraping against my palm. He smiles back at me. “I hate seeing you angry with me, Sweetheart, I gotta do what I can to fix it.” He breaks away from our embrace and grabs the bags he carried into our home. “Look, you go relax in our living room that you worked so hard to make all cozy and I’ll get these roses in a vase for you and get our dinner situated, don’t you do another chore, baby!” I smile at him walking to our couch and sit down, getting myself comfortable with the blankets and pillows. I watch as Q puts the ice cream away and fills a vase with water, looking at his phone from time to time about how to properly prepare flowers for a vase. Watching him try so hard to salvage this night made every angry thought I had 30 minutes ago seem so irrational. I wondered how I could ever be angry at the man who fills my heart with so much adoration and makes my world more colorful. In about 5 minutes, he shuffles into our living room area placing down the containers of our dinner onto the glass coffee table and lays a couple bags of snacks on the floor by our feet. From muscle memory, I cuddle into him putting my head onto his chest and then feel his arm wrap around my shoulders. He gives me a kiss on the top of my head as I take in his scent and I couldn’t describe it as any more than just “home”.

At this moment, I understand now that I wasn’t mad at Q, I was really having withdrawal symptoms of him. Getting my fix of my beloved set everything right in my world, and it felt as if anger wasn’t a feeling, but a distant memory.

#impractical jokers #impractical jokers fanfiction #brian quinn x you #brian quinn #Q Impractical Jokers #brian quinn x reader #brian q quinn #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

[m1d-45]

GASP I had another idea. What if, since Xiao now knows who the real Creator is, he prays the them and not the faker on the throne? And when he next visits the creator as a bird, they are excitedly showing him a new bit of power they suddenly got, not knowing that it was his own faith that restored a bit of their glory??? -sibling anon, who is just vibing with this idea like it's a rubix cube

combined this ask w your other one, and sorry this is kinda late/reads weird. been busy and i am tired 👍

word count: 723

xiao knows the one on the throne isn’t his god, and his curiosity about you has turned into conviction.

you’re his creator. you have to be.

you’re soft where they’re harsh, you gently pet his feathers where they snap out orders. he knows he’s only one against many, he knows he doesn’t stand a chance and giving you the worship and praise you deserve, but… he tries.

he’s forfeited all but basic politeness to the fraud, limiting his interactions with them and instead spending his time with you. he spends more time in his bird form than human, at this point, curled into your side as you wander liyue. he takes patrols where you are to keep the others away from you, always ‘just missing’ wherever you are. sometimes he brings you things in return for your eternal kindness, hiding things as a human to lead you to them as a bird.

your bird. your little songbird, perched on your finger as you flip over the coin of mora he brought you with a smile. perhaps he should be ashamed, that an adeptus such as him is reduced to eating from another’s palm, but he’s not. not when it’s you. not when he finds your image the one in his mind when he’s in danger, not when he finds himself defending liyue in your name, not when he makes offerings to you instead of the fraud.

your little bird, your xiao. he knows he can’t do enough on his own, he knows that his small acts of protection aren’t nearly what you deserve, but…

as he flies across liyue, a coin of mora clutched in his claws, he hopes that it will help you in places he can’t.

he lets out a call when he spots you walking between the trees, tucking into a dive. you turn, the same smile on your face as every time that you see him, and he lands in your hand, the coolness of the coin contrasting with the warmth from your hand.

“little friend! welcome back, pretty bird.”

he chirps back at you, settling in the curve of your hand as you pick up the coin he brought you. however, instead of telling him about your day, or continuing on your walk, you reached for the branch of a nearby berry bush—thankfully, one that was edible, though you didn’t go for the fully grown ones instead, you pulled off a small part of a branch with a flowering bud on it.

“look, i learned how to do something new today!”

he chirped, moving closer to your wrist to watch your actions. you held the branch between two of your fingers and carefully brushed over the flower, something green sparking under the pad of your thumb. as he watched, the small bud bloomed, a bright red berry sprouting at impossible speeds.

something like a yelp left him in surprise, his wings puffing up as he tried to make sense of it, and your attention quickly shifted from the branch.

you moved him up and cooed nothing at him, unaware of how far xiao’s mind was from the situation.

you had made the plant bloom. dendro had answered your call, when he knew for certain that nothing had bent to your will when he’d first found you.

he knew being near you was calming—it was why you were constantly surrounded by birds and butterflies, it was how he was clued in to your divinity, at first. the way his karma seemed to settle and fade- even now, his shock washing away under your touch over his wings.

something featherlight pressed to the top of his head and he blinked himself from his thoughts, looking up to see you pulling away.

you don’t say a word, carefully plucking the berry from its stem with one hand. in your other, xiao is frozen again, this time for an entirely different reason. his forehead is alight, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, the problem of your blossoming godhood pushed aside and buried.

you put the fresh berry in your other hand, in front of xiao, and he dipped his head to nip at it.

blessed is he who partakes in the divine.

#m1d : [chats] #m1d : [secrets] #sibling anon #bird!xiao shenanigans #the line on my ‘non-writing related asks’ tag is REALLY BLURRING #also yeah um. it’s big delay between posts time again 👍 #been busy been tired used all my brain juice in dms and these bird xiao snippets #wait. dms. shit.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Angel of My Dreams.

PAIRING: Chubby!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,410.

SUMMARY: Aegon ii finds himself doubting his worthiness for your love and devotion, and yet you prove him otherwise. 

WARNINGS: fatphiobic comments, low self-esteem, degradation, swearing, angst, fluff.

A/N - surely you knew this was coming lmao, I am obsessed and will die by the hill that chubby!aegon is in fact real. Siri play SZA Big Boyyyy. p.s let’s just pretend they’re all one big happy fam, and that Aegon ii is the one to inherit the throne. 

Aegon, your dearest beloved, was perfection in your eyes. You’d both grown acquainted with one another mutually, and shared a mutual fondness and understanding with one another. Despite Aegon’s status in the realm, he was very much to himself, and unfortunately was known for having a notorious reputation amongst the ladies of the realm. What you’d heard through whispers and gossip, you found skeptical to believe, as Aegon showed a side to himself that you believed no other being saw. He was quite shy upon talking to you, after building the courage to introduce himself, and realising how warm you were, he opened up to you naturally. 

You’d come to realise, that was never an easy case for Aegon. The expectations not only his family, however the entirety of the realm held on him was beyond fair. From the moment of his birth to the man he'd become today, he was criticised for absolutely everything, down to the last minute thing. Much to your dismay, even his appearance. 

Most people had widely disapproved of how Aegon would present himself. Many agreed, that looking at Aegon’s physicality, no one would believe he'd be fit nor considered suitable to reign as King. Especially, when his younger brother, Aemond, had proved otherwise. When comparing the two sons, Aemond was favoured by the council. 

Regardless, most of the time, comments like this often encouraged Aegon to look how he did. 

“People have convinced themselves already that I am incompetent, why the need to disprove their claims?” He would succumb to. It took you what felt like a lifetime, for him to fight this battle, and yet you did the impossible.

For this, his mother, Alicent had noticed and took a great appreciation for your achievement. 

Before you'd met Aegon, he sought and often bought the lust and attention from elsewhere, a frequenter to the Streets of Silk and the brothel houses that established themselves in the region. Much to your satisfaction, your existence also put an end to these needless trips. 

Aegon would always exclaim how lucky he was to have found you, the angel of my dreams, he'd whisper into your ear late at night, as you wandered off to sleep in his strong, soft arms. He was aware of the terrible things he’d succumbed to since his youth, and having met you, you were the awakening of his regret. 

“I do not deserve you, not in the slightest, but the Gods work in mysterious ways,” Aegon would proclaim. 

And no matter the countless of times, you’d try to persuade him otherwise, that he saved you, it did not matter. His thoughts were set in stone, for he succumbed to pessimism since he could understand the meaning of words, as he was moulded to be the ‘perfect king’. 

It was impossible, you’d believed. For everyone had flaws, you knew this and yet so much weighed on his shoulders regardless. 

During the initial stages of your relationship with Aegon, he was weary of the nature of your affections. He struggled to decipher himself if they were genuine or had some hidden agenda, although you asked nothing of him ever. When he’d confront you of your love and intention with him, many a times you threatened to leave him if that's what it took, to the point where he stopped. At one point you held a grudge and offered silence, in return he followed you around every where pleading for forgiveness, as means to show that you did not care for any prize being with Aegon... Only that the love you as you did him.

In comparison, you’d questioned whether he merely saw you as a faint object of sex, not wanting anymore than a night of pleasure at his beckoning call. 

It was hard to believe, the future King of Westeros would want you, and yet here you laid by his side from night to night, in return he never left nor neglected you. 

Although, people allowed for their imagination to roam free, and had their own narratives created in their fickle minds of your relationship. 

“Mayhaps the young prince has impregnanted her, trapped her with his godforsaken child. Gods be good, they spare us from another Aegon. Terrible, he did not inherit the good qualities of his predecessor who bears the same name.” 

“It seems most likely, he has forced the poor girl’s hand in marriage, having taken her maidenhood without proper practice.” 

Regardless, of the gossip whispered, the most agonising of it all, was how many commented how ill it seemed that a beauty such as yourself be seen with Aegon.

Over the years, Aegon much like his father to his resentment, was a larger man. Growing up spoilt and royal, he was offered the finest delicacies across the 7 Kingdoms, and he found indulgence as an escape. He had a terrible habit of being gluttonous with most things, whether it be food, wine or women, from his previous bachelor days. These habits had been hard to overcome, before he had stumbled upon the gratifying reason of you. 

He found that, during the relentless and agonising dinners and feasts held, eating kept him busy, avoiding conversing with others both strange and familiar. Growing from child to a boy to now a young man, it was inevitable that his appetite grew to accustom his natural development. 

Much to his distaste, he would continue to combat train, and much preferred riding Sunfyre for he was in his own company (still persistent in convincing you to join him), he remained fit and strong. Although, his edges were soft and tender, and you did not mind it one bit. It never even occurred to you, that there would be any matter in question, regarding how you both appeared to the general public. Their opinions meant absolutely nothing to you, and you remained ignorant to it all, although Aegon struggled as he always did. He was only ever accustomed to hearing criticism and scrutiny, and struggled to block it. 

He had a subtle double chin that you would adorn with kisses, his arms muscular although hidden beneath a layer of fat, and his stomach plump and stout, protruded just a generous amount over the waistline, it was evident beneath his clothes. Although your favourite, was his legs, in particular his thighs. The way he'd prop you up, cradling you as you sat atop his solid build, his appearance was never questioned by you, and he knew that, no matter how much he’d deny it. 

And yet, he found himself the hot topic of countless, discrete conversations, especially with the young knights and men of the realm. Many found your warmth and welcome compelling, and became infatuated with your beauty. You had gentle, soft features, your mother a renowned beauty herself in her youth, many found it no doubt you inherited her vision. 

“I bet he’s somehow forced her into this godforsaken union. Needs a knight in shining armour to save her from that horrid, drunk beast.” 

“He doesn't even try to stop himself nor fix his pathetic ways, have you seen the way he gorges himself? The poor girl must suffocate with him.”

“Mayhaps Y/N is smarter than we think, and is not actually in love with Aegon, for who could love a fat bastard like him, and to think in a few years he’ll be King.”

It infuriated him hearing such words, words from some men he’d thought he could entrust as friends. Once they'd come face to face, they would act as though no dishonesty was committed. 

Treason, Aegon thought to himself. He'd made mental note of it all, and knew when the time was right, justice would be served by his own wroth. 

Often at times, as means to retaliate, he’d appear with you publicly, whether it was kissing you in public, or merely holding hands, or insisting you feed him grapes or cakes to him as you sat ontop, he relished the bitter looks on their smug faces. 

Ever since Aegon had met you, his confidence had grown, and he was eternally thankful. You’d become such a light for him, that he saw himself in a manner, most people denied him.

“You, you my sweet girl-”

Aegon would softly whisper, as he embraced you tightly in his large, tender arms, before releasing you. His hand reaching over to your face, placing a misplaced strand behind your ear, his thumb then gently tracing your lips. 

“You are everything to me, I love you.”

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon ii targaryen fluff #aegon ii x reader #chubby!aegon ii targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd imagines #aemond targaryen #chubby!Aegon ii #alicent hightower

[phoen1xr0se]

Ch 32 of Don't Fall Away From Me is up on AO3! (M)

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜

Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale resolve to help Beelzebub with the Gabriel problem, and rally the angels and demons to return to Earth. There's just one small demon-shaped problem standing between them and their best laid plans...

Art credit: @wisesnail

Excerpt from chapter 32 below:

Suddenly, Beelzebub’s laughter rang out through the cavern, slicing through the tense moment, and Crowley looked over to see them doubled over, laughing so hard it looked like it hurt.

Catching Crowley’s eye, they straightened up, wiping a tear from one eye. “Have you heard what they’re saying about you, Crowley?” Beelzebub wheezed.

Crowley glanced at the group Beelzebub had been speaking with – several of the angels were pink-cheeked beneath his stare. “What?”

“That you’re – you’re – some kind of hero,” gasped Beelzebub, squeezing the words out between guffaws. “A kind, sweet demon with a truly tragic story, a demon who never deserved to Fall… a demon who is, apparently, going to lead all the angels in a rebellion against the Metatron and return Heaven to… to God!”

Beelzebub lost it again, dissolving into laughter.

Crowley stared.

This made absolutely no sense – except… well, it would explain why all the angels kept staring at him like that. Why they whispered to each other every time he did literally anything.

He turned to Aziraphale, only to see the angel staring at him with that face, the face that had gotten him into so much trouble back in 1941 and was still getting him into trouble now; the soft, doe-eyed look of someone who was gazing upon something impossibly wonderful. But it was Crowley he was staring at.

Crowley shook his head – he was going to have to side with Beelzebub on this one.

This was ridiculous.

“I-I’m not… a hero. I’m not anything,” he stammered, realising as he spoke just quite how preposterous this situation was, and wondering dimly how on Earth he’d ended up here. “I’m just really, really bad at being a demon. But I can’t say I was much good at being an angel, either. I’m just… just…”

“Brave?”

The voice came from somewhere within the crowd. Crowley couldn’t find the source, but shook his head in that vague direction. “No, not brave, definitely not brave, not at all, I run away all the time…”

“But I heard you rescued Aziraphale from Nazis…” He still couldn’t see where the voice was coming from.

“In a church, wasn’t it?” Or that one.

“What, on consecrated ground?!” Beelzebub chimed in incredulously.

Crowley stared, speechless for a moment.

“Look, I… I don’t know where you’ve got this idea…” Crowley was suddenly desperate to make them all see the truth, because if they didn’t, it was only a matter of time before they worked it out for themselves, saw how utterly useless and worthless he truly was. “But I swear, I…”

“And he stopped the Antichrist!”

“Took a bath in Holy Water!”

“Er – about that…” began Crowley, but the voices kept coming.

“He saved kids from drowning in the great flood!”

“He feeds ducks!”

“He loves Aziraphale!”

Crowley’s face was burning now, so warm he was surprised his entire face hadn’t exploded into flame. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at Aziraphale, because yes, of course he fucking loved Aziraphale, but he’d never actually said it.

Not to him, anyway.

.

#good omens #azicrow #aziracrow fanfic #good omens fanfic #dont fall away from me #phoenixrose314 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens 2 #good omens fandom #michael sheen #david tennant #good omens fanfic rec #good omens fanfiction #ao3 good omens #good omens ao3 #ao3 feed #ao3 writer #soft crowley #crowley angst #bamf aziraphale #beelzebub

[alastoridiot-meta]

I CANNOT let this continue to be the false narrative throughout the fandom so let’s just talk about Alastor and whether he will be redeemed.

The simple answer I have to this is… absolutely. Like what do you think the message of this show IS.

Alastor is a charming and likable character. He’s edgy and soft and rigid in all the right ways for fandom to take and hold onto him. Viv has said before, along with what is shown in the show, that he tends to have a weird and sort of warped morality.

On one hand, he has no problem threatening Husk, torturing overlords, and overall being a nuisance to every powerful male character that he comes in contact with.

But on the other hand, he believes in being able to control YOUR OWN fate, as said in his fight with Adam “you should know more than anyone what a soul can do when they take charge of their own fate”, implying control over one’s personhood, destiny, and general LIFE. In fact, it’s this sentence that just speaks to so many of Alastor’s true ideals in consent and soul contracts. Like yes he owns huskers soul and maybe nifty’s, but husk only furthers my own agenda of “Alastor targets people with power”, for one reason or another, those people are overlords. HE EVEN IMPLIES IN STAYED GONE THAT HIS TRUE INTENTIONS ARE DISTURBING SYSTEMS OF POWER, GOING AGAINST THE STATUS QUO.

And i know it’s wordplay for destroying the Vee’s, but with the combined evidence of: the Vee’s being the main metaphors for exploitation and taking AWAY control over one’s fate, along with heaven and what the hotel stands for, this makes perfect sense as to WHY he joined the hotel in the first place. Because it’s not for entertainment, and I highly doubt it’s any sort of power. This, along with the previous weird obsession with Lucifer and destroying overlords in general, his friendship with an overlord who values the people she employs to such an extent that Charlie still has to WIN THEM OVER… it just goes against everything the fandom would LIKE to say/think about Alastor.

So I guess what I’m getting at here is that the fandom is acting like Alastor is this big bad villain guy with absolutely no redeeming qualities to build off of, people are acting like defying powerful systems is NOT at all a redeeming quality that Charlie can’t build off of or use to make him gain other qualities.

Not only this, but with Mimzy and his entire relationship with her, how he just lets her walk into his life knowing that she brings trouble and he only banishes her when she proves once again that she brings trouble… like, I’m sorry but it just feels like people actively ignore these things because they’re looking for logical morality systems. Even people who know that this is an aspect of his character, tend to lack the capacity to understand that Alastor can and IS very contradictory.

He CAN own husks soul and make deals with people in exchange for goods or favors, while also disliking the idea of a soul not having independence and/or charge of their own fates. It’s contradictory. It’s supposed to be.

And I guess it’s this that always makes me confused when there’s fanart of a redeemed/angelic Alastor that is FILLED with comments like “I’m sorry but Alastor will never be redeemed” “it’s impossible for his redemption” “cool art but it’ll never happen”, GUYS.

WHAT. IS. THE. MESSAGE. OF. THE. SHOW.

It’s FORGIVENESS. It’s CHANGE. The entire fight in heaven is literally the angels spewing the same rhetoric when talking about Angel, but of course the show has to take baby steps to say that yes, everyone deserves redemption. Everyone deserves the right to change. Everyone can change. Everyone WILL CHANGE.

Alastor already believes in redemption, I know that based off of his conversation with Adam ALONE. What makes you think he can’t work towards it? Even if that’s not now, don’t you think a person would try anything to escape a contract? It’s probably the main motivation for Angel at all.

And I just. I guess I don’t understand how people could be watching and believing in a message about change and forgiveness, while simultaneously refusing to see that a character like Alastor could change. Abusers can change. They should change. If not for themselves, then to stop the abuse they instill in the people around them.

#alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin adam #I tagged them because they’re kind of relavent to this post #anyway the misunderstanding of his character is insane it makes me want to kms #to me I guess I feel it’s obvious but it’s so. annoying. it’s really really annoying. #because people just want to see a bad character that just likes to be bad and there’s nothing else to it #when even in that interpretation there’s so many contradictions to that #‘why does he want power? why to want power of course!’ #do you guys just want the mustache twirling trope #be honest #anyway I’m raw dogging this post I didn’t even re read it so hopefully it’s legible

[rabbits-rib]

Hi! So I never do requests like these but getting into MH and EMH has forced my hand lmao

Watching Tim and Evan sleep head-canons with a GN!Reader. (😭)

Hear me out! I feel like these two don’t get as much sleep, knowing their circumstances it’s understandable. (Especially Tim.) You can try to coax them to sleep all you want but they’re stubborn.

But the second that they fall asleep, you can’t help but to observe, take in their features. Hell, caress them softly or give them a small peck on the forehead or cheek. It’s peaceful and you wish it can be like this all the time.

That’s what I’m currently thinking about and I would love for you to expand on it, or just your thoughts on it, if you can!

Love reading your posts, and thank you for feeding us with them! 😭🙏

~ 🐐

THIS IS SO CUTE I LOVED WRITING THESE SM !!!! this took me forever cus i kept getting in my own head and being a sap instead of writing lolz thank you so much for your patience 😭 Evans is much more angsty than i thought it was going to be

☠️🚬 Evan Myers / Tim Wright x gn!reader helping them fall asleep :)

· · ·

Evan :

He’s sprawled out on the couch, trying to focus on the low budget horror movie on the tv, but you can tell that he’s fighting sleep and you’re immediately hit with pangs of guilt. You and Evan have both been struggling with sleep for a long while, and for reasons neither of you can exactly help; Evan has started a pattern of trying to stay up as long as possible when his paranoia gets rough because he doesn’t want to wake up to find himself not in control of his body. He can’t stand the feeling of seeing you and not being able to trust “himself” not to hurt you. You know this about him, you’ve watched and tried to help him through it time after time on sleepless nights- assuring him that you love him and that you don’t plan on leaving no matter how many times he insists you deserve better than this.

So, walking over to him and quietly planting yourself next to him on the floor, you cup his face in your hand and you can feel him leaning into your touch. Closing his eyes and bringing a hand up to layer itself on top of yours, his eyebrows furrow in a mix of relief and pain. You quietly suggest that the two of you should get to bed as you lean over to kiss his forehead, and he grasps your hand a little tighter as he whispers out a desperate “i’m so sorry.”

Your heart breaks for him in that moment. The guilt you know he feels rubs off on you more every time, but you don't want him to know. You don't want him to feel more responsible than he already does for all of this. You stretch your other arm over his drowsy form to hold him impossibly closer to you, and his frame bends into yours as he takes a deep, shaky breath. Your hand rests on the back of his head, entangled in his soft hair with your lips still connected to the top of his head as you whisper soft reassurances to him; you're hoping the onslaught of 'i love you's and 'i still trust you's will still get through to him in his tired daze.

It takes longer than you wish it would for his breathing to even out and for his grip on your hand to loosen, but you're just grateful he was able to get there at all. You gently kiss his cheek before adjusting yourself to lay your head on his shoulder, and you take a deep breath as you take in the moment engulfing you. Evan is finally sleeping, the credits are rolling on the movie he had on, and you can hear the crickets outside through the quiet background music. Everything is okay right now, and you'd do anything to keep it that way for the both of you- but for now, you'll just get comfortable and make sure you're here for him in the morning.

Tim :

Tim needs a lot of comfort to fall asleep. He has frequent nightmares that, while he doesn't like to talk about them very often (in fact you've only heard him talk about them twice, and very vaguely), you know they're bad enough to make him want to stay up for the hours on end he usually does. Whenever you do manage to coax him to get into bed with you at a reasonable hour, don't think it'll mean you'll be sleeping any time soon.

Not that he asks you to, if anything he tries to reason with you to go to bed without him being asleep, but nonetheless you stay up until you can make sure he's getting some rest. Tonight, though, is a very different story. He had been exhausted, and it was one of the very few times he asked you to join him in bed. He had hovered behind you reading on the couch, placing his hands on your shoulders gently and touching his forehead to the top of your head and mumbling a deep, "'m tired, darlin'.", too tired to try and hide his low southern drawl this time.

So, here the two of you were in your bed. You're lying on your back, and Tim has himself draped on top of you, tightly wrapping his arms around your torso. You have one hand running through his hair and gently scratching at his scalp, and the other is tucked under his loose, unbuttoned flannel resting on his back. You can feel the way his body slowly melds to yours the more comfortable he gets, every couple minutes he sinks more and more into your form. You're whispering quiet praises to him, reminding him you love him, that you'll be right here when he wakes up in the morning, he doesn't need to worry his pretty little head about it. You feel a gravely laugh rumble through the both of you as he smiles, mumbling something about how he should be talking to you like that, and you tell him that is the most ridiculous thing you have ever heard; the loving and sleepy smiles are evident in both of your voices.

Eventually, when he does fall asleep, you find yourself stuck reminiscing on the world the two of  you have built together. You live together, the two of you have learned to cook different meals together, you both talk about the future with the other like they’ve always been there- it feels like the stars aligned at just the right moment for such a perfect match to have been made. You recall one of the few nights Tim has been especially sappy; the two of you cuddling on the couch with your head leaning into his hand as he quietly told you how much he loved you. He couldn’t look you in your eyes and his thumb was gently but nervously swiping along the side of your cheek, but he mumbled about how he didn’t understand how he got so lucky with you- he doesn’t know why you’ve stayed with him but he’s always gonna be grateful for you. Remembering that now, with your hand still in his hair and him softly snoring, this is one of the very few times everything feels peaceful.

#🐐 #everymanhybrid x reader #evan myers x reader #marble hornets x reader #tim wright x reader #rabbit writings