#I did leave him off the power list though for A Reason :)

[ganymedesclock]

I think knuckles is the only character we haven't heard much about- whats he up to in your verse?

You ever meet Some Guy on a legendary lost sky island and he almost exclusively talks in a language that went out of style thousands of years ago and he punches you because something something averting the apocalypse? Yeah, man, what's with that guy?

[wannaeatramyeon]

Being Goo Kim's Secret Friend: Gitae Kim

2.2k. G/N. Gitae Kim x reader. Reader is morally grey. Gets spicy (Prequel-ish: An Introduction) Other Masterlists

“So, let me get this straight."

"Mm." Goo hums, meaning go ahead.

"You're paying me to babysit?"

"Man-sit," he interjects.

"Whatever." You flap your hand, "but I am looking after this person, correct?"

"Yes my little sweetpea." Goo rests his head on your shoulder, so close you could count his eyelashes and see the way his pupils dilate. "It's my secret friend's first time back in Seoul after being away. It'll be good for you to show him around."

"...I'm charging my usual rate."

"Sure-"

"And you're covering our expenses."

He rolls his eyes, "Ugh, fine."

.

.

Gitae Kim, from what you have managed to find out, is patricidal and a powerful man with unsavoury dealings.

"Play nice," was Goo's parting advice when you came to him with your concerns.

"Play nice?!" You say, voice shrill. Goo grins.

"Fuck you, my rate just tripled."

The grin drops and is replaced by a scowl.

.

.

"I thought we could try this place. It serves the best yukhoe." You gaze over to Gitae sitting in the passenger seat as you navigate the roads, checking if there's any response. 

Nothing.

"Raw beef tartare." You explain, "I've heard you can be bloodthirsty."

His eyes flicker to you and you give him your most charming smile.

.

.

Head resting in your palm and elbow on the table, you observe him.

You find his table manners leaves a lot to be desired and watching him has put you off your own meal.

He eats like a beast but if the ferocity that he attacks his food is anything to go by, you're right on the money with guessing his taste.

"Let's get you another drink," you murmur, signalling for the staff. "Goo will kill me if you choke to death and I'm not practised with the heimlich."

.

.

"That was good, right?" You ask, striding alongside and trying to match Gitae step for step as he ignores you.

"I think you enjoyed it. Or you look like you did. I'm not really a fan of raw anything to be honest but gotta be a good host." You direct a smile his way and he hasn't even glanced over at you. You shrug it off and continue to ramble. "I'm still pretty hungry. There's a really good bubble tea place round here and they have a limited edition drink I want to get-"

"No," Gitae cuts in rudely.

"It won't take five minutes."

"No." He repeats, indicating there's no room for argument.

"Aww, cmon," you pout and he once again continues to ignore you. You consider going anyway, with or without Gitae. 

Goo, face scrunched up in anger and shrieking obscenities, pops into your mind's eye when you imagine telling him that you might have lost his secret friend because you wanted a bubble tea.

"Fine," you grumble and throw Gitae a dirty look.

.

.

Gapryong's eldest is a man of few words and it only adds to his intimidating and menacing aura.

You've seen his list of achievements and he is not someone you want as an enemy. But when someone is this difficult, your default is to try and see what response you can get out of them.

"You know they have vapes now," you signal at the pipe hanging from his belt as you continue to walk next to him.

"Do you smoke?" you ask, and expectedly, he doesn't respond,

"No? I guess it's cool you're committing to it for aesthetic reasons." Then dammit, you wonder what has gotten into you. Maybe it's hanging out with Goo too much because you can't help but add, "Even if it makes you a bit... y'know."

He slows, looking over at you at the same time that you pull a face. Indicating clearly you meant 'cringe' even if you didn't say it aloud.

"You do you though," you say, giving him a thumbs up.

He looks at you for a beat longer, head tilted and eyes narrowed, before continuing on his way with you scurrying to catch up.

.

.

By the end of the first week, Gitae has responded to exactly three things that you've said.

The second week, he's still mostly silent but he actually looks at you sometimes when you talk.

The third week, he calls you by your name when he demands your attention and you're surprised that he even knows who you are.

And the fourth - you manage to make him laugh.

Ok, maybe laugh is a bit generous, but he exhales harder than usual and you're sure he's at least amused.

.

.

GItae thinks you're strange.

You run your mouth like you don't know who you're talking to, though you anticipate his needs and preferences like you've been studying him for most of your life.

You're this side of irritating, but not irritating enough that he wants to kill you. 

And, the few times he tunes in to your comments, he admits that he finds you quite entertaining.

No-one has spoken to him like you do in a long time. There's a refreshing honesty to your words, and he's also confident that you're not going to stab him in the back at any second to wrest control of his cartel territory, which is also a welcome change from his usual company

It means that he can relax around you, or relax as much as someone like him can..

All in all, progress. Gitae finds himself trusting you like you're his second-in-command.

.

.

"What do you do for fun?" You ask. Gitae doesn't respond.

Right, you think, back to ignoring me.

You roll your eyes and start to ramble about this and that. You tell him that you're chronically online, giving a wry smile, and say it's a general side effect of your job but at least it's interesting to know the ins and outs of a few things.

Really though, maybe you should consider taking up some exercise to get fit or even as a form of self defence with your line of work and the people you come into contact with (you give Gitae a side eye at this) but it's kinda hard to find the time and-

"I can teach you," comes Gitae's low voice.

"What?"

"I can teach you," he repeats and your mouth drops open in shock.

.

.

Ok, as far as bad ideas go, this is a terrible one.

First, Gitae is huge. There is no chance you could even win in a spar or anything against him. You doubt even bullets would be able to penetrate that muscle.

Second, there is a lot of close contact and even more touching.

You aim a punch with all your might at him, any part of him. He deflects without effort, capturing your fist in his palm and he pulls you to his body. Chest against your back, wrapping his arms around you and pinning your own to your side as you try to wriggle out of his grasp.

He leans down to murmur into your ear. "You're very weak." You can feel his voice rumbling through his chest. "But you're very fun."

Your eyes snap to his at his words.

He's grinning, for the first time you've been with him. Eyes crazed and pupils blown, breath hot on your skin.

"Thanks!" You dip your head just before throwing it back sharply, connecting to Gitae's nose with a loud crack.

.

.

Gitae's nose isn't broken though it is bruised.

You apologise profusely and he tells you you have nothing to apologise for.

"It's a great hit."

You halt in your apologies, peering up at him through your lashes with a smug smirk, "I know."

.

.

Your response plays on his mind.

The lift of your lips, the sharpness of your smile, the confidence in your eyes, that half-lidded gaze.

"I know."

.

.

Gitae sees you in a new light.

He has enough of an understanding of Goo Kim to know that he's selective with his secret friends, and you have talked enough that Gitae also understands you play the role of brain rather than brawn.

Though he did not expect such viciousness to hide under your veneer, or you to be capable of such an underhanded move.

He's impressed.

.

.

"Why do all these shows make Mexico so blue?" You ask, watching a scene unfold on your phone. "Is it actually?"

You hold out the device to Gitae, some drama show playing and Mexico is indeed blue tinged.

"No."

"Hmm. It'll be cool to see for myself." You murmur, pulling your phone back.

Gitae pauses. The idea of you in his territory is very appealing. He can demonstrate to you exactly the kind of man he is, the power he wields. He can relish the impressed (or horrified) look on your face.

"I can show you," he says and you beam at the offer.

"Deal!"

.

.

“How many people have you killed with this?” you flex your hands, signalling ‘gimme’ and Gitae passes over his axe.

“Too many to count.”

“Cool,” you say nonchalantly,  testing your grip. Gitae gives you a strange look.

“I gather intel, remember. That’s my thing,” you say, swinging the axe experimentally a few times and appreciating the heft behind it.

The meaning is clear: I know all your secrets and Gitae, to his surprise, feels some respite at this fact.

.

.

"Fuck," you squirm to no avail, trapped underneath Gitae as he looks down at you lazily, inches from your face.

Your wrists are pinned above your head, held in place by his grip as his other hand rests, light but threatening, on your throat.

You have had a few other training sessions since the first one, and the way they had gone was all pure luck. You had managed to gain the upperhand by complete fluke.

This time you feel completely stuck. Movement completely restricted. Gitae straddles your hips and you’re left unable to escape. You have no way to get close and cause any damage.

"Looks like you lose," he says.

You buck your hips, trying to throw him off but the weight and strength difference is too vast. He barely moves even with all your effort and you’re left more dishevelled than before. Shirt riding up and hair in your eyes and mouth.

“Fuck,” you groan again, elongating the word and pouting.

You peer up at Gitae and find his eyes flicking between your jutted out bottom lip and your sliver of skin on show.

An idea pops into your head. It may be your worst one yet.

Throwing caution to the wind, you tilt your head up in one swift movement and kiss Gitae full on the mouth. You make contact harder than anticipated, almost clashing your teeth painfully together but adjusting the angle just in time. 

His body stills when he realises what you’re doing.

“Why-” he asks, pulling away, and you take advantage of the distance to nip at his bottom lip and reel him back in.

Gitae’s thoughts are cut off. 

You bite down roughly, feel your sharp canines punctuating skin.

Blood bursts onto your tongue and he lets out a guttural groan, eyes boring into yours and darkened with lust.

His other hand releases your wrist, caressing over your body, slipping down until it reaches your bare exposed skin. He slides his palm under your top, long, thick fingers splaying over your ribs.

With your hands now free, you continue kissing him, mingling spit and saliva and bursts of metallic tang.

You squirm and this time, Gitae gives in to what you want; rearranging his position without breaking contact. Tongue delving into your mouth. Tasting you as you wrap your legs around his hips.

Taking advantage of the situation, you hug your arms around his neck and use your body as leverage to flip him over. Straddling him as his hardness grinds into you and his hands circle your waist to press your body close.

You can feel exactly how turned on he is, how much he wants you. And god, you’re just as fucking horny. You want him just as badly, except now you’ve managed to climb on top, the whole point of this came rushing back. You absolutely hate yourself for stopping this but-

It’s the principle.

“You know,” you murmur into his mouth, then pushing up off his chest to sit up, “I think I’ve won. Again”

Gitae frowns at the sudden loss of contact, “What?”

“I’ve won. Pretend this is a knife,” you smirk, holding your hand against his throat, in an almost-mirror image of your previous position. “I would have killed you.”

Gitae’s eyes widened in surprise, “You did this… to win?” 

“Yep!”

“I didn’t expect you to play so dirty.” He says, grinning maniacally as the pieces click into place and he finds himself completely captivated.

“I play as dirty as I need to,” you tell him, tongue swiping out to lick the remnants of his blood from your lips before dipping your head down to kiss him and continue where you left off.

[sfznyxio]

-ˋˏ WILDEST FANTASIES ˎˊ

SYNOPSIS. you are irresistible and a source of temptation, especially in his imagination.

CHARACTERS. oikawa tooru, hanamaki takahiro, matsukawa issei, iwaizumi hajime

CONTENT. f!reader. canon-compliant, post-timeskip (2021). smut. 1.8k wc. rewrite of wildest fantasies at my old nsfw blue lock group blog @/bllk-after-dark, moved to haikyuu for an age-appropriate cast. reader is in a relationship with all except makki. seijoh 4 imagine how they would fuck reader. other warnings vary for each section and will be listed there instead because uh, it’s a lot.

VERA. sorry, the power of horny took over. i never read the manga, so i went with the seijoh 4 as the scenarios suit them the most. i struggled with makki and mattsun, so they may seem ooc. i guess I'm celebrating kinktober with this fic lol.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. OIKAWA TOORU

breeding kink, creampie, edging, fingering, jealousy (toward a teammate and kageyama), marking

mine is written on your skin with invisible ink. oikawa fumes at a player from his team talking to you, seemingly enjoying his company when he sees you laughing. he doesn’t experience rage often, but it can get worse when the infamous ��king of the court” from the opponent team strikes up a conversation with you.

“what’s with the silent treatment, tooru?” the drive to the hotel is tense, and he treats you like a ghost. he also feels similar, for different reasons. when the two of you arrive at your room, he pins you down on the door with arms above your head and cunt on his knee. lust clouds his eyes as his tongue battles against yours and teeth nips at your throat, leaving a trail of bruises in its wake. 

“craving attention from him, out of all people when i’m here? i’m hurt.” you gasp at the friction of his knee on your cunt. his fingers slip inside, pumping them agonizingly slow as punishment. “think he can fuck you like this? hah, want everyone and that brat to know you’re mine.”

to prolong this type of behavior, you decide to instill delicious images in his head. “oh, how are you gonna show me off then? you’ve already done the hickeys. but what about a ring on my finger? or your cum out of me? or perhaps, a baby in me?”

oikawa pulls his fingers out when you’re nearing an orgasm. the impulse to buy a ring with his salary and propose you live, fuck you in the locker rooms to mark you with his cum, and knock you up so that guy can mind his damn business. he spends the entire night ramming his cock in you to make sure it takes.

“there you are! i had to ask one of your teammates where you were, but he’s so nice that i lost track.” oikawa is back at the court, dazed from his daydreaming. you didn’t notice him blanking out as you’re busy geeking out about his plays. “watching a match live was so exciting! i finally got to see your sets up close. one of the guys from the other team was your underclassman, right? i think he’s good too!”

he shuts you up with a kiss, and the audience reacts in a domino effect. the cameras pan to the two of you; his fans freak out that he is actually taken, and his teammates — as well as him — are in pure disbelief. you wonder why he did that. he looks proud of himself so you say nothing. “there. now the whole world knows.”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. HANAMAKI TAKAHIRO

begging, mutual masturbation, nipple play, phone sex, thoughts of oral sex (f!receiving), toxic relationships (with reader’s ex)

relief washes over him hearing that you broke up with ex over the phone. hanamaki never liked them to begin with, nor does he understand what you see in them. being the good friend he is, he remains civil, painfully. though it’s not as painful as suppressing his sinful thoughts about you squirming under touch, however.

“hey, makki. can you do me a favor?” he loves your voice. you saying his name is his greatest weakness. though it’ll be better to have you moan it in his ears when he rails you into a begging mess. now he feels guilty for harboring these feelings as he promised to only play as the ‘good friend’. but promises break eventually. “can you make me forget about them?”

the lines of friendship blur into indescribable tension. you express your frustration over lack of spice in your sex life, rambling about how badly you want to be fucked on someone’s mouth. the cries of your breasts and clit aching to be touched makes his cock to strain in his pants. sex isn’t a topic you confide in with your friends, but it does not matter now. you called him to forget after all.

“to tell you the truth, you’re driving me crazy,” he sighs with his head on the board while he pumps his length. labored breaths and whimpers are heard on your end. “what if i tell you i’m jerking off to you now, wishing i was inside that pretty pussy of yours? and what about you, wishing my mouth is there too and on your pretty tits to claim what has been mine in the first place?”

“i’m yours, always yours!” your whines turn into squeals, which has him cum on his hand. his body slumps over the edge of his bed, catching his breath alongside you. if you’re here, he would leave more proof that you are forever his with your ex nonexistent in your world. yet it’s all white noise. the entire time he has been spacing out, so you were waiting for an eternity for him to say something.

“hello? earth to makki?” hanamaki realizes the dried stickiness on his hand from his cum. he has been mindlessly jacking off to your voice. “i asked if you could do me a favor but i’d rather stop by your place to cool off. is it okay if i come over?”

“yeah. see you.” you thank him before hanging up. hanamaki tosses his phone away, contemplating what he has done. never, ever will he do this again and vows to not speak on it. all he can do is to maintain his role to comfort you through your breakup. he will do whatever it takes to prove he is indeed the better choice. there will be the day where you’re his for the taking.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. MATSUKAWA ISSEI

body worship, lap dance, lingerie, riding, sex toys (vibrator), strip tease, voyeurism

speechless is his reaction to you clad in lace lingerie. matsukawa develops a strong urge to impale you on his cock that is strained in his pants, just like how his arms are at the sides of his seat. for now he can only ogle at your body, a temptation for him to give into his desires, along with your alluring expressions.

the lingerie surprise tips him over the edge. he follows your fingers trail from your breasts to your clit, agonized by the drag of one of them along the lips back and forth. he grips his seat so hard he could feel the bones of his hands break. oh how he wants you so badly, but being the menace you are, you insist to stay patient until the end of your performance.

“not yet. keep your eyes on me.” you lift his chain to face you, with your mouth ghosting over his. how can he also enjoy the sight when you are torturing him with the sway of your hips, the flex of your thighs, and the bra straps hanging off your shoulders? and when you grind on his bulge with a vibrator in you which is your source of pleasure instead?

he finds himself matching your rhythm with an arm around your waist and the other cradling your head, kissing you as if his life depends on it. as clothes fly left and right, he yanks out your vibrator coated with your slick and finally plunges you onto him, having you seated for his show. how the tables have turned. now you’re the one being tortured, pounded with quick upward thrusts from him.

“now for the grand finale.” despite your protests to slow down, he wants to relish your body which is contorting in pleasure through the mirrors. a multitude of thrusts later, he reaches his climax and feels you clench, making sure you didn’t miss a single drop. it’s a shame that time goes by fast, because he sure wants to see your body arch for him over and over again.

“you know, it’s rude to stare without saying anything.” loud noises flood his ears. matsukawa is at the mall with you to help you buy new clothes to spice up your wardrobe. though when you mean by ‘spice up’, he does not expect to see you in lace lingerie at the fitting rooms. “so, uh… what do you think?”

matsukawa thinks that you may have a hidden agenda to seduce him, or just trying out the lingerie for fun. he marvels at how it suits your body, making you nervous. an idea pops into his head and whispers into the shell of your ear. “hm, not sure. why don’t you buy and put it on tonight for me so i can see it better?”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. IWAIZUMI HAJIME

aftercare, consent, insecurities, loss of virginity, missionary, petnames (baby), praise

sorry is your automatic reply when iwaizumi hints at wanting sex. you’re a virgin, so thoughts of being unable to satisfy someone experienced are rooted into your head. on the contrary, it’s a massive turn on. since it is your first time, he wants to make it extra special. he’s more excited than he should be so he tries to tone it down to not scare you.

you stare at him like a lost puppy as your partner reaches for your face. he smirks at how entranced you are when his fingers glide to your chin and then over your lips. he kisses you hard that you’re out of breath and pushes you to the bed. you begin to breathe normally again as he takes off his shirt, making his heart flutter, knowing that his body is for your eyes only.

“you can keep going,” you tell him when he checks up on you. with the slight encouragement of his hand drawing circles on your skin, you take off your shirt as well so he can explore more of your body. the two of you eventually strip yourselves bare while devouring each other with tongue and spit.

“squeeze if you want to stop.” your hand is intertwined with his, getting ready to signal for the sake of your safety. he penetrates you slowly, cock buried to the hilt inside, blabbering about how you’re taking him so well and swearing he’ll cum sooner than expected. the pitch of your moans is rising higher and higher. you hate how your sounds it seems by crashing your lips on his, but it tells him that he has done his job right.

“shit, baby. you’re absolutely perfect for me. how is this possible— agh,” iwaizumi hisses as he spills inside you. you’re now exhausted, sensitive from the caresses on your curves and kisses on your hands. this is what he would like to happen, however the next time he blinks, you’re lying beside him fully clothed.

“haji? you’re not saying anything.” you avert your gaze from his. you’re ashamed of literally pushing him away, believing that he’ll take offense judging from his silence. “i didn’t mean to do that. it happened so fast that i freaked out. can we start over and… start a little bit slower?”

“sure. let’s take things a little bit slower.” iwaizumi kisses your forehead to reassure you that you haven’t done anything wrong. somehow you’ve become bold, initiating the kiss and sneaking your hands under his shirt unconsciously. you retract from the sudden move, but he gestures to you to keep going. he’s so weak for you; he’ll do anything to make you happy.

[mytheoristavenue]

DS Kyojuro Rengoku x Reader 🍋 - Something In The Air

Kinktober 2024 - II

Sex pollen + public sex

Summary: You've been training to go out for missions with Rengoku for ages, but nothing could have prepared you to have a demon with the power to stimulate arousal- in the middle of a crowded market, no less!

Warnings: Sex pollen trope, public sex, unprotected sex, creampie, fem!reader, breeding, rushed/short, fluffy ending, pregnancy, Senjuro mentioned, mentor x mentee dynamic at first

You could hardly contain your enthusiasm, you'd trained for what felt like forever in order to have the privilege of accompanying hashiras on missions. Today was finally the day of your first one and you couldn't be more excited to show off what you could do- especially to the man walking beside you. You'd admired Rengoku ever since meeting him shortly after final selection and it was only natural that that respect would grow into attraction the more you got to know him.

Currently, he led you to a bustling trade village, home to a well-known market which many people tended to come far distances to attend. He was rattling off lists of why this market was so special, and you were trying to listen in earnest, but you couldn't focus, too stuck on some sweet smell that had suddenly hit your nose. Apparently, he smelled it too.

"I love coming to this market," He smiled over his shoulder at you. "It's a long pathway, filled with all things tasty." You couldn't help but giggle at his sunny disposition, feeling even more fond of him than you usually did. "Though, I've never smelt this scent before, one of the vendors must have something new to offer. We should try it before we leave, providing the demon doesn't cause too much damage to the surrounding area, of course."

You nodded with a shy smile, catching up to him as the village came into view. Dusk was beginning to settle in and the many lights of the town were starting to flicker on. It was like watching the market awaken over the horizon, casting a lovely amber glow over the pair of you.

As you drew nearer, that smell persisted, gaining potency with every step. The saccharine aroma began to overwhelm your senses as you approach the village gate, so you decided to pick up the conversation, hoping to distract yourself. "So, do we know anything about this demon?"

Rengoku thought for a moment before smiling again. "I took the time to do some reconanance before this trip," He began, slowing his pace so you could walk side by side with him with less issue. "It would appear this demon is match maker."

"A match maker?" You repeated curiously. "Like someone who arranges marriages?"

"Precisely." He replied with a proud grin. "According to locals, marriage and birth rates in this area have skyrocketed over the last decade."

"Isn't that a good thing?" You tilted your head up to look at him, something that made his heart skip a beat. "What's so bad about people falling in love?"

"Love is a human emotion, it's not something that a demon can feel or replicate." He explained, quickly regaining his composure. "So what these people are experiencing is just an intense, prolonged infatuation, they're not actually falling in love. The effects seem to wear off after about a year, or when stress is introduced to the relationship."

"And babies can be quite stressful," You finish his thought, filling him with pride at your intuitiveness. "And divorce isn't legal in Japan, so these people are just stuck in loveless marriages. How awful! Why would any demon do this, just toy with people's hearts?"

"It would seem the children of these unions have been going missing," Rengoku reveals, suddenly turning serious. "It's possible one of the reasons is to cultivate a lasting food source." You were horrified, to say the least. Interfering with the hearts of men, eating children? Just how evil was this demon? "Don't fret, my dear," His voice suddenly pulled you out of your thoughts, charming and full of tender confidence. "Together, you and I will slay this demon and free this village from its torment."

"And what about the couples affected by it?" You asked quietly, thoughts flooding back in quicker than he could dispel them.

"We can only hope that they'll genuinely fall in love through bonding over their shared experience." His smile faded a bit upon realizing he couldn't fully put you at ease, but was somewhat relieved when you asked a slightly unrelated question.

"So, how will we know when we find this demon or their work?" You asked curiously, tilting your head up at him again. This time, not only did his heart skip a beat, but he also felt heat pool in his belly. It must be some sort of anxiety for the battle ahead, he decided.

"Rumor has it that the demon puts off a distinct smell that's been likened to sugared flower-" Suddenly, he paused, pale as he swallowed dryly. "Petals..." How could he be so naive? That heavenly aroma was never a new type of pastry sold at the market. He'd lead you both into a trap. "Plug your nose, now."

You stiffened as his tone suddenly turned sharp and you wondered if you'd angered him, raising your hand to cover your nose with your haori sleeve. "Mr. Rengoku is everything-"

"Hold your breath." His command killed the words on your lips and you sucked in a deep breath, holding it in your cheeks as you followed him into the village.

Rengoku's mind raced. Had the power already begun to take effect, or did he have time? Was there an antidote or some way to dull the reaction? In the back of his mind, he knew it was too late, he could smell it for miles back, God knows how long you'd both been exposed. A tug at his sleeve stopped him dead in his tracks and his thoughts shattered like glass. Looking back at you stalled him like a car with a ruined transmission.

You looked like an absolute mess. Cheeks red and burning, eyes tired and submissive with brows knitted upwards. Had your lower face not been obscured, he would have seen the drool dripping down your chin.

"S-Sir, I don't feel well..." You confessed timidly, hoping he wouldn't look down on you too harshly. Instead, he softened, pulling you close with a hand on the small of your back, pushing his needs aside in favor of yours. "You're going to be just fine, my dear, I swear it." He reassured though he wasn't sure if even he believed it to be true.

He led you through the bustling market, expertly dodging pedestrians and obstacles alike, before pulling you into an alleyway to explain things more privately. "Don't be alarmed, everything will be alright." He started, resting you against the wall. "I believe we've been poisoned by the demon's scent, but rest assured, my intentions are pure." Nothing could have possibly made you think otherwise, you were so enchanted with him. "I fear this reaction could have dire consequences for us if we don't find a way to satiate it, but I swear to you, I will not waiver in my convictions. You are safe with me."

He almost seemed stressed, trying to convince you that he was trustworthy. You never would have thought otherwise, but it seemed like he was losing trust in himself. The longer he looked at you, the worse he ached. You looked positively disheveled, breath ragged, hair beginning to fall from your pin. He couldn't stop himself from wondering how much more of a mess he could turn you into.

You began to grow disappointed with his rocksteady refusal to give in. A part of you was excited by the situation, by the thought of the object of your admiration claiming you in a dark alleyway, feet away from civilization. Another part of you worried that suggesting you satiate the need might make you look cheap to him. None of it mattered, though, because he had already began to run on fumes, his body inching closer before his mind could tell it to stop.

His lips crashed to yours like a speeding car, all firey need and firm pressure. Before you could pull him closer, he tore away from you, wiping your taste from his mouth. "F-Forgive me, my dear!" He stammered, horrified with himself for giving in so easily. "M-My body reacted on instinct, it won't happen again!" He swore, beginning to tremble. Your response made his blood run cold, blazing eyes becoming even more owlish.

"It won't...?" Your tone dripped with sugar and disappointment, only one of which he'd normally seek out in you, but in this moment, both tasted the same. "If we've been put under the demon's influence, does that not make us...matched?"

"Matched?" He repeated dumbly, despite knowing all too well what the word entailed. He wanted to hear you explain it.

"If this demon matches individuals together for marriage and conception via this sweet smell..." You trailed almost seductively. "And the pair of us have been exposed, and are only in need of one another, does that not stand to reason that...we have been matched together?"

"I-I suppose it does," He admitted, swallowing dryly. "But we are here to slay the demon, not fall under its enchantment."

You carefully pushed away from the wall, leaning against his chest for support, prompting him to wrap you up in his embrace for the sake of your stability. "Are you not enchanted?" You whisper, dazed and desperate.

"I-I am." He trembled, holding you tight to his chest. "But enchantment be damned, I would never force myself upon you for any reason."

"What if I asked you to?" You giggled drunkenly, nuzzling into his uniform.

"A-Asked me to do what, my dear?" He swallowed, already knowing what you'd say. He desperately tried to convince himself to hold steadfast, that you were unconsenting to his whims, but how could he go on when you were throwing yourself at him?

"Take me, Kyojuro." You cooed, calling him out by name for the very first time. The way his given name rolled off your tongue sent shivers down his spine and he could no longer deny the inevitable.

"M-My dear, you mustn't tempt me..." He warned lowly, bushy brown twitching with restraint. "I-I may not be able to resist you much longer."

"I'm counting on it," You confessed, leaning up and pressing a gentle kiss to his Adam's apple. The moment your lips graced his skin, his resolve gave way like unsteady ground and you were pressed against the wall again. One shaky hand held your chin still and the other dove for your belt, eager to unobscure your lower half to the cold night air.

Hardly any words were spoken between the two of you, but there was a silent understanding between you both as he shimmied your uniform trousers down, your hands pawing at this belt buckle all the while. The moment was clumsy and escalated to a fever pitch almost immediately, but it was also passionate and driven by something other than the toxin in the air- something mutual that had always been there.

Once your trousers were far enough down your thighs where he could access you, and his erection was free, he immediately hoisted you up against the wall, holding you there with his upper body strength alone, pressing your knees into your collarbone. The ache in your core became soothed instantly when he came into contact with it, spit-slicked fingers coaxing it gently before briefly dipping inside. His fingers parted inside you, in a vain attempt to prepare you for breach.

Within minutes, Rengoku was sinking into you, a soft, almost pained sigh escaping him as his forehead dropped to rest on your shoulder. Like an antidote, the soreness inside you was eased, massaged away by his tedious pace and hot, breathy praise. "D-Divine..." He murmured into the cook of your neck, bottoming out time after time, patiently working a rhythm into motion.

He was so much more than you'd imagined, in all ways. Longer, thicker, gentler, more passionate. Nothing could have ever prepared you to finally have him in all his desperate glory, but here you were, trapped between him and a hard place with nowhere you'd rather be.

You couldn't think on that in the moment, though, too overwhelmed by the feeling in your hypersensitive state. Just his steady pace was enough to drive you both mad, whispering near silent worship to each other, hooked together like puzzle pieces. He held you so close, you felt like one being, as his hips lazily rolled into yours, not needing more than that to come close.

Judging by the tension leading up to this moment, you'd imagined he'd ravage you right there in the alleyway, but that isn't what happened. When Rengoku claimed you, he did it as softly as he could, his touch filled with affection and care, as if he were handling a glass figuring, centuries old. The throws of passion overwhelmed you so much that, you hardly even noticed when his tenderness had brought you to the edge, pushing you into the void with a sweet kiss and a whispered "I love you, my dear."

Sensing your undoing by how tightly you constricted him, his eyes squeezed shut, quivering lips peppering kisses to what little of your neck was exposed, repeating his confession however many times he felt it needed to be said. He never ceased his romantic chant as he stalled inside you, spilling what all he had to give, hips straining to keep moving, as if driven by the carnal need to plant life.

After the pair of you were spent, he continued to hold you just like that, reluctant to withdraw from you for fear that the fertilization may not take. Afterward, though, Rengoku began to feel the fog clear from his mind, plastering a confident smile on his face as he gently set you down and helped you redress. Now that he'd faced this hurdle, he was confident that slaying this demon would be easy. It was the consequences of the spell which would be challenging, or so he thought.

-----

"Kyo," You called sweetly from the garden of his family home, led down the pathway by his sweet younger brother. Rengoku beamed at you, returning home from another long mission to his beautiful wife on maternity leave. Your belly was round and full and your gait was reduced to an unsteady waddle, but luckily, Senjuro was unwilling to leave your side until his brother was there to relieve his duties.

"My match," He cooed, dropping his sword and bag to run to you, happily peppering kisses on your face. "You're positively glowing, how are you?"

"I'm wonderful, darling, how are you?" You answered sweetly, pecking his cheek.

"Over the moon," He replied, crouching down to press a kiss to your swollen tummy. "How is our little flame?"

"Never better, thanks to Sen," You laugh lighthearted, reaching out to the boy, who had stepped away, pulling him into your side. "He's taken good care of me since you've been away."

"Have you, now?" Rengoku's eyes lit up even further, standing to place a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You're growing into a fine young man, Senjuro."

The boy's timid features softened at your combined praises, and he pressed his face into your stomach, hugging you both tightly. "I can't wait to meet my niece..."

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 5 - Confrontation~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

Summary: While out for a walk, you run into everyone’s ‘favorite’ Overlord, resulting in a brutal altercation. Recognizing the danger you put yourself in, Alastor is all too willing to offer another deal. 

Themes: The usual angst, mystery, sassiness, cursing, fluff, Valentino so yeah, mentions of blood and bodily harm, eventual smut (it will return), actual plot, slow burn, and of course 18+ MDNI

3.7k Words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 (You're on it!) Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

When you asked Alastor to prove himself to you, you half expected him to just continue ignoring you around the hotel. He seemed like the type to keep any personal interaction behind closed doors. Keeping some privacy isn’t a bad thing. Before the deal, he stuck to doing his job around the hotel, helping Charlie with whatever new idea or ask she had, and broadcasting his evening radio show. Every so often he might have a drink at the bar, making small talk with Husk and Nifty, otherwise he kept to himself in the shadows.

These last few weeks were slightly different. If he grabbed a coffee, he also poured one for you (always using one of his mugs). He made a point of being at every group activity, standing practically on top of you with a hand on the small of your back. He often offered to accompany you into town if you were going for a walk. “I just enjoy your company dear” he would reason. You’re far from complaining, however, the other residents were starting to notice.

“Alright what’s the deal?” Husk thumps your drink on the bar, his aggressive tone catching you off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“You and Al – what the fuck is going on there? I thought you had more common sense than associating yourself with his sorts.”

Fuckin ouch.

“I have plenty of sense Husker,” you hissed with irritation at what he was insinuating. Vaggie and Angel silently take their seats next to you, feeling the tension of the conversation. “– and if you must know we discovered we have more in common than we thought. You of all people should know keeping someone of his sorts on good terms is wise. Thank you for your concern though.” You throw back your drink, slamming the empty glass into the bar as you stand up.  

Husk tries to smooth over your venom, “Listen kid, you’re still pretty new to Hell…I’m just –“

“Thank you again Husk! Talking with you is always a pleasure.” You cut him off, putting on your jacket and walking towards the hotel doors.

Footsteps trail behind you - followed by a hand on your shoulder, “Hey doll, don’t be too upset with him. We all just….we worry is all. Smiles is still Mr. Mystery pants. Charlie seems to be the only one not worried about his intentions.” Angel offers you a cautious grin. His smile always seems to brighten your mood.

You place your hand on top of his, “Thank you hun. I’m not mad and I understand everyone’s… apprehension…. But I need you guys to trust that I know what I’m doing. You all have enough to worry about around here.” R̵͚̀ŭ̴͓l̷̥̓ȩ̷͒ ̷̢́#̵̧͌3̶̫̈́ ̴̬̾N̶̬͊e̷͇͂v̵̞̚ę̴̿ŕ̵̖ ̵̟̈́ḅ̶͂r̷̤̔í̸͜n̴̳͌g̴̫͐ ̶̢͠a̸̳͝n̶͕̐y̴̓ͅo̸͎̐n̷̚͜ȩ̷̇ ̸̪̑ẗ̶͈́ő̴͜o̷̺̊ ̵̛̬c̴̘̀ľ̴̹o̶͇͗s̸̠̾e̴͇͝

Needing some time to yourself, you decide to take a stroll through Pentagram City. The streets could be dangerous when traveling alone, but Carmilla was kind enough to let you leave with some…equipment. Like a nervous tick, you palm the carmine knife sheathed on your waist. You always hope there isn’t a need to use it but can never be too careful.

Heaven’s embassy clock ticked down, showing less than 100 days until the next extermination. You sigh at the thought, taking notes as you walk. Every year you mapped out places you would be needed most, where you could hide sinners, alleys you could use to corner or escape the Exorcists. Maybe Alastor could help me this time? He did say together we would be more powerful.

Lost in your plans, you don’t realize you’ve started pacing the streets of the V’s territory. It isn’t until you hear someone yelling down an alley that you become aware of your surroundings.

“Listen here, you little fuck – you’re our lowest earner this month and I’m in a bad mood so…” a large demon pins a rabbit-like sinner to the alley wall, pulling a pink and white gun from his hip. “I figured you could help me BLOW off some steam. Now, now, baby - hold still for me and don’t make too much of a mess hmm?”

You look closer and recognize the tall moth demon.

Fucking Valentino.

You see red and make your way down the alley. Hearing your footsteps he turns but not before you blindside him, body slamming him to the ground. The sound of metal echoes as his gun slides across the pavement. The poor sinner runs off without a word. You’re welcome, I guess. You bend over the disoriented Valentino.

“Tough luck being out here today Val – Coincidentally I’m also in a bad mood so let’s have a chat.”

With a gust of his wings Val pushes himself off the ground and towers over you. “Ohhhhh aren’t you CUTE. Ya know people would pay good money to see a spicy chiquita like you fucked into her place, however that little stunt just sealed a different fate for you.” Smoke floods around you, wrapping tightly around your body. Your feet leave the ground as he pulls you close enough to run his tongue across your cheek. “Hmmm…tasty. Maybe I shouldn’t kill you. I could do quite a bit with this body of yours.”

A cynical laugh erupts from your chest. “Oh please – set me down. Save us both the embarrassment.” He cocks an eyebrow at your demand and tightens his smoke’s grip.

Feeling the crack of your ribs almost knocks all the air out of your lungs, but your rage is stronger than any pain. I’ve watched him hurt Angel one too many times. 

“Wrong answer Val.” You concentrate your power, hands aglow as they conjure tiny, razor-sharp needles. With a swift flick of your wrists, they pierce and slice through Val's wings. “Cool thing about needles, they can help pull you together or tear...you…apart.” He howls from the pain, loosening his grip on you. With a little more room to move, you pull yourself back and headbutt him with so much force his glasses shatter. The blow makes his smoke disappear and you drop back to the ground. Time for some fun.

Unable to see clearly - Val frantically feels around for his gun. Pathetic. Crushing his hand with one foot, you use the other to deliver a full force kick to his chin, sending his gold tooth down the alley. “You little BITCH! Who the fuck do you think you are!?” he growls as blood pours from his mouth. You climb on top of him, pinning him down with a knee slowly crushing his dick. Screams of pure agony echo off the surrounding walls.    

You grab his face with one hand and pull the knife from your waist, digging the point into Val’s cheek, “You lay your hands on any of your employees again, I’ll make sure this knife gets buried into your chest. Now be a good boy and let me decorate that pretty little face.” You turn his head and hastily carve “spurc” into his cheek. He cries out with each attempt to move, feeling your knee dig deeper into him. “Shhhh you can take it baby, come on, we’re almost done. That’s what you tell them, right? NOW HOLD STILL.” Mocking his pain you turn his head the other way, slicing “issime” into his other cheek. Blood pours from his face, staining your hands and wrists. “Spurcissime – complete filth. Quite fitting I think.”

You stand up to admire your work and release the demon writhing on the ground. Time to go. Turning to leave, you hear Val call out to someone. What is he crying about now? Without warning you’re hurled against the brick wall - your head taking the worst of the impact. As you struggle to pull your body off the ground, a large, blue claw wraps around your neck to pick you up. Between the blow to your head and your now rapidly declining oxygen, your strength dwindles.

“Are you fucking kidding me Val –You got your ass beat by Carmilla Carmine’s secretary!?”

How the fuck does he remember me?

“No she’s not –“ Val tries to warn but is ultimately ignored.

“It’s okay sweetheart. She can replace you. Sucks though. I always enjoyed staring at that ass. Made the meetings less insufferable.” Vox’s grip tightens around your neck and his other hand slides up your thigh, starting to grope every inch of you. Your vision begins to tunnel as your body goes limp, his grasp controlled and unforgiving.

Just before complete darkness takes over, a familiar voice booms in your ears, “ENOUGH!” The hand around your neck releases and the world around you spins, fading out then back in. You pull yourself to your hands and knees and try to gasp. A stabbing pain rips across your sides with every attempt to collect the air around you. Any adrenaline your body had was long gone now. Oh yeah, cracked ribs. Ouch.

Looking up you realize you’re in Alastor’s room. Any other day you would have inhaled the soft musk filling the air, but right now you can barely take a breath. “Alastor?” you whimper, throat hoarse from being nearly crushed. “Hello? Alastor?” Still silence. You lay back on the floor to try to steady your breathing and wait for the Radio Demon to make an appearance.

It only takes a few minutes to see his shadow appear, followed by Alastor himself. The initial relief you feel is quickly replaced by concern. His jacket was ripped up, and blood trailed across his mouth. “Shit are you okay? What happened?” you try to move to him but double over.

He huffs wiping the blood from his face. “No, you don’t get to ask the questions right now.” His words were near inaudible over the static. He was livid. “I want to know what the FUCK you were doing out in V territory ALONE!?” He rather unkindly picks you up, prompting throaty cries of pain and protest.

Alastor brings you to the bathroom and sits you up on the counter while he digs through his medical kit. You finally gather enough breath to speak, “Last I checked, I don’t need permission to walk around the city. Have you forgotten who I am? I am not some stupid -”

“Well apparently you are.” He bites at you without making eye contact – continuing to pull apart the kit.

Tears well up in your eyes. Too tired to fight them back you let their warmth coat your face. They steadily stream down and drop into your blood-soaked hands. You try to squeak out an explanation, “He…he just hurts so many people. He almost killed Angel. If you ask – “

“I didn’t.” he cuts in.

“I didn’t know he would get Vox in –“

“I don’t care.”

“FUCK Alastor what is your problem!?” you snap, tears burning as they run down your cheeks.

He slams his hands on either side of your legs, caging in your body and leaning right down to your face. If he wasn’t pissed right now, this would be so attractive.

“My problem? What is my problem?” Alastor’s antlers expand and a red ‘x’ glows on his forehead. His body grows and looms over you as his grip starts to crack the countertop, “Do you forget who they are? Of course Vox got involved! And if I hadn’t stepped in, he would have done who knows what to you! His hands already started to defile you - Is that what you wanted? To die at the hand of a perverted, unscrupulous Overlord?” His words were like knives, and you despised every slice he made.

His outburst ignites your own rage, making your demon form flare, “No, Damnit, you don’t get it! Down here you’ve only ever lived for yourself! You’ve never watched someone you care about almost die because of some piece of shit! You’ve never felt the need to tear that person limb from limb for what they did! I wanted to make him suffer and I DID!“ you scream at him until your voice gives out and your body gives up. A deafening silence falls over the bathroom. The only sounds reverberating off the walls are your stifled sobs. Some from anger, some from pain. Ṟ̸̂u��̫͂l̴̟̈e̷̩͛ ̸͖̽#̷̹̀4̴̎͜ ̴̰̇Ṉ̷̀e̸̲͌v̴̻̈́e̵̥͘ṛ̸͛ ̵̗̑l̴͍̃ė̶̠t̶͈̾ ̴̣̒y̷̬͋ò̵̭u̸̩̽ŕ̶̼ ̴̪̾ẉ̵̑ȅ̴̩ą̴̕k̵̗̐n̶̻̅ȇ̷̳s̸̢͋s̸͖͂e̷̡͛s̶̘̍ ̴͍̏š̴̢h̶̼̐ǫ̴͊w̷͉͝

 Alastor shrinks back to normal. He cups your face gently to clean off the dirt and blood – tending to the few scrapes across your cheeks. You keep your eyes down to avoid his stare. The last thing you want to see is pity from the demon, at least not right now.

As he kneels to clean your hands, his buttery voice finally breaks the quiet, “You know, had you said all of that yesterday, you would have been absolutely right.” He looks up, noticing your head tilt in confusion. “Seeing his hands on you triggered something in me, and I wanted nothing more than to rip apart that piece of shit for….trying to take you away from me. So yes, I do understand. But that doesn’t mean I’m still not cross with you for going by yourself. You’re lucky I had my shadow follow you.” A sly smile flashes up at you. In that moment a gnawing thought crosses your mind. Does he actually care for me? Or is he only afraid to lose the power I can give him?

Either way, he did save you, so you conjure enough strength in your voice to whisper, “Thank you Alastor,” and place a kiss on his forehead.

Once he finishes cleaning the cuts on your hands, he stands and hooks a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. His red eyes dart back and forth between yours as if trying to read every thought you could have. A smile paints his face but you can see something more. Worry? Sadness? Regret? You want to question him but the intensity of his stare has you frozen.

“I want to make another deal.” he finally says in a whisper, holding his gaze. Your stomach drops. This is what you’ve been worried about. That he was going to try to break down your walls until you willingly promise him your soul, bounding everything you have to him. R̴̤͑u̵͓̒l̷͊ͅḛ̸̒ ̸̉͜#̴͉̓1̶͇̔ ̸̟͑Ṋ̸͋e̷̮̎v̷̼̾e̸̪͌r̴̥̈́ ̵̳̽t̴̩͐r̶̻͊u̷̘͝ș̴͒t̶͙̂ ̶̝͑â̵̩n̴̙̿o̸̡͗t̸͚̒h̴̯̓ë̸͓́r̶͎̂ ̸̙̎O̸̺͌v̷̧͠è̴̼r̸̹̓l̵͊ͅo̸̜͒r̵̠̂d̸͓̽ . 

“Wh-what?”

“I want to make another deal - you promise to let me accompany you every time you leave these hotel walls and, in exchange, I will teach you how to grow your strength and power so this never happens again.” Well that is not the deal I was expecting.

Relief replaces anxiety. You lean in and give a cheeky smile, “You do realize both of those things can happen without a deal - unless you’re just looking for an excuse to kiss me again.”

“Bold of you to assume I need an excuse, “ he purred, closing the last bit of space between your bodies, lips hovering over yours, ‘but do we have a deal?”

You can barely breathe out “Deal.” before his lips gently press into yours. A glow fills the room but you don’t even notice this time, too lost in his touch to care. 

He reluctantly pulls away, “You should probably stay here tonight. I don’t think it’s wise for you to be alone in this condition.”

“Oh no, it’s fine. I got it –“ hopping off the counter, you almost crumple to your knees. Alastor catches you with a smug chuckle. “I had a feeling you would fight me on that. It is completely up to you of course. However I will warn you I am willing to go to extreme lengths to convince you of the right choice.”

Once again, you’re lifted up and out of the bathroom. “Don’t threaten me with a good time -” You try to tease but lose your breath. A low laugh leaves his chest, “I believe we’ve had enough fun today my dear.” Every muscle in your body welcomes the soft bed as he lays you down on his silk sheets. 

Your eyes flutter heavily as you hear him move about the room, leaving briefly. Am I really going to stay here with him? Guess not too much of a choice now. I know he won’t hurt me, not tonight anyway. The door opens and you feel him climb into the bed with you. 

Turning to face him, you watch him lean back against the headboard, book in hand. “I thought you didn’t sleep.” you joke drowsily. 

“I don't need much but that just means I can keep you company while you rest.”

You prop yourself up on your elbow, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, “We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to…but maybe you could tell me some stories about when you were alive? You can be my personal radio show for the night.”

A pleased hum leaves his chest, “As you wish, ma chère.” He wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer. Time might as well have stopped as he begins telling you about his life, his mom, his home, the old radio show. You practically melt into his chest while drinking in every drop of his sweet voice. It was nice to peel back a few layers of who the Radio Demon was.

You wake up in a panic the next morning. Sitting up, your tired brain takes a moment to catch up with your surroundings and you relax remembering the previous night’s events. The mirror across the room catches your eye, showing purple and blue bruises painted across your skin. “Uhhg I look rough.” you whisper to yourself. 

“Still beautiful as ever, my dear.” a voice cut in, making your heart jump into your throat. You didn’t even notice his shadow or him fading into the room while you tried to collect yourself. “Good morning Alastor, and thank you but these marks are not very flattering.” 

He sits on the edge of the bed and lightly traces his hand around your face and throat. His smile almost falters. “I loathe seeing the marks he’s left on you…but I take pride in knowing he won’t ever lay a hand on you again.” a snide grin crosses his face. That’s probably why he took so long to get back to the hotel. I don’t even want to know what he did to Vox in that alley.

“Now! You stay here, I will go grab us some coffee!” Alastor jumps up to rush out the door but you stop him. “No, wait – I want to come with you.” He nods and leans against the doorway, waiting for you to put yourself together. You only bother to run a comb through your hair. No use in trying to cover up anything.

He wraps his arm around your waist while walking down to the lobby. Plopping yourself on the couch, you look up to see Husk staring over a newspaper, eyebrow cocked. A gruff “Hmpf” comes from behind the paper as Alastor walks by into the kitchen.

You roll your eyes, “Don’t even start Husk.” 

He slams the paper down on the bar, “I ain’t startin nothin! But it sure looks like he tried to finish –“ “He didn’t touch me. I wouldn’t even be sitting here if it wasn’t for him – “

Angel bursts through the hotel doors roaring with excitement, abruptly ending your conversation with Husk. “Oh good you guys are here – you will not BELIEVE what happened last night and holy shit what happened to you!?“

He looks mortified at the marks across your face. “Tripped. Please continue.” you say dryly.

Alastor finally returns with coffee, taking his seat right next to you as Angel finishes talking about his shift and how bad of a condition Val was in.

“It’s crazy someone was powerful enough…or ballsy enough…to do something like that to him. He’s pissed and from what I heard, Vox wasn’t looking too hot either.” You shoot a look over to Alastor who huffs smugly, looking away as he takes a sip of his coffee. I fucking knew it.

You turn your attention back to Angel, “If someone knocked him around that much, he’s bound to want to take it out on someone. Are - are things going to get worse for you?” Anxiety grips your chest at the realization you may have only aggravated Angel’s situation rather than helped.

“Eh it’ll be weeks before he even gets back to working the studio, besides no one is going to take him seriously with those words on his face. Whoever got ahold of him CARVED into his cheeks. Fuckin deep too. Heard it was a carmine knife, so Satan knows it’s gonna scar.” The enthusiasm in his voice helps ease your worries.

Husk finally chimes into the conversation, “hmm and uh – what exactly was written on his face?” his eyes look straight through Angel and settle on you. There’s no way he thinks –

“I don’t know some Latin shit I can’t pronounce. I overheard some older demons say it ‘labeled him as dirty’ or something like that.” Angel shrugs it off and continues joking about how great the next few weeks were going to be for him.

You finish your coffee and stand to get more, wincing at how sore you still feel.

“You could have asked me, dear. I was about to get up for more as well.” Alastor motions for you to sit back down while taking your cup. When he walks away, Angel comes over and sits on the floor next to you.

“Soooo…you gonna to tell me who actually gave you those bruises? Did you get freaky with Smiles? I just knew he was into that kinda –“

“He didn’t do this Angel.” Your words are soft but stern. He looks up with worry in his eyes. “Don’t take pity on me like that. I am FINE…” you peek up to see Husk’s back turned. Leaning over Angel’s ear, you drop your voice to a whisper, “and uh, between you and me – the word is spurcissime. Roughly translates to ‘complete filth’.” R̴̗͠ǔ̷̮l̸͍͘ẽ̴̘ ̴̩͑#̴̙͆2̸̥̎ ̴̲͌N̸̰̒e̵͔͝v̴̯̆ë̸͙́r̴̬̀ ̸̩̏t̶̳̍ḙ̵̑l̴̥͝l̵̹̍ ̴͎͆ă̴̤ ̷͖̉s̴͕̕o̸̼͊ǔ̶̡l̶̝̿ ̷̺̓ẅ̵̟́ĥ̵̞a̶͖̿ṱ̵̏ ̸̢̕(̵͉̽ŏ̵̢r̵͚͛ ̷̘̈h̷̯̾ò̴̺w̵͉̑ ̸͔̀m̷̡̈́ủ̷̞c̶͂ͅh̷͇̋)̶̻̂ ̵͖̈p̵͍͒o̶̤̽ẉ̶́e̷̤̚ȑ̵̪ ̸̣̚ÿ̴̥ö̶́͜ù̸͎ ̸͇̑ĥ̸̤ä̷̙v̶͖͒e̶̥͛

You sit back on the couch haughtily, taking pleasure in the absolutely dumbfounded look on his face.  

Tag List (Let me know if you would like to be added!)

@rl800 @fairyv-ice @looking1016 @martinys-world @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp 

[2af-afterdark]

Who does Solomon/MC actually have pacts with?

Original posting date: June 1, 2024

Most recent edit: October 20, 2024

I just realized something. Excuse my lack of screenshots in places but... I am not in the mood to go searching for everything at the moment. You're just going to have to trust me in some places.

Based on the order of events being established in the events, it's getting really questionable which devils Solomon made pacts with (and therefore which ones MC has to break and reforge).

Facts we know/Timeline:

Tartaros is established as a kingdom (it is confirmed to be the oldest of the seven kingdoms). How long ago this occured is unknown.

Leviathan escapes from Heaven.

Metatron starts a coup, kills Papa!Mammon, and imprisons Child!Mammon. Serveral years later, Mammon is an adult and breaks free to reclaim his kingdom. At this time, he also manages to imprison Metatron.

Satan tries to establish Gehenna. During this time, he managed to find Sitri and sent him off to train in Hades (meaning Hades must already be an established kingdom).

Solomon met Satan and hijinks ensued.

While in Hell, Solomon made pacts with the noble devils and kings. He also become friends with God.

God played favorites and gave Solomon (and his descendants by proxy) the right to touch or have anything.

Solomon disappeared at some point, leaving all of his pacts in tact and limiting the devils' powers.

God disappeared shortly after Solomon did

Lilith also disappeared around this time, meaning no devils could have been born since.

The (at the time) 5 kings of Hell got sucked into another space due to Metatron's machinations, seemingly leaving much of Hell defenseless. At this time, this event has not been fully explained and where it fits on the timeline is unknown other than it occurred before Lucifer's fall.

After God disappeared, Lucifer ripped out his own wings and fell to Hell where he met the dragon Gamigin.

Two Hell years after Lucifer ripped out his wings, he would officially fall and become a devil, taking his place as king of Paradise Lost.

Some nebulous amount of time after that, Belphegor wakes up in Niflheim and starts his campaign to become king.

Three years and one terrifying, world-destroying transformation later, Belphegor is officially the king of Niflheim.

Some time after that, MC is targeted by Gabriel and is saved by Satan. Thus begins their journey through Hell.

Given that timeline, there are some devils with questionable pacts status. I have broken this list into four sections: those whose pacts have been confirmed either through MC reforging them or the in-game dialogue referencing them, those who have not been confirmed by the game but most likely have a pact due to knowing Solomon when he was in Hell, those who (due to the timeline or other reasons) may or may not have made a pact with Solomon, and those who literally cannot have made a pact with Solomon.

Confirmed: Satan, Sitri, Leraye, Paimon, Zagan, Belial, Mammon, Bimet, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Marbas

Likely: Astaroth, Eligos, Valephor, Barbatos, Foras, Glassyalabolas, Orias, Asmodeus, Phenix, Dantalian, Ronove, Morax, Buer, Bael, Amon, Naberius, Gusion, Bathin, Andrealphus,

Questionable: Gamigin, Belphegor, Beleth, Vassago, Agares

Impossible: Lucifer

I will now explain the Questionable and Impossible status characters.

Lucifer cannot have a pact with Solomon given the current timeline because he did not fall until after Solomon was already missing and didn't officially become a devil until 2 years after his fall. This means he and Solomon, though they could have possibly met when Lucifer was still an angel, could not have formed a pact. Unless Solomon formed a pact with an angel somehow?

Gamigin has a questionable pact status because the Gamigin we know is a technically a dragon, but he inherited everything from the devil Gamigin. If the devil Gamigin had a pact with Solomon, the dragon Gamigin may have inherited that too.

Belphegor was technically around when Solomon was, but he was asleep for a very long time. We know that Belphegor is acquaintances with Satan, but we do not know when this happened (either in the three years he was awake to establish Niflheim or before that). It is unclear if Belphegor and Solomon met. EDIT (7/19/24): Belphegor (Selfie) confirms that Belphegor and Solomon have indeed met.

Beleth is, like Lucifer, a fallen angel. However, we do not know when he fell. He may or may not have met Solomon when he was already a devil depending on when he fell. Even if he was a devil already, he may not have formed a pact for reasons that will be refrenced in the next section.

Vassago and Agares are technically members of the 72 but the place they live was not a kingdom at the time Solomon was in Hell. If Solomon was able to journey to the trash kingdom and form pacts with the devils that lived there at the time is unclear. If Vassago and Agares would have even formed a pact is also questionable given they seem to have a lot of resentment for those who have power but were not there to protect their home during this unknown calamity. If this even happened before, during, or after Solomon vanished, we do not know.

Realistically, this is just me trying to think through how the timeline works and who MC even needs to reforge pacts with since I noticed some weird events on the timeline.

So, uhhhhh, yeah.... If I missed something or you have information that moves a character from one group to another, just let me know.

[marinettesaltprompts]

Not sure if you're still active, but here's a 'prompt':

Maribat, but without the wish-fulfillment:

The bats-family comes to Paris, and the usual Maribat stuff happens. Shadowmoth is found, Lila gets revealed, Marinette gets to castigate her friends to the bone beofre dimissing them as vile people beneath her notice and Adrien gets summarily replaced because Plagg's Miraculous is apparently Ladybug's engagement ring and Damian is "just better". To top it all off, Marinette is taken under Batman's wing, and without an active threat in Paris leaves for Gotham.

It's not what she expected.

She realises the true depths of human cruelty without the insanity of Akumatisation to hide behind,

She gets to learn what it's like to be the last person to know plans because SHE'S not the one calling the shots anymore, indeed: she's the most junior person int eh chain of command. She's the one who has to shut and obey when push come to shove, and get excluded from decisions that effect her and information that she should have but Batman keeps locked up under "need to know". And she's not on the list.

Because why would she be? She was the child who struggled to find Shadowmoth while she had a box of magical superweapons- including one that could give her any power she asked of it- when it took Batman his Robins maybe a week at most to do the same with conventional methods.

She even finds out that Batman has a dozen contingencies in place to take the box and Miraculous from her if she goes rogue. Based on information he's accumulated from her while she spent time under his roof and trained to impress him.

Oh, and to add salt to the wound: Damian makes it clear that he doesn't consider her his equal. Guardian or not. Certainly not someone he's going to take orders from, or someone he's interested in romantically for that matter. It takes more than a reasonably attractive face and talent for magical devices to interest Damian Wayne; and beyond those things what's exceptional about Marinette Dupain-Cheng compared to the other potential love interests he already had?

Did it occur to her that he might already be in a relationship before she gave him the ring? Because it seems like she's committing the same sin that Adrien Agreste once did in assuming the bearers of Destruction and Creation have some special destiny to be together.

(Adrien could tell her how that works out).

So now Marinette's stuck in a new, far less friendly city, speaking a foreign language and in a home filled with strangers she impulsively threw her old life away to be with. And she has to live with it because of how she burned her bridges.

Great Post! You put a lot of thought into the prompt, and the idea of Ladybug being brought into a situation where she's way in over her head and not instantly the main person in charge (just because she holds a powerful set of magical earrings) actually sounds great! Though that itself could be its own fanfic idea.

I myself am not personally fond of the Maribat part of the fandom or the idea of even mentioning it, given that it and the the idea of Marinette and Damian ever being a thing represents everything bad about the salty part of the fandom, especially from people who likely never read any actual DC comic involving Damian.

However, I do appreciate how you deconstructed the idea of not only Damian instantly being Marinette's love interest, but also how Marinette meeting the Batfamily would instantly make her part of it or even their favorite, since neither of those would likely ever happen given the dark and gritty nature of Batman comics contrasting with the light and generally perfect world of Miraculous.

I mean, the idea of Marinette relating in any way to the BatFam would be ridiculous in canon, considering her generally perfect and happy family life in comparison to everyone in the BatFam differing flavors of trauma. By comparison, Lila being a bitch or her friends not believing her seems mundane by comparison.

Anyways, love the post!

[bandgie]

My Pretty Baby

idol!Bangchan x sexworker!reader

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

a/n: final part hehe, sorry if it's not spicy, I really wanted to focus on emotional stuff or whatever

synopsis: Running into 'Koala' outside of work was not on your bucket list for your mini-vacation. The interaction, however, makes emotions you thought you've locked away for good come out. Maybe, with him, you're willing to take a chance.

warnings: MDNI 18+, there really won't be much smut but there'll be mentions of it, suggestive content, kinda angsty with happy ending

2k words

Four days.

You only had four days of relaxation before you went back to work. It's not that you hated your job, quite the contrary. You just liked being your own person. Living in your own flesh without having to worry if your client was also okay with your body.

So you stood in line at a Starbucks waiting for your turn. You were rehearsing your order in your head, repeating the phrase a grande strawberry açaí please, when you felt a pair of eyes searing your skin.

Hesitantly, you look behind you towards the entrance of the cafe to see him staring at you. It took a while for you to recognize him. He was dressed in all black, a beanie and mask covering nearly all his features save for the eyes. You could, however, see the brown curls that peeked through.

This normally wouldn't have bothered you, but the familiarity in his eyes made you feel exposed. More naked than you have in your entire life. The way his pupils expand at the sight of you, how you swear you can see his breath catch in his throat. You confirmed it was Koala when he began walking to you, ignoring the way the people in line shot him dirty glares.

"Shit," you cursed. You whisked the other way around and started on your heels.

You were heading for the exit, ignoring how you could hear his heavy footsteps follow behind you. Koala's identity is further verified when he bumps into customers. His urgent, accented sorry's and excuse me's ringing in your ears.

It's not as though you've never seen your clients outside of work. Despite you working in a big city, it was bound to happen. There was just something about seeing him that you didn't like. Koala is sweet, caring, slightly insecure in a way that makes you want to comfort him.

He's never told you directly, but you can feel it. You can feel it in the way he fucks you. How his shaky, yet soft hands caress your body. The way his eyes light up when you praise him when he hits that spot so good. He lives to hear compliments, to hear that he's worthy of such endearing words from you.

You loved the power trip it gave you. How Koala hung off every word you said. How you could either save or break him from mere sentences. That's what it was at first, power. Control you thought you lost from all the people you had to please for an extra buck. With Koala, you didn't need to act submissive, you didn't need to be anyone but yourself.

He still wanted you.

That knowledge made you ache for him in more ways than physical. His company, his laugh, his kindness. You craved it. Working in the field you did had people forget that you were more than an object of pleasure. Forgetting that you were human entirely. It's why you also hung onto his words. You were also giving Koala that same power you held over him.

That scared you.

It's the very reason why you've been avoiding him. When the bartender would tell you of Koala's arrival, you would shoo him away. Coming up with excuses that you're busy, you didn't feel good, you were leaving early.

When you did let Koala see you, it was brief. You've gotten used to his body, and he yours. You knew what he liked, what made him cum all over himself. It didn't matter if you only let him use your hands, your thighs, Koala was willing to use anything you gave him.

He lost himself in the feeling of pleasure, the feeling of you. He didn't care if his cock was rubbed raw, oh so sensitive to the touch. He would pay extra just to spend more time with you. He would whine, whimper from how you stroked him, but he wouldn't ask you to stop.

That meant the time with you was over, and God knows when he'd see you again. If you'd let him that is.

You reasoned it's why he was shouting for you even when you made your way out of that cursed coffee shop. People turned and raised eyebrows, but you ignored them all. You can ignore Koala, all you have to do is go to your car and-

"Nyx!"

The way your heart fell to your stomach made you stop in your tracks. Your abrupt halt made Koala stumble right into you, his broad chest smacking into your back.

He was apologizing, but you paid no mind to it. Instead, you spun around and gripped Koala by his shirt. His eyes widened as you forced him down to your height, seething.

"Don't," your voice was reprimanding. You could feel your face heat up from the anger that boiled in you. "Don't ever call me that name outside of my work. Fuck is wrong with you?"

Koala nods at you, stumbling and stuttering with apologies. "I'm s-sorry. Really I wasn't thinking! I was just trying to get to you and I didn't know how to-"

"Yeah you weren't thinking." You let go of his shirt take a deep breath. He looks remorseful, anxious. He couldn't stop playing with the hem of his shirt, the material bundling in his fingers. Pity quickly started to take over the anger, and you raised your hands to smooth out the crumpled wrinkles you left on the top of his shirt.

"Why were you trying to get to me?" You ask after a few beats of silence. Your question makes him look away shyly, his breaths shorten and quicken.

"I really don't know how to say it..." He trails off.

His head lift up to the sky, and you mimic this actions. The clouds have turned a pretty pink from the sunset. There's slight breeze in the air that makes you shiver. As if the beautiful sight gives him courage, Koala pushes on.

"That's a lie. I do know how to say it. I...I can't stop thinking about you. I don't think you've left my mind since we first met. Going to that type of...place really isn't my thing. I honestly didn't even wanna go, I was just desperate. I wasn't happy, I haven't been happy for a while now."

He takes a deep breath. You can see the tears in his eyes, it makes you want to reach out and comfort him. Tell him he'll be okay, that everything will be fine. Still, you keep your hands glued to your sides, waiting for him to compose himself before he continues.

"I mean, I am happy. I love my job, I love my friends, my family. I just hate having no one to share that happiness with, no one to come and hold me. No one to tell me that hard times will pass. No one to lean on."

You shift on your feet, anxiousness eating at you. You should tell him to stop, that it's enough. Where he's going, there's no going back. Client or not, feelings with or without, you shouldn't let him go on.

So why does hearing him speak make you so warm?

"It was temporary. It was supposed to be temporary. Pay some money, get a good night, forget the next morning. But I couldn't. I can't. I like how you hold me. I like how you make me feel relaxed. I like when we talk. You ask me about my day, and I actually want to talk about it."

"And don't tell me that's part of your job."

You quickly snap your mouth shut at Koala's words, a blush finding your cheeks. He must know you well if he knew that's exactly what you going to say. It's true though, getting personal is what gets the customers coming back.

Not with him though. That couldn't have been further from the truth.

"I've asked the bartender about you, and he said-"

"Wait you asked about me?" You interrupt him. Your arms cross against your chest. He looks at you sheepishly, a deer-in-headlights look before he nods.

"Kinda sorta, yeah. Nothing weird though! I was curious about you. I am curious about you. He said you were acting different since I came. He said you were also turning me down a lot. That you must like me a whole bunch to be turning down the money."

Next time you go into work, you'll make sure to give Oliver a piece of your mind.

"So you'll go off what a bartender says about me, about you, rather than me myself?" You try to make yourself sound assertive, but your voice is rather shaky.

"Well, that's why I'm here talking to you no?"

You go silent again, looking down to the ground. Your shoes have never looked more interesting. They really need a wash.

"Listen," he speaks gently. "I don't know how you feel, if you feel anything. But Nyx I-"

"See! There you go again!" You don't hide your wobbly voice this time. He, and everyone else in this near-empty parking lot, can hear the nervousness in your voice.

Vulnerability.

"You keep saying Nyx. I'm not Nyx! You don't know me! For fucks sake, all I call you is Koala. You like how I do this and you like how I do that, but you don't like me. You can't when you don't know who I am. You think you like me, but you like the image I am. You like my persona, you like her. Nyx is not me, I am not Nyx. It's an illusion, it's not real. None of this is."

Your chest heaves with emotion. The air you need to breathe seems to escape you.

"Why are you crying then?"

"What?" You touch your face to feet hot streams, your lips tasting the saltiness of them. You sniff and try to use your sleeve to wipe your tears away, but Koala cradles your face in his hands.

"If this isn't real, why are you crying?" His thumbs stroke your tears, an intimate gesture. He looks at you pained, as if seeing you cry breaks his heart.

"You're right. I don't know who you are, I don't know your name. There's nothing about your interests that I actually know about."

Your face falls for a moment, but Koala guides your head back up to his eyes.

"But I know how you make me feel. I know that I want to be around you all the time. No matter what you call yourself, what you are, who you are, I want to be with you. I don't care how we started, or where this goes. Right now, the only thing I care about is you."

You're sobbing now, trying to regain control of your breathing. You both must look insane. You're crying your eyes out in the middle of a parking lot as the moon begins to shine. Even then, Koala looks at you as if you're the most purest thing on this planet.

"Fuck. I'm so tired of calling you Koala. I feel like a fucken idiot." You both giggle at the sudden confession.

"So who are you? What's your name?" You question. He moves his hands away from you timidly. Immediately, your face gets cold from his lack of warmth. He uses those same hands to peel away his disguise, his beanie and mask coming off.

There's a pink hue in his chubby cheeks, shy look in his eyes when he shows you his bare face. His brown eyes stick out against his pale skin, his plump lips twitching in anticipation. Without thinking, you brush the mess of hair away from his face, further exposing him.

"Pretty," You hum.

He blushes at your compliment, his ears turning red.

"You do look familiar though. I swear I've seen you on TV. Singer right?"

He nods. "Yeah. I have a lot of names. Bangchan, Channie, Christopher, Chris."

He grabs your hands and brings them up to his face, his full lips brush against your knuckles. You start wondering how you went so long without kissing him, without knowing what his lips looked liked.

There's no guarantee to what happens after this. There's no way you can go back to work knowing how he feels about you, how you feel about him. It's scary, not knowing what the future holds.

But you're with him, and maybe that's all that matters.

"I think I'll call you my pretty baby. If that's alright."

a/n: and that concludes this mini series of Chris. the last part took a lot of thinking. I didn't know how I wanted it to play out, what scenes I wanted to add. I just wanted this to end on an emotional connection, so I felt like adding smut wasn't really necessary in this instance. feedback is muuuchhh appreciated, I'm not that good at tugging heart strings lmao

[ladykailitha]

Not All That Glitters Is Gold Part 2

Hello! Welcome to part two of my omegaverse. Just a heads up. This chapter is a bit dark. Trigger warning for sex trafficking. Not Steve. This was a way for me to show how well tuned Steve is too his clients.

Part 1

***

Steve packed his bag and stood up to see Robin waiting for him.

“You ready to go?” she asked, holding out her hand for his bag.

He handed it to her. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

They walked out to the waiting car. Once inside Robin asked, “Here’s your phone. The word for you being in danger is kitten. The word for spontaneous heat is catnip. And the word for bonding talk and contract buying is tower.”

Steve took the small flip phone. He had his own smart phone, but those weren’t allowed anywhere near clients. The last thing a Starcourt omega needed were crazed alphas stalking them. He handed her his. She slipped it into her purse.

“Just go a message from Dillon’s PA,” she said, looking at her phone, “he has just gone into pre-rut. Fever, irritability, and mood swings.”

Steve sighed. He liked to get there before that happened. “Did he start early?”

Robin sent off a message and moments later she growled at the response. “Apparently not. Apparently, he didn’t want you there for pre-rut and lied.”

He growled too. “Put him on the black list and tell his PA if he so much as twitches wrong during this, I’m leaving.”

She nodded. “I’ll also let management know. There’s a reason for omegas to be there during the pre-rut and that’s the safety of the omega. If he can’t follow a simple rule like that, what other rules is he going to break?”

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You think I should pull out?”

Robin thought about it a moment. “It’s up to you. One lie isn’t a deal breaker per se. Lots of alphas do stupid shit the first time because they think they’re impressing you.”

Steve nodded. “There is something about this lie that makes me itch, though.”

“So pull out,” she said. “If you’re getting the skin crawlies, don’t go into something you can’t get out of.”

He thought about it all the rest of the trip, until they pulled up in front of the building.

“I think I’m going to go in anyway,” he murmured. “It could be as you said before about it just being fragile alpha ego or it could be a clusterfuck. But the only way to find out for sure is if I meet the client.”

Robin patted him on the shoulder. “You’ve got good instincts, Steve. I’ll back you up in whatever way you need.”

“Right,” Steve said, tapping his lip. “Stay with the car until I text you.”

She nodded again. “Roger that!”

Steve smiled at her and gave her hand a squeeze of reassurance. “Alphas are stupid. I’m glad I never have to deal with them outside of work.”

Robin laughed. “I know, right? But we’re here now. Go show that loggerhead who’s boss.”

Steve grabbed his bag and kissed her cheek. When he got out onto the pavement he looked up at the high rise penthouse. Dillon’s wasn’t the top suite, but he wasn’t near the bottom either.

The doorman stopped him at the door with a critical eye on what he was wearing. All of Steve’s clothes were designer, but comfortable and something he didn’t care about being ripped off him. The Victoria’s Secret PINK sweatshirt he’d cut into a croptop was paired with baggy sweatpants that fuck on the ass and power on one leg and bottom on the other.

Steve just cocked his head to the side. “Dillon Forrest is waiting for me, doll.”

The doorman was about bluster something about not letting in the trash when Dillon’s PA came bursting through the door.

“Oh thank god you’re here!” she said. “His pre-rut is progressing faster than usual!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “That’s why the omega needs to be there before any of that shit goes down.”

She sighed. “I know, I tried to tell him, but he said it was fine. He had a meeting this morning that he didn’t want to put off.”

Steve sighed. Ego. Especially alpha ego was the worst.

He looked back over at the doorman who was opening and closing his mouth like a guppy fish.

When Steve raised an eyebrow suddenly he was spewing apologies and stuttering excuses.

“Take me in,” Steve told the PA, completely ignoring the doorman.

She nodded and led him to penthouse. It was bright and sunny. And that was a problem. His client was on the sofa practically shaking from the pre-rut symptoms.

He found the remote to the shades and closed them, casting the room into dim light. Immediately the twitchy actor breathed out a sigh of relief.

The PA’s eyes narrowed at the drastic change in behavior.

“You act like this is your first rut,” Steve snapped, pulling out a bottle of water from his bag.

Dillon and his PA exchanged a glance and Steve’s eyes went wide.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Steve growled. “How long were you on suppressants?”

Dillon blushed, looking away then back up at the PA. “Since I presented when I was sixteen.”

“And you’re twenty-two now?”

Dillon nodded. Again he avoided looking at Steve and kept looking at the PA like she was in charge, not him.

Steve looked around and put his hands on his hips as he pursed his lips.

“This is a completely different situation then the one that was presented to the company,” Steve bit out. “I have to call my handler.”

He pulled out the phone and called Robin. He explained everything to her as he eyed Dillon and his PA. There was something off about the whole situation. The PA kept her eyes on Dillon, her fingers drumming on her arm, both arms crossed in front of her chest.

Steve listened to Robin, tilting his head further and further as he watched the two them.

“Kitten,” he said. “I think I left something in the car, I’ll be down to grab it okay?”

The PA frowned and stepped forward. “What did you forget?”

“It won’t take long,” Steve murmured, not bothering to answer her. There was a knock on the door and he went to answer it.

“Oh good you’re here,” he said with relief and then quickly closed the door behind them.

“Run!” he whispered to Robin.

She grabbed his hand and opened both elevators and got in one and told Steve to get in the other and go to the first floor and then down the stairs.

Steve nodded. Once in the elevator he called her.

“What’s going on?” Robin asked, panic rising her voice.

“I think Dillon was raised in sex trafficking ring,” he explained, “and you need to send someone to get him out of there now.”

Each omega had their own driver. Big, burly fellows for fending off large crowds of fans or very persistent alphas. And like extreme cases like this where they needed two pairs of hands, the handler and driver would work together to keep their omega safe.

Steve driver was a man named Xander Poulson and had been with Steve since the beginning. Robin had hand picked him and they relied on him for everything when Steve was on the job.

Robin opened her mouth to ask for particulars but closed it, messaging the driver to get Dillon out that suite instead. “All right, Xander will meet us at the car in five minutes.”

After that everything just happened so fast. Dillon sat listlessly between Robin and Steve as Xander sped away.

“How did you know he was in danger?” Robin asked as she rapid fire texted Starcourt management.

Steve ran his fingers through Dillon’s hair softly and the alpha sighed. “He was about to experience his first rut with an escort after having been on suppressants for six years.”

Robin looked down at the now almost delirious actor. “Shit. The only reason for an alpha to be on suppressants was if they were a danger to omegas.”

“Or if they being forced to have sex with other alphas,” Steve muttered darkly.

Dillon whimpered.

“Your flat is being set up for a first rut,” Robin said. “Management is okay with him being there because he’s too out of it to know where he is.”

Steve nodded. He wasn’t sure he could trust anything in the dossier considering most of what they now knew was a lie. “Shit Robin, I can’t even scent him! He smells duller than a beta.”

Robin frowned. “I’ll have a doctor sent over as well.”

They arrived back at Steve’s building and were quickly ushered in. The doctor saw to him first and administered medicine and tranquilizer to put him to sleep for a couple of hours to try and equalize the rut.

*

Dr Sam Owens, Robin, and manager, Jim Hopper were standing with Steve in his living room.

“Do you think you would have been harmed?” Hopper asked gruffly.

Steve shook his head. “I think they forced the rut because of what happened with his scent. I think they were hoping to jump start it so that he could be pimped out to omegas. But they couldn’t have it be any omega, they had to have someone who could gently see him through it.”

Dr Owens shook his head. “It wouldn’t have worked. He was too far gone. If you hadn’t acted as quickly as you did, there’s a good chance he would have destroyed his secondary gender when he came out the rut.”

Steve just shook his head.

“I just want to know how long they’ve been controlling him,” Robin hissed.

Hopper shook his head. “Dillon was a child actor, there is no telling how long they’ve had their claws in him.”

“Do we know anything about the ring he was being trafficked in?” Dr Owens asked Hopper.

“I’ve spoken to the FBI and INTERPOL, they have a pretty good idea which one it is,” Hopper growled. “The Upside Down, run by Henry Creel. And if Dillon willing to give them information they can probably take it down for good.”

“That’s a relief,” Robin said.

Hopper turned to Steve. “How did you know he was being trafficked?”

Steve blushed and rocked back on his heels. “No hot shot alpha actor was going to defer to their PA not unless it was a relation. Plus there was the fact she never introduced herself. Add to that all the lying about what it was and how little they both knew about ruts, it just really couldn’t be anything else.”

“You did good, Steve,” Hopper said. “You saved that man’s life and may have just taken down one of the biggest sex rings on the North American continent.”

“I was just doing what I do best,” Steve said, “take care of alphas in need. That’s what rut servicing is at it’s core, after all.”

“Well, I’m going to want to keep this hush hush,” Hopper said. “At least as far as the company is concerned. I don’t want to paint a target on your back.”

“I’ve already begun the scrubbing process regarding their files and contract with us,” Robin said. “The process should be done in two hours.”

“Good.”

“How long until he wakes up?” Steve asked Dr Owens.

Dr Owens looked at his watch. “In about an hour.”

Steve nodded. “That should give me plenty of time to get ready.”

He excused himself and went into the bedroom.

“That was not how wanted to spend my morning,” Hopper growled.

“I feel you, boss,” Robin agreed. “I wanted to pull out of the job when we were in the car, but Steve sensed something else was going on right away.”

Hopper nodded. “He isn’t our highest paid omega by a long shot, but he is the best.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Dr Owens said.

“Well, gentlemen,” Robin said, stowing away her laptop. “You really don’t want to be here when the fucking starts.”

Dr Owens and Hopper made faces and allowed themselves to be ushered out of Steve’s apartment.

Robin went through and made sure that the fridge was stocked to her specifications and then locked the door behind her.

***

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

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[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Five (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genre: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors / ageless blogs interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list). 

Author’s note: This is SO VERY ANGST. More angst than any other chapter so far. STRAP IN GIRLIES (GN). I'd love it if you feel like sharing what you think - your feedback means the world to me. ILY :-* Reblogs, comments, and asks are literal power-ups in my day and I appreciate every single one!

Word count: 8.3k for this part. 

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

You’re spiralling. 

You’re pissed off and you’re hurt and you’re somehow still horny as hell (somehow, perhaps even more horny since Santiago helped you out in that very particular way of his). You feel all in a tizz, like you don’t know which way is up; but even so, you’re pretty sure you’ve simply been going around in circles, and it’s dizzying. Santiago makes it easy to do that when you follow his lead, after all – all the more reason that you’d had to get out finally, all those months ago. 

Safe to say, you’re a little bit worked up. Too many thoughts are racing through your head. Resentment that he could get you all riled up like that, have you come undone, and then straight up deny you. Like it was some power play all along and that all he wanted was the satisfaction. On the other hand, a dreadful longing spikes at the thought that maybe he really did just want to protect himself, because he wouldn’t know how to find his way out this time if he got lost in you all over again. 

The main thing you’re feeling though – a bitter shard of pain stabbing through any sense of pleasure you may be left with - is a singular fear. 

What if he really doesn’t want you anymore? 

He wants you, yes, on some level. His admissions in the kitchen about wanting to kiss you confirmed that much. But his desire for you had always felt like an unstoppable force. Like something he couldn’t help or hope to control. Like a raging fire. He had told you that he loved you, wanted you, needed you, all those months ago. And while you are sure that remains true at least in part, you are terrified that all you leaving had achieved was to teach him how to live without you. And, contrary to that, his touch had simply confirmed how hopelessly consumed by him you still are, all your progress - moving on and rebuilding and forgetting - unravelled in mere moments by his fingers. 

You resent that too. His power over you, when you always prided yourself on being strong – needing no-one. You have never liked to feel like the one who is compromised, in any situation. You always prefer to be the hunter as, that way, you’re not the one who gets hurt. But Santiago? Santiago is lethal, and he has always known your weak spots.  

Maybe that’s why you had stormed angrily to your room, subduing your heavy footsteps reluctantly, only for the sake of your dear buddies sleeping soundly in their beds. Maybe that’s why you had hastily cleaned up, throwing on some fresh clothes from your case – a low cut top and some obscenely tight jeans. A splash of perfume. Some lipstick. All in the hopes of heading out to the local bar and searching for the kind of late-night attention which feels in your control. Seeking a desire which feels manageable. Trivial almost, instead of the kind which burns. 

Part of you – a small part of you, at least - recognises you’re being ridiculous, irrational, reactive, even as you zip on your boots. But there is another part of you that simply can’t stay here in this house with him a moment longer, feeling like he doesn’t want you the way you want him. 

You feel like, while you’ve been breaking apart for all these months, he was healing. It’s cruel maybe, that you would wish for his desire to burn him as much as it has a hold over you – but perhaps you’re not perfect. Perhaps you’re only human. 

Whatever. It doesn’t all need to make sense right now. Your head’s all over the place. You’re not really thinking straight at all. You don’t know whether you want to cry or scream or get your brains fucked out (or maybe all of the above - not in that order). And so, you’re definitely not thinking when you throw open the door to the bathroom, recalling that you’d left your necklace on the counter. If you were -thinking- perhaps you would have heard the rushing of the water. Perhaps you would have heard the muffled, bitten back groans emanating from the shower cubicle. 

Fuck. 

If you weren’t thinking straight before, every thought falls right out of your head altogether when you swing open that door. Namely, when you see Santiago, his body slanted into the wall as he palms his thick, straining length in something of a frenzy. 

You should retreat, probably. In fact, yeah. That's exactly what you should do. But, the sight of him there arrests you, and you can’t help but devour every detail of him. Your eyes skim over him only fleetingly, and yet your memory of his body fills in the gaps, meaning you’re able to see far more of him than you could otherwise in the split second your eyes rove over him. 

He is stripped down, his body curled into the tiled wall, his forehead and one shoulder bracing himself as the stream of water thunders down on the back of his neck and his broad, lightly muscled shoulders. 

His thighs are slightly spread and his full glutes are clenching as he fucks his hard, veined cock into the circle of his left hand, squeezing tight and showing no mercy, his pace relentless. 

From the way his nipples are pebbled and the way you observe the tightness of the muscles coiling in his back, you can guess that the water is cold. Perhaps, that he had attempted to cool off after what had happened downstairs, seemingly to no avail. His need is heavy and urgent and burdening his hand, the veins popping in his slick forearm as water sluices over every contour of him and still, his want is evidently raging. 

The most important detail of all, however, is that his eyes are closed, droplets of water beading in his long lashes, and a wracked moan sounding from around his own fingers as he shoves them over his tongue. 

Fuck. 

He’s licking them clean. He’s tasting you. Tasting your juices from his fingers and pumping himself raw from the thought of it. 

Holy shit. 

He wants you. 

You see it now, clear as day. He wants you to the point of desperation. Helplessness. To the point of coming undone with his need for you. His want rages even beneath the stream of a cold shower, taken in hopes of subduing himself. He works himself urgently in his fist, in hopes of finding his release. You find him here, like this. 

Unfinished. 

You can see it much more clearly now. You see how he wants you. You see what you do to him. What you still do to him. 

You see now that saying no to you likely took every scrap of control he had, and now that is gone, there is nothing left for him but you. 

As you enter, Santiago hears the door creak open – you weren’t exactly sneaking- and he immediately tilts his body to the wall. It’s automatic - showing his ass rather than his dick in his hand, likely in case one of the boys had just walked in on him. But, when he sees it’s you stood there, all slack-jawed and honey-eyed, he foregoes the need to hide. He turns towards you instead, his length twitching as it grows even more rigid and more ruddy at the sight of you. Santiago’s eyes hooded and desolate with want as he looks you up and down in your ridiculous, come-fuck-me clothes. 

Santiago knows fine well that you only wear red when you want to be shown a good time. You feel like a flare, on display, and maybe you’d feel stupid -like scrubbing this red paint from your mouth – if his need was not blatantly on display too. If his predicament did not seem even more dire than yours. 

Finally, though, as you look and he lets you, you register the intrusion, and with a series of stunted vowel noises which barely make it past your teeth, you are dragging your eyes away from his. Your legs like jelly and skin flushed beneath your tight clothes, you are clasping the door handle and turning on your heel. Your only objective is to make it out of there, even if you turn to vapour in the hallway after the fact. 

“Where the fuck are you going?” Santiago asks gruffly, and you are not sure what he means. Not sure whether he means to ask where you’re headed out to so late, or to inquire why in the hell you’re leaving the room now that you’re here, but God, you’re not sure anymore that you could answer either question in any way that would make the slightest bit of sense. 

You’re just not thinking straight. Can you be blamed? Look at him. Look at this, all for you. 

So, you freeze, breath held in your lungs as you grip the handle – your back to him, and about to swing the door open to hasten your exit. Instead, though, against every shred of good sense you have, you push the door closed, ever so gently, with you still on the inside. You turn, preposterously slowly back towards him, and when the sight of him stood there, wet and dripping, face all stern and languidly palming himself in the circle of his hand hits you, you flatten your back to the panelled door. Truth is, your legs feel so weak that you could barely stand without it. 

And, as if that wasn’t quite answer enough, Santiago continues to look at you insistently. 

Well? The quirk of his thick brow seems to enquire. Where the fuck are you going? 

Your voice comes out all breath. “Nowhere.” 

You’re going fucking nowhere, apparently. Only ever around and around in circles with Santiago “Pope” Garcia – but suddenly, you could care less.  

Your eyes lock then, and it takes less than moments for him to be on you, his wet hands fisting everywhere - in your hair and your clothes - and dragging your mouth onto his in a sudden, consuming crush. Your hands snake into his hair, squeezing cool shocks down your forearms as you wring rivulets of water from his grizzled curls, grabbing handfuls of the length at his crown to pull him deeper into you, his tongue hot and supple and buried in your mouth. Your top sticks to you, wet and sodden in all the places he has grabbed up handfuls of your flesh, or pressed his hot body flush against you. 

He drives you back, into the door and the awkward mess of towels hanging there on hooks. 

“Fuck,” he bites off into your mouth, and you surge forward with this barrelling want, walking him backward and slamming him against the cool tiles with a thwap and enough force that he grunts. Still, it barely slows him down at all, his hands all over you and his kisses still devouring, ripping the air from your mouth. 

There is no romance in this, you think. Only need, raw and animal, and you are surprised that you show enough restraint not to tear each other down to the floor and go at it right on the tiles. Still, you barely show any more restraint than that. 

“Shit. Fuck. Turn around. Turn around,” Santiago rasps, entirely wrecked already, barely able to get the words past his mouth. His cock looks almost painfully hard, and entirely insistent against your ass as he spins you and roughly bends you over the counter, pots of toothbrushes knocked into the sink and soap rolling who knows who cares where. 

“You want this?” he asks as he presses you into position, little precision or ceremony in it – just a rough, raw urgency, entirely untamed. 

You can see yourself reflected in the mirror above the sink, blurry and steamy and bent over, and that’s exactly how it feels. Everything; blurry and steamy and close and tight. He’s as hard as the cool marble surface digging painfully into your hips, and you’re as hot as steam and as wet and slick as this mirror and you’re melding into one another – not single bodies anymore but shapes and a mood and a feeling, and there is nothing else. 

“Princesa?” Santiago pleads, even as he tugs your jeans down over your ass, removing the bare minimum of clothing to give him access where he needs, the garment still tight and unforgiving around your thighs, not allowing you to move  - barely at all. “You need me?”

“Yes. Fuck me. Need you,” you beg, and you hear him spit unceremoniously into his hand -not that he’d need it- and slather it all over his length, groaning as he makes contact with his sensitive, needy dick as though he might spill over his knuckles with the anticipation of stuffing you full alone. 

Still, he holds on -by a thread – and your eyes roll back into your head as you finally feel the blunt tip of him notch clumsily at your need-swollen entrance. 

Then – ohhhhhh- then, there is the dull ache shortly after as the girth of him pushes through your wanting folds. You grunt at the initial stretch as he works himself inside of you, but pinned between the counter and his surging hips there is nowhere for you to go, and his need sinks into you inch by inch until he fills you all the way. 

You succumb to your ragged breaths and mewl for him, you arms practically giving way beneath you as you press them into the cool surface to keep you standing. He fills you, and God, you’ve missed this. Have missed how full you feel with him inside of you - in every sense of the word. The way his hands grip your hips in that specific spot he likes. 

You have missed his girth. Could swear you can feel every inch of him pressing outward against the tight grip of your heat as he fucks his cock into your hole, bottoming out with a delicious, wracked, stuttering moan, the sound alone causing pleasure to bloom around the drag of him deep inside you. 

Still, despite this fullness - you also feel the give of your walls to him, your slick and eager heat actively suckering him in. He stutters his hips as you clamp tightly around him and then, so help you, he finally begins to move. 

Jesus, this feels even better than his fingers, even better than you remember, and you relish every moment as he fucks into you, bareback and desperate, your pleasure coiling up impossibly quick as the straining mass of him works you open, hitting all of your sweet spots. Your legs tremble beneath you with adrenaline and want, and you feel Santiago’s thighs flush against the back of your legs, his hips snapping against the cushion of your ass as the counter edge bites painfully into your hinged hips. 

He's not taking his time with you. Not teasing or planning or thinking. You can tell by the undone grunts and groans he’s submitting to you already, that -for once- he is far too consumed by his own need to contemplate yours. Can tell by the sloppy pace of his thrusts and the lack of attention to your clit or your breasts or anything else but filling you - his hands fisting in the meat of your hips as he takes what he needs, gives what you crave – that he’s not even trying to make you come… but goddamn it if he isn’t going to get you there all the same. 

Soon too. 

God, the head of him is rubbing exactly where you need, and you can’t remember the last time you felt this good with a dick inside you. Your cunt is primed for him, still sensitive from where his fingers fucked you open and it isn’t going to take you long at all to reach your peak. 

Even without seeing him properly, in the misted-up mirror, you can tell that Santiago is going feral behind you. Filling you deeply and haphazardly, his fingers leaving imprints on your skin. 

You hear a snarl, and see a pearly flash of teeth as his lip curls up from how good you’re making him feel. 

“Fuucckk,” he groans, his head tipped back now, that pretty chin pointing up to the sky and his mouth dropping open – you can vaguely see in the mirror

His broad hand smooths firmly down the middle of your back and over your ass - grabbing handfuls of you- before he retraces his path, sliding his hand up between your shoulder blades and winding his hand in your hair, grabbing and pulling until your spine is curled back for him like a bow, your ass arced up and allowing him a deeper angle of penetration which sends tingles all the way to the tips of your toes when he hits just right. 

You practically yowl for him, your whole body trembling and shaking, sweat trickling down the centre of your cleavage as the layers you did not have time to dispense of overheat your skin. As your clit is nudged into the lip of the counter in a way that shouldn’t work for you, probably, but totally does, the intermittent slap of Santiago’s hips against you providing a pleasing rhythm. 

It’s uncomfortable, and hot, and cramped, and in some ways painful to be rammed up against the surface like this, but you wouldn’t tell him to stop for the world. You wouldn’t tell him to stop because the way he’s taking you feels divine, Santiago burying his want for you as deep as it will go, releasing his punctuated, abortive gusts of breath in time with his thrusts.

You feel drips land on the small of your back, and whether its water cascading from his dampened curls or beads of sweat from the exertion rolling down his temples you do not know or care. 

You only know that you want more. 

Determined as ever, you plant your hands firmly on the counter as he fucks you near boneless, driving through your hips until you meet his thrusts, working him up higher, finding the angle which hits just right and-

“Unnnngggg.” A whimper falls from his pretty mouth and his thrusts are suddenly far more shallow, slow, nudging against your nervy, sensitive entrance. His breaths are coming in deeper, heavy gusts now and you might be afraid that he was about to stop - if you weren’t so sure that he was, in fact, gearing up. 

“Santiago,” you complain as he blunts the sharp edge of your precipice with the break in rhythm. You urge him to give you more, and he uncurls his fingers from your hair and adjusts position. 

Obligingly, he wraps his stronger arm around your chest to guide you closer to standing, pressing his chest to your back, his head hooking over your shoulder. And, with his other arm, he reaches forward towards the steamed mirror, using his palm to clear a window from the condensation. 

“I wanna see you,” he rasps, a hoarse, gritty whisper in the shell of your ear. “Wanna watch you.” 

God, it’s too much. The way his arm is wrapped around your front, strong and yet tender as his forearm braces across your chest and his fingers dance tenderly over your jaw. The wracked, undone voice of him, whisper soft. The contrast between this and the certainty of his thrusts as he finds a new rhythm. As you find a new rhythm together, entirely in sync. 

Slowly, so slowly, he draws out of you, ensuring you can feel every single inch of him, the tantalising drag of him through your folds making your quiver. Then, he snaps back into you all at once, so suddenly shoving himself up into you, balls slapping against your ass, each repetition of this pattern building you up. God, you want him to spill himself inside you, and you think vaguely that it is the only thing which could quench you. 

It is your undoing when his eyes find yours in the mirror, and this all becomes real. No longer fantasy like your unreliable recollections of him all these months. No longer shapeless, tangled, blurry bodies, but now so very suddenly, you are looking at you and him, with all that means. 

The look in his eyes gives form to this act, as though the love settled in them is the very thing giving form to the way he fills you. He is at once stern - his brow burdened, heavy-lidded with need, his eyes sunk into a pit of desire - yet soft. His strong nose is crushed up against you as his lips caress your neck. His eyes dance over your face, taking you in as you languish up against him. 

His eyes are molten when they find you again, dancing with a soft, subtle heat not unlike firelight, long lashes fluttering in disbelief at the sight of you. At the feel of you wrapped around him. No longer just a body or some carnal need, shapeless and intangible. 

Instead, Santiago and you, and your bodies moving as one. 

His soft lips and rasp of stubble break from the column of your neck as his thrusts become sloppy, and you feel his hot breaths come thick and fast against your skin now. 

He missed you.

He missed you, and this is what he’d meant. Had meant he needed to feel you wrapped around his dick. Moaning his name. Needed to see you being his. Missed you being his. God, you missed that too, in so many ways. 

A moan rips through you as you approach your peak, and you plead profusely with him. 

“Don’t stop. Santi. Please.” 

You don’t ever want him to stop. 

As you clamp down on him, your fluttering core wrings his own orgasm from him too, and then he’s pulsing his load into you, thick and warm and abundant, his thighs quaking against yours and his arms gripping on to you more tightly – this time for purchase – as though this might be the time his knees finally buckle if he doesn’t hold on to you. 

You can feel his racing heartbeat hammer from his chest to yours as he holds you flush to him. Can feel his mouth suck at the column of your neck, his tongue sliding along your pulse point and tasting your perfume. 

You come down from your high, thrumming with it. Wet and messy between your legs as Santi drags his softening dick out of you, letting your juices and his seed slip down your inner thighs. 

You feel good. Blissed out. But, as ever, with you and Santiago, there’s always a catch. The joy is immense, but, guaranteed that one of you - if not both - will find a way to ensure it is short-lived. 

Indeed. All too soon, you begin to feel that creeping sense of regret hollow-out your stomach. 

You can see it on his face too. The uncertainty. The lack of understanding of what this all means. About what to do next. It is evident from the way he so quickly moves away from you, picking up his shorts and t-shirt and covering up his body. Similarly, you hike up your jeans without even cleaning up, and as much as you might have hoped for a joyful, intimate moment, you know that it’s already too late for that. The moment that the insecurity, doubt and uncertainty had crept in on each of your faces it had become self-reinforcing. A spiral. Running in circles. 

“Shit,” you sound out, in a clear peal of regret, planting a hand over your face in distress - despite everything. 

“Sounds about right,” Santiago agrees in a monotone, brows drawn down and his gaze fixing on a spot of tile, unable to look you in the eye, despite having been buried inside you only moments ago. 

“No,” you stress, bringing a second hand to your face. There’s something else. Something that makes you feel stupid and sick. “I…. I mean, shit. I changed my birth control up and I… I mean we…” Santiago snaps his eyes back up to you now, alright. You curse when you note the writhing of his taut jaw, set and a little annoyed. Your softly puffed expletive which follows is contrite, but it doesn’t help. 

It’s not like you -or him- to make a mistake like that. And yet, you had all the same. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

You bristle at his harsh, accusatory tone. How quickly things sour. “It’s not like you checked!” It is his turn to bristle now, and so you opt to be harsher still. “Besides, I didn’t exactly think you were going to be quite so quick on the trigger, Santi.”

He narrows his eyes at you, his riposte about his stamina not even required. He got you off, didn’t he? So, your attempted distraction is futile, as he manages to stay alarmingly on topic. You fold your arms across your chest as he steps towards you, feeling on the back-foot as his flattened palm nags through the air to punctuate his words. “It didn’t occur to you to mention that before we fucked?” 

“I forgot. I switched up my method and I’m not technically covered yet. It’s marginal, you know. Most likely fine. I mean, what’s another 24 hours? Besides, I didn’t exactly plan on this, did I?” 

He scoffs, then he purses his mouth until much of the colour drains from his lips. “Oh yeah. Sure you didn’t.” 

You raise your eyebrows, and jut a hip out to the side for good measure. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

Santiago shakes his head softly. Plants his hands on his wide hips, making himself larger. You don’t shrink back from him, but you note it. “For real?” He flashes his line of teeth now, a lopsided, disbelieving lilt of his lips – no happiness in it. Not at all. “I know you love to pretend like I’m the bad guy, right? That serves your narrative or whatever? Bullshit, honey. You knew exactly what you were doing tonight.” You snort out a huff of air through your nose, your look all steel as you prepare to deny his claims. You falter though, with his next words. “I can’t get off without you, Santiago?” he mimics, and your comeback dies on your lips. “You wanna put this all on me now? Believe me, I gave it everything I had to stay out of-“

“-My vagina? Yeah, great job, Pope.” You throw your hands up in the air and they slump right back down again. “You’ve had everything up in there except your damn tongue.”

“Let’s go then, sweetie,” he challenges, nodding to the rear of you, his voice taut rather than inviting. “Hop up on the counter and spread your legs, I’ll make it 3 for 3.”

It’s unfamiliar to you, this tone of his. It makes your heartbeat rage. You swear you can even feel the pulse of it in your tongue. “Fuck. Whatever. I’m not having this conversation with you.” Your adrenaline spikes at the prospect of another argument and you turn on your heel, looking for an exit. 

However, before you can retreat, Santiago’s broad palm contacts your arm to stop you – open hand, no force applied – and you turn your head over your shoulder. “At least tell me you’re going to take care of this,” he bites off, with a clear attempt to restrain his aggravation, expression sullen. 

“Of course I am.”

“How?” 

You think. “I’ll go to the pharmacy in the morning. I’ll deal with it.” You pump your brows emphatically. “Okay?” 

You shrug his hand off of you then with apparent disdain for his touch, and in spite of his (relative) tolerance of your acerbic tone, that is apparently the move which fractures his composure. “You know what actually blows my mind? The way you can be nice to me just long enough to get yours. Pretty fucking convenient.” 

You feel your face twist with the weight of a sour expression, mirroring his. “Why are you always like this?” You don’t wait to hear his answer, the adrenalin propelling you away, down the hall and closer to your room, but his footfalls follow closely behind you, hot on your heels. Your voice is a whispered hiss, as, somewhere in the back of your mind, you are vaguely aware of the need to keep it down – the other boys are lights out by now. “Why can you never just fuck me and be happy about it, huh?” You spin to face him, chest to chest and facing off. 

“I knew this was a fucking mistake.” 

Your pulse is in your throat. “Right. Maybe it was. That’s all I ever was to you, I guess.” 

Your voices raise, slowly creeping up in volume as you each get lost in this intimate bubble of angst. Of resentment. On some level, you know you could stop now - before it gets worse and you say things you will only regret (or worse, hear things you’ll wish you hadn’t). You know that you should stop, but it feels… oddly necessary. 

Like it’s inevitable. Like you’ve been waiting all this time to fuck and fight because it’s all you know how to do with him anymore. At least, it’s all you know how to do when loving him heart and soul seems off the table. 

The space your bodies create is tight, leaning into each other’s circle of personal space. 

Santiago’s fingers bridge like a claw and he taps them against his own chest, his eyes needling you like he could sew this up once and for all. Tie off all those loose threads of blame which sit frayed between you. He’s angry. Angry and riled and pissed and even so, there is still this eerie sense of calm about him. 

You’ve seen him really let loose. You’ve seen him kill, for Christ’s sake, and yet he’s still measured and restrained in the face of you. That should make it easier to bear the brunt of his sharp edges, but that’s not quite so. There’s something about the precision of his anger when it’s focussed on you. The fact it feels so considered, so targeted only makes it cut deeper. “You know what? I’m tired as shit of always being the fucking bad guy here. You wanna get into it, huh?” His voice breaks now, splitting like shrapnel, lodging in your chest. “I told you I love you and you fucking left me.” 

“That’s fucking bullshit!”  

He’s not happy that you said that. He rocks from foot to foot like he’s priming for something. Scoops a hand over his jaw, around his taut mouth. You’re close enough to hear it rasp, the fleck of his stubble bristling against his palm. “Oh, it’s bullshit?”

Your voice comes out hot now, your words bitten off between your teeth, flecks of spit cast from your mouth. “Yes! Because if I hadn’t left you never would have told me! You told me because I left you! You told me to fucking punish me. To try and drag me back in.” 

“Wow. Jesus fucking...” He laughs, but it is a cold, brief sound. “That’s fucking rich, cariño.” His eyes glint like knife licks, and he plants his hand indignantly against his chest, jutting up his chin. Puffing up his chest and making his body all angles. Protecting himself. “That’s really what you think of me, huh?” You try to look away from him, but his eyes chase you for an answer. 

Is it? Is that what you genuinely think of your best friend? Is that what you think he’s done to you? Tried to do? 

If so, no wonder you’re so fucking angry. No wonder your body is trembling with it. 

But the truth is, when pushed on it, you have no intelligible retort you can form. No evidence you can offer. So, instead, in your panic over losing ground, you opt to minimise. You throw your hand up dismissively and you turn on your heel, stomping towards your door at the end of the hall. “Fuck this.”

This time, his footsteps do not follow, even if you can still feel his eyes boring into your back. You think that might even be the end of things, until…

“No,” he sounds. A forceful, robust note which fills the whole hallway. A command to wait. This isn’t over. 

With you and him, it’s never going to be over, is it? 

You turn towards him and he is fixed in position, stance set wide and chin dipped down, eyes blackened half moons as he looks at you. “Just let me get this straight. If I’m the one who drags you back in? What the shit do you call what you just did?”

You scoff. “You were a very willing participant, Pope. Or, I dunno. Why don’t you just consider it payback for all the times you fucked me around?” 

He’s biting words back as he listens to you now. You can see them, in the tilt of his head and the flare of his nostrils. In the flip and curl of his tongue settled around his upper lip, dragging back and forth just below his filtrum. “Revenge, then? Really? Is that what this weekend has been about for you? You really that vindictive?”

“No. Don’t be ridiculous.” You dismiss him again, as though not one of his complaints about you can possibly be valid. Or, rather, revealing you are currently unwilling to admit it even if they are. After all, you’re as stubborn as he is. Each of you trying so desperately to palm off the blame for how fucked up this became. 

Santiago paces towards you then, footfalls rhythmic and steady as he swallows the space between you in the hall. “Jesus. You don’t even give a shit, do you? Think I deserve to have my heart crushed into fucking dust?” 

Hot, angry tears spike at the corner of your eyes as you spit your words, jabbing his shoulder with your pointer finger. “Like you give a shit that I left?” 

His dense brows draw down, his whole face a grimace, his voice practically booming throughout the hallway, close enough that the sound of it rumbles in your chest. “I don’t know how else I can say it. I never wanted to lose you.”

“Yeah? Well you never fucking had to!”

Santiago is the one who turns from you now, pacing back in a loop, both hands lifting and dragging backward through his grizzled curls, flattening them to his head in disbelief. He rounds back to you, spittle glistening on his lower lip from his tirade. He’s waving his arms now, everything being thrown upward just like the hideous lurch in your stomach. “You’re the one who ran from this!”

Well, that’s the biggest pile of shit you ever heard. You fold your arms to your chest, becoming guarded and taut where he becomes more frenzied. “Oh ho ho,” you scoff. “Now that’s a grade A delusion, right there.” He mumbles something under his breath, shaking his head from side to side in a long, disbelieving drag. In denial. Still. “You’ve been running, Santiago. You’ve done nothing but run from this. Even the whole time I was right next to you. Especially then.”

He steps towards you, driving your body back into the door without making a scrap of contact with you. From the force of him alone. He leans his face in real close, his movements disconcertingly slow - cautious and deliberate. It’s not threatening – you don’t feel physically unsafe at all - but you can tell from the flare of his nostrils and that gunpowder glint in his eye that while his movements may be constrained, he’s still arming himself with a coming barrage. 

You flatten yourself – your back to the shut paneled door-  and Santiago lifts his hand, reaching up to you. Pincering your chin deceptively tenderly between his thumb and forefinger, making sure you look at him. “Right. And you’ve been so perfect, huh?” His eyes needle you, making it impossible for you to wheedle out of this one. To dismiss him. He’s making sure you take at least some accountability for your part in this. “Fucking other guys to get back at me? Insisting we keep it a secret? Pissing off to another fucking continent, two days early, by the way, before we’d even put things right?” You break eye contact, your vision of him blurred by wilful tears. He releases your chin from his grip then, but the space between you remains tight. Close, even as you feel a million miles from him. “Christ - it’s like you never fucking wanted this to work. Never believed I was worth it. How am I supposed to work with that?”

Hot, spiking tears spill over onto your cheeks. You scrub them away with a flattened palm but it still doesn’t slow them down. 

“Please,” you beg limply, shaking your head from side to side. You want him to stop this. You just want this to be over. 

“I was never the guy someone would bring home to their mama, was I? Too fucked up and too broken for that? Hands too bloody, right, to be good enough for you?” You balk audibly in protest at his words, but even so, it sends a hot flash of heat to your cheeks. 

Is there some truth in it? 

Had you been afraid of what he’d done, even though the blood on his hands matches yours? Or… maybe because of it? 

Your lower lip begins to tremble as the ire in Santiago’s eyes burns you, hot like coals. But he has more to say. “I get it. It’s easier to blame me for everything that got fucked up, right?” He beats his palm emphatically against his chest and flattens it there. “I’m hardly a fucking Saint, I’ll admit that much. But do you honestly think that I ever wanted to hurt you? That this doesn’t fucking hurt me?” 

No. You want to say “no”. No. That’s not what you believe at all, but instead the words that find their way out are cruel and petty. “Well you did. You hurt me!” 

You wish you could get rid of it, this anger in your chest. You only want to love him… but you tried that, and since it didn’t work, it somehow feels like the anger is all you have left to fill this hole in your middle.

His eyes tighten, and Santiago jabs his finger back and forth, his voice hoarse as he pushes the words out from the pit of his chest. “It never mattered, what I did or didn’t do. It was never going to be good enough for you.” 

“That’s not true. At all!” You spit back. “It’s you who thought that. Not me. Not me. You wouldn’t even fucking try.”  

Santiago scrubs a tear away from his own cheek now. His voice creaks and cracks apart. “I tried. I did. But you only want me under certain conditions right. If I quit. If I get out. Maybe if I’m someone fucking else.”

“That’s not fair, that’s not how it is. For fuck’s sake, Santi.”

You are both entirely undone now with this ugly rage, tears wetting your cheeks, and this resentment and blame twisting your words and your faces into something unrecognisable. 

That makes it all the worse when Frankie’s torso pokes out of his door in the hallway. You know that the two of you are not yourselves. Frankie’s face twists with disappointment and concern in equal measure, and you fold your arms across your chest defensively, feeling embarrassed that he is seeing you this way. At your worst. Why do you and Santiago always seem to bring out the worst in each other? You’d swear blind to anyone that he’s the best person you know. 

“Guys. What the fuck?” Frankie ventures. His voice is grogged by sleep, and you get the feeling he would step out into the hall if he wasn’t entirely nude behind the door frame. 

Feeling suddenly ashamed, with the contrasting softness of Frankie’s eyes on yours, you feel the urge to run from yourself and what you’ve become, all twisted up like this. You push past Santiago in the hallway, storming down the stairs as tears now cascade freely down your cheeks. You don’t even make an attempt to mop them up now, letting them course down and drip from the point of your chin. 

Then, with an aggravated sigh, Santiago follows you too, in pursuit, despite Frankie’s barked pleas that he “leave it alone, cabrón”. 

You push out of the threshold and into the night, the cooler air a welcome relief. You pace away from the house, wanting to leave it, to leave him entirely, but your body will not let you. Will not carry you far enough away, and your steps quickly run out of steam. 

When Santiago finds you, you are stood with your back to him, looking out towards the white crash of waves. He comes and stands next to you, hands gently clenched by his sides. 

“Look,” he begins, staring out at the expanse of water. You feel your anger cresting and with it comes a wave of sadness. “I love you. But maybe you’re right. Maybe… we’re not good for each other. Maybe we just… can’t make each other happy.” 

You shake your head softly. Tip your eyes to the sky to stave off yet more tears. “I just wish we’d never changed things.” You wish more than anything that you could simply swallow it. Go back to how things were before. 

“Don’t,” Santi implores, turning to you with his hands cupped as though in offering, soft and haphazard and trying to catch on your elbow, your shoulder, your hand. “Don’t say that. Please. No matter how fucked this got… You’re the best thing I ever-” 

But, your anger is not done. Your palms raise in the air, forming a barrier between your bodies - a defence against his brutal love - and you snatch yourself away from him. Your voice is once again harsh as it rings in accusation, words tearing from your lips like bullets. “-Let go?”

There is a beat. 

“Seriously. You’re gonna stand there and tell me I could I have fucking stopped you?” 

You raise your palms and plant them to your face, splayed fingers tugging in disbelief from your temples, sliding down to your mouth - drawing your cheeks into a grimace. You look at him and his face is once again taut with blame. His mouth a thin, downturned line. But even now….. Somehow, even now, you want to kiss him. Want to kiss him until he is soft again, like you know he can be. 

Why would he never turn soft for you - not all the way? Soft in your arms? Why would he never? 

He shifts his weight from foot-to-foot under your scrutiny. He sees the anger melt away from your face, but his is not done. “I mean, fuck. What do you want from me, huh? You want me to come with you? Just drop everything?” 

“Just stop, Santi,” you plead, weakly, but there’s no way he heard you over his own tirade.

“My whole career. This shit I’ve got going on with Lorea. Pick-up and move here? Huh? Tell me? What do you want from me?” 

You fold your arms across your chest, closing yourself off to him. “Please, just drop it.” 

“You want me to have dinners with you and your family on Sundays? Take the nephews to the playpark, huh?” 

He won’t stop. He won’t stop talking, stop pushing you, and you can’t take it. You’re going to snap. 

“Go fucking grocery shopping? And get married and have babies and-?” 

“Yes!” you finally yell, your whole body craning forward as you fire your answer out through your throat, the word coming out scuffed and sudden; but nothing if not truthful. Your eyes go wide, quivering with tears as well as the shock of your revelation. The shock of revealing something you can barely even admit to yourself. 

That is what you want. With him. 

Santiago is evidently as shocked as you are too. Stunned into silence, in fact. He takes a perceptible step back from you, punching out a breath like he’s just been struck with a body shot. All the tension drops from his limbs, and his arms flop uselessly to his sides.

But, instead of backtracking, from somewhere, somehow, you finally find the courage to stand in your truth. “Yes,” you say shakily. “I want that, you asshole.” And, at those words, you interpret the most repulsive thing you’ve seen in his eyes all night. Pity. “And you, meanwhile? You’d rather get shot in the guts than do that with me, wouldn’t you? Something so mundane as being happy? Something so fucking worthless as loving me?” You tear your head away from him, whip your gaze away as you cannot bear to look at him. Cannot bear to see your true wants rejected. With a final question, you stab your pointer finger against your sternum with enough force that it hurts. “I’m not a mission, so I’m not worth it right? Not important?”

He shoves his hands in his back pockets, his gaze dropping to the floor, to a neutral spot between you. His voice all but cracks apart, small and broken. “I told you that I love you.” 

“That wasn’t enough!” You bite your words off before you can even think, and his eyes snap back up to yours then. Wounded. Glassy. You regret the words as soon as you have spoken them, but it is far too late to recall them now. You can see that they cut him - and you can even understand why they would hurt. What an awful thing to have said, you think; that his love wasn’t enough. 

It was everything. 

Everything. 

Wasn’t it? 

Even so, here you stand, still waiting and hoping that he can offer you something more than that alone. A solution, perhaps. A way to fix this. 

Instead though, Santiago simply nods slowly. Contemplatively. In resignation. He stands eerily still. Eerily quiet. Entirely stoic. “Right. Well.” His hand rasps back and forth over his stubble, and his voice is entirely sunken. Defeated. He’s a soldier. Your friend. Your lover. But most of all, now he’s someone who appears to have stopped fighting for you. He looks you in the eye, all of his anger dissipated. Voice scrubbed clean and entirely dispassionate. “That’s too bad then. Because I don’t have anything else I can give you.”

He turns from you now, and you grab onto his arm. “Believe me. The only thing I ever wanted from you… With you, was a future, Santiago.”  

It breaks your heart when he quietly, slowly extricates his arm from your grasp, slipping through your fingers like fine sands. Did you really think that you could do that? That you could keep on pushing him, without eventually pushing him away? 

A divot notches in his brow. “Mmm-hmm. Well I guess we fucked any shot at that now, didn’t we?” 

You search his ashen eyes - almost in desperation - for some of that all too familiar fire. For any sort of spark for you. 

Godammit, as soon as the anger has gone, you want it back. You want something; only because it seems a damn sight better than nothing at all. 

You can’t handle it - the thought that any future with him is being taken off of the table once and for all. You know - if you step back from this - that you’ve been far from perfect. That you’ve been bitter, volatile, reactive. Maybe even cruel, at times. You know, in truth, that you shouldn’t be so hung up on the past -on what happened all those months ago and beyond- but it’s the only thing Santiago has ever given you to dwell on. How were you supposed to move on, when he’s never been able to look ahead with you?

Still, all of a sudden, being faced with any and all possibilities of a future with him being ripped away from you, it is all you want to talk about. The past and your grievances and the blame now seem wholly irrelevant. You feel bile rise into your mouth. “Listen. It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. Just… How do we get past this, Santiago? That’s what matters.”

He stops, halting his retreat back to the house. He turns, slowly. And, Santiago takes your hands into each of his. Looks at you solemnly, as your eyes flit over his face in doubt and fear and regret. He bundles your hands up together, sandwiching them together between his warm, steady palms and he gives them a squeeze - full of finality. “Maybe… Maybe we don’t,” he sounds, flatly, voice scrubbed clean of emotion. And, the only thing worse than hearing his words out loud, is that he looks like he believes them. 

For once, Santiago “Pope” Garcia seems cold, and it hurts more than any of his fire has ever burnt you. Maybe the anger, horrible as it feels, is better. Because it is better than nothing. Better than losing him altogether. 

After all, what is it that happens when the fire goes out? 

Well, you suddenly feel like you’re about to find out. 

You suddenly feel like it’s truly about to be over. 

And so, you clasp your hands over your mouth and you sob, fleeing towards the interior of the house, because you have no place else left to run but away from him.

[lily-blue]

Baby, we’re more alike than you think

☆ characters: rich kid!eunwoo & rich kid!you ☆ genre: rich kids au, college au ☆ warnings: bullying, implication of sexual assault (it crosses the reader’s mind at one point, but doesn’t happen for real) ☆ request: DV24. form this prompt list ☆ summary: Eunwoo doesn’t like to be cornered, so he turns the tables and leaves you with no other option but to beg for his mercy ☆ words: 1,4k ☆ dedicated to: @dat-town​​ ♥

Most people would have called you an idiot for pretending that you weren’t part of one of the most influential families in your country - in a prestigious university, no less -, but you liked having friends who liked you for who you were rather than for how much your father’s company was worth, hence you couldn’t stop the act.

It had started out completely unintentionally, though; you had sat next to this cute brunette on your first day of university and seeing the Demon Slayer keychain dingling on her bag, you had asked her about her favourite character since you were also a fan. You had hit it off right from the start - as soon as Yuqi had picked the Water Hasihra whom you, too, had a soft spot for -, and in-between lectures and seminars, you had slowly discovered at least half a dozen things you had in common. You had never become friends with someone so cool so easily. It had felt like it had been written in the stars.

Considering that you two had many things to talk about, obviously your financial situation or family background hadn’t come up immediately. And if you had wanted to be honest, you had preferred it that way. However, the difference between your lives had become painfully obvious when entering the university canteen, some spoiled brats had felt the need to push Yuqi’s tray out of her hand and her on the ground. Their reason? It had been to put her back to her place and simultaneously humiliate her for being on scholarship.

Your throat had closed up as the realisation had hit you, but you quickly regained your cool. You could have easily put an end to the harrassment if you had introduced yourself properly - being the youngest child and the only daughter in your family, you hadn’t been shown off to the public yet -, but one look at the anger on your friend’s face had said it all: Yuqi wouldn’t have appreciated a rich kid’s help. On the contrary! She might have given up on you and your friendship altogether before you could have formed a strong enough bond. So you had said nothing.

Instead, you had crouched down beside your friend and helped her up, dragging her out of the canteen, all the way to a more secluded part of the campus. You hadn’t talked a word about her scholarship, but you had let her vent about the entitled nepo babies of your country and in a matter of mere months, you two had become the loudest spokespersons on the injustice in your university.

Being a Communication major, your assigned role was to write juicy, exposing articles about your fellow university students who abused their family’s power and while most of the time you were well-hidden in the shadows, behind your laptop, sometimes you had to put yourself out there to investigate. This was how you ended up in an empty tutoring room on the second floor of your school’s library with Cha Eunwoo whose lackeys had left the two of you alone as soon as the young heir had told them to.

‘Give me your phone!’ The boy demanded and while a teeny-tiny part of your brain was aware that you should have been more afraid, you were too pissed to do as he said. The only people who could boss you around were your parents and grandparents and even them rarely did so. Who was he to think you were his servant?

‘You mistake me for those losers. I don’t have to do anything you tell me to,’ you reminded him with a scoff, your perfectly made locks bouncing as you put your whole chest into this disrespectful, lowkey mocking gesture. You didn’t break eye contact. In fact! You kept your chin high.

‘I don’t like repeating myself,’ Eunwoo said, his facial expression so cold, you could feel the chill it sent down your spine when he took a step closer to you. However, you were your father’s daughter and despite your poor-girl-act, you had pride.

You linked your arms in front of your chest and let a lopsided grin adorn your rose-tinted lips.

‘Look at that. We actually have something in common,’ you mocked, enjoying the smallest cracks on his mask even though it didn’t take long for him to hold onto his self-control. He had clearly moved in the same circles as you would have done if your parents hadn’t been so protective over you.

Your grip tightened around your phone a little when Eunwoo took another step closer to you, but you refused to show how intimidated you really felt until your back hit one of the white walls. Because then… then you gulped. And that was a telltale sign, blood in the water. Just like a shark, the boy seemed ready to tear you to pieces.

‘Oh, we have a lot more in common than you let your pathetic little friends in on,’ Eunwoo said while he brushed a stray lock behind your ear. His touch was burning even though his finger barely grazed your jawline. 

He leaned closer, so that his lips were right next to your earshell. Your heart was beating in your throat.

‘You like airing our dirty laundry, don’t you? How about we do that to yours. Wouldn’t you like that?’ He taunted you, his voice barely above a whisper and yet, at that moment it felt like he was talking into a microphone. A loudspeaker. ‘One more thing in common.’

He knew. Cha Eunwoo knew that you were faking it.

He knew and he enjoyed his leverage on you, which made your blood boil.

‘Fuck off,’ you pushed the boy further with both of your hands, but after the initial surprise faded, you lost your adventage. He invaded your personal space once again, effortlessly.

Eunwoo squeezed your cheeks, your lips puckering all sulkily.

‘Ah-ah. Let’s do something about that mouth of yours,’ he taunted you and for a second, by the way he was staring at your lips, you thought he would kiss you.

You yelped when he dug his fingers into the soft flesh in the crook of your neck and pushed you on your knees. What was happening? Would he… you tried to turn your head away, but  his grip was too firm. Would he force you to suck him off in the library? He wouldn’t have, would he?

‘Start to beg. And don’t forget to kiss my feet while you’re at it,’ Eunwoo said and while his demand was outrageous, the relief you felt when you realised that he didn’t intend to rape you outpowered your annoyance.

Actually, you were so caught up in your slowly dissolving fright and the reassurance that his covered crotch in front of your face was a mere consequence of your heights that you lost touch with reality for a second.

Why were you kneeling in front of him? What had he said? 

‘Beg for what?’ You asked, more confused than anything, which earned an eye roll from the boy. He crouched down in front of you and shook his head as though he was disappointed, as if you should have cared what he was thinking about you.

‘To keep your secret, of course. Though, if you want something else, too… Well, I might give it to you if you’re asking for it nicely,’ he shot a disgusting grin at you, smug and suggestive, which made you want to spit at his face.

You almost did so.

‘Go to hell,’ you mumbled under your nose, finally able to look away with his hand off your body. Still, it didn’t make you feel less caged. His closeness in itself chained you to the wall, and you hated it.

You hated him.

You hated that even though he knew who you were it didn’t shield you from his cruelty. That he didn’t give two damns about your family, but could use them against you at the same time.

‘Your friend works in the school library in her free time, doesn’t she? Should I go and find her?’ He asked, clearly amused and you bit into your lower lip to suppress another curse. He was clearly unaffected by your words and you really shouldn’t have risked pissing him off for real, should you?

As much as you would have liked to tell him to feel free to look for Yuqi and leave you the fuck alone, a part of you knew the girl would have hated you not only for lying, but for being rich as well. There was no way she would have forgiven you if Eunwoo had aired your dirty laundry and you loved Yuqi.

The possibility of losing her made your hand shake. When Eunwoo stood up and nudged your shin with his foot, you pressed your lips together and bowed.

You refused to let him see your tears fall when your lips touched his designer shoe.

the end.

[dumbass-duo-showdown]

DUMBASS DUO SHOWDOWN ROUND 3 BATTLE 1

MONKEY D LUFFY & RORONOA ZORO (aka zolu) VS SHAWN SPENCER & GUS

PROPAGANDA

ZOLU

I could rant about them for actual hours but like it's so hard to put thoughts down. But literally an actual quote was someone telling Zoro that "you promised you wouldn't cause trouble" and Zoro replies, EXACT WORDS, "I had no choice because I ran into Luffy." There was also an exchange where Zoro was giving Luffy food and Luffy warns him it might be poison while eating it and Zoro is just like "huh, so that's why my stomach was hurting". They also both swung from vines once and BOTH decided to Tarzan yell. They agreed it was a requirement. Also, Luffy once said he didn't wanna be a hero because heros would share their meat and he wants all of it, and Zoro entirely separately says the SAME THING BUT WITH BOOZE INSTEAD. There are so many examples of them sharing a single braincell. More than I could ever list. But those are the examples I thought of off the top of my head.

On the surface, Zoro seems to have some common sense, and only follows Luffy’s dumb schemes out of respect. Then Nami joins and you realize that Zoro’s seriousness IS his dumbassedness. He and Luffy have one track minds for their own goals and wants, and while they may clash, they have a decent amount of respect for each other.

haven’t finished one piece yet but one example: zoro when stuck figured cutting off his feet would be a genius idea and luffy is luffy. there’s never any thoughts going on in that head

When I first started One Piece I thought Zoro was going to be the badass smart counterpart to the dumbass protagonist just like Vegeta or Sasuke. Turns out I couldn't be more wrong. Him and Luffy are besties and share one brain cell and even thou Zoro uses it most of the time it's still one.

They share one single braincell at the same time: after being seriously injured in a battle, one wakes up to drink sake the other to eat meat. One almost cut a Noble (which means being pursued til death by the most powerful marines), the other actually punches said Noble. One gest stuck between buildings, the other inside a chimney for absolutely unrelated reasons

Their solution to everything is to fight it. They never have a plan and just rush into everything. Somehow they are technically the leaders of the group as captain and first mate. They have both at some point attempt to cut or tear their legs or arms off to get out something. They used the same metaphor to explain why they aren’t a hero without hearing the other say it (a hero would share their meat/booze I want to keep it all to myself).

they said let us cut/punch a hole trough a giant tsunami and they did it <3 also one time they were suppossed to lay low, but well they both immediately started robbing and attacking a town and being recognized and labeled as criminals in a new country. they don't even share a braincell, whatever braincell they had before immediately leave as soon as they both are together, also King of the Pirates and World Greatest Swordsman dreamteam, also for lasagne thing not only would the house be gone, the city be burning and they are fleeing the police while also fighting the police

They're just soooo stupid. Zoro can't walk to steps without getting lost. So Luffy will yank him miles through the air to land on wood. Or stone. Or some other hard substance. Luffy would fight someone on accident for meat. And Zoro for booze. And they have no brain cells between them. Zoro new Luffy for approx. 3 seconds before he decided he would die for him. And Luffy heard about this big scary bounty hunter who was captured by marines and went. I need him on my crew. They're perfect for each other.

I dont where to begin. One of their latest feats though is them going into the enemy base, Meaning to sneak in, Luffy went in after another guy, Zoro after Luffy, luffy then Announced himself, started a fight bc ppl wasted food on purpose, ZORO hearing a commotion, SLICED THROUGH A BUILDING TO GET TO LUFFY AND THEN REPRIMANDED LUFFY FOR FORGETTING THE PLAN AND BEING UNABLE TO BE QUIET. THEN. T H E N LUFFY SAYS HE SPILT FOOD ON PURPOSE AND ZORO IS INSTANT LIKE oh ok. They gotta die. (Theres more to it but thats the gist. And thats not even. Much. They r just so stupid together <33)

they both get lost very easily, they will throw hands with anyone, very stupid but very understanding, were a 2 person pirate crew that sailed around on a rowboat, motivated entirely by fighting, meat, and sake, neither is particularly literate one time luffy got his hand stuck in a bottle and zoro tried to get it out by cutting his hand off, yes this happened in a canon episode

look, I have a tag for them that's literally #pair of idiots.

Gus & Shawn

They’ve been friends canonically since at least 3 years old and at the start of the show they’re I wanna say 30 maybe? And yet these two grown men are THE most chaotic idiots (affectionate) in the whole show (and let’s be real anywhere). The entire show in fact hinges on the idea that they’re dumbasses and WILL get into carat shenanigans. Episode examples include the one where they are investigating an alien abduction, the one where they’re looking for big foot, the vampire one, all of these by the way they hundred percent believe to be true until they themselves unwillingly prove otherwise. And maybe the most dumbass moment of all time, when Gus finds his boss dead and instead of calling the cops he gets his dna ALL OVER THE CRIME SCENE, calls Shane to help clean up and Shawn gets HIS DNA ALL OVER THE CRIME SCENE AS WELL!!!! Truly cannot think of a worse reaction to finding a dead body. They’ve been sucking that single brain cell that exists between them dry for over 3 decades now and they show no signs of stopping.

they are such idiots (affectionate) and they can't live without each other

they are. so stupid. both of them can be smart in their own ways but when you put them together the dumb best friends energy is unmatched. they are platonic soulmates pretending that shawn has psychic powers and solve crimes by dicking around and somehow always coming out alive. they accidentally befriend the criminals they’re supposed to be investigating constantly. they’re always one step away from being fired or arrested bc of their dumbassery

the entire show is literally shawn pretending to be a psychic (← dumbass behavior) and gus aiding and abetting him and actively a dumbass as well

If you have seen even a single episode of this show, you know these two fools are the best duo ever. Constantly bantering theough 80s movie references and animal like noises, most often above a dead body, these two bring unique different dummy energy that both brings each other up and builds up their own skills along the way. I will love these two men until the day I die and they deserve an honest chance to be the best dumbass duo of all time!

[siampie]

Get Off the Highway || Chapter 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 2.7 k 

Warnings/tags: Enemies to lovers trope, angst, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome

A/N: Alright, I hope this chapter makes sense to people. It does to me but I somehow feel as though it is convoluted. And maybe it is but I hope you love it anyway. And hopefully, it’s still believable in the Supernatural universe.

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Dividers by @cafekitsune

“Dude, what the hell was that?” Sam glared at his brother.

“The truth.” Dean shrugged. Sam just gave a deadpanned look. “Come on, Sammy. Do you seriously believe that the kid is cut out for hunting?”

“She did save your life before in that vampire nest. So, I’d say yes, she is.” Sam started after his brother. “Seriously, what’s your problem with her?”

“My problem is she doesn’t look like a hunter, Sam.” Dean fished his keys out of his pockets. “And she sure as hell doesn’t act like one.” Sam sighed and shook his head. “And who the hell doesn’t drink on a weekday? After a hunt?”

“Seriously, Dean?”

“What? That’s how most hunters celebrate after a hunt.” Dean reminded him. “What does she think? That she’s above us?”

“She never said that.”

“Yeah, well, she didn’t need to.” He climbed in the driver’s seat. Sam pushed out a sigh before getting in the car.

You slammed the door to your motel room behind you. Your throat was clogged up, tears rushed out of your eyes. You dropped on your bed and stopped the first onslaught of sobs by pressing your hands against your mouth. Your body racked with sobs, but you remained quiet. Not wanting anyone to hear. For which you berated yourself for, no one could hear you anyway because you were alone.

They weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of frustration and anger. You did not know how else to let out those emotions. You didn’t cry out of anger all the time. But it did happen at times. Most of the time, those tears were out of frustration. Frustration at how you had failed tonight. Frustration at how you let your fears overcome you. Frustration at how mad he sounded when he yelled at you.  

You hated yelling.

“Stop being so overdramatic.” You wiped at your eyes furiously. “There is no reason for you to cry about this. Why are you like this?” You took in a shaky breath. “You’re okay. It’s okay.” Your hand rubbed at your chest, over your heart. As though, you were soothing the ache. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

After a few minutes of repeating those words to yourself as a chant, your tears had died down. You washed your face and you did the only thing you could do. You took your focused back on the hunt. Dean Winchester was wrong. You knew what you were doing. And yes, you may have messed up but you were going to fix it. Like you always did.

The monster that attacked you was not a werewolf. Neither was it a skinwalker. It was something completely different, something you had never faced before. You opened your laptop and worked the case back from square one.

You took in consideration that the victims had all been attacked and bound before they died. Which you still didn’t understand why because that creature didn’t seem as though it needed its victim to be neutralized. It was quite powerful on its own. So, why restrained its victims?

While researching, you chased away any thoughts you may have about the Winchesters. Especially Dean. You didn’t understand why he disliked you so much. You had not done anything to him. You had remained polite and cordial when you first met. Nothing had happened that you could remember, that may have soured his opinion of you. To the point where instead of comforting you after you almost died, he snapped at you. Acting like an asshole.

“Leave this to us before you get yourself killed.” You grumbled under your breath. “Like you know better than I do. I saved your life and now, you’re talking to me like I’m a kid. What a gaping asshole!” You let out a frustrated sigh, tears pressing against your eyes. “It’s okay. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You’re going to prove him wrong. Make him eat his words.”

And eat his word, he would.

You stayed up all night to research for a monster that would feed on hearts, that wouldn’t be a werewolf or a skinwalker. And the only thing you came across that could fit the bill, was from Egyptian mythology. A creature that was called Ammit, the Devourer of the Dead. It fit the bill but you still had your doubts. You did not get a good look at it and it was dark out. You weren’t sure that the creature resembled the drawings that portrayed Ammit. However, it could explain why the victims needed to be restrained for Ammit to feed on them.

Ammit, also known as the Devourer of the Dead, was believed to be a demon rather than a deity. During the Judgment of Dead, the heart of the deceased was weighed against the feather of Ma’at, the goddess of truth. If the heart was weighted less than the feather, they were ruled to be pure and allowed to enter paradise. If their heart was weighted more than the feather, they were ruled to be impure and their heart would be devoured by Ammit. Leaving them without a soul and to wander in Limbo. Stuck between the world of the living and the dead. Restless in eternity.

You knew the victims were still alive when their hearts had been ripped from their chests. You just didn’t know why or who would do this? And that was what you needed to find out. So, on no sleep and a pounding headache, you knocked on the door of the first victim’s house. You wanted to know more about the victims, know more about their last days, their habits. Knowing more about them would give you more insight as to why they were killed.

The victims were around the same age and being in the same small town, that could only mean they had grown up together. It seemed that other the years they had grown apart. So, nothing was linking them to one another before their deaths. One of the victim’s friend had even mention a falling out. But did not mention anything more than that. Nevertheless, you had found a pamphlet for an exhibit at the local museum. An ancient Egyptian exhibition. Which only reinforced your belief that Ammit was the monster that killed those people.

You made a quick stop to the local café; your sleepless night was catching up to you. You were struggling to keep your eyes open and your yawning to a minimum. You needed some help to keep your eyes open for the rest of the day. Especially since you were planning to go at the ancient Egyptian exhibit.

With your much needed coffee in hand, sunglasses back on your face, you walked out of the local café. You had barely made it out when your elbow was roughly grabbed by none other than Dean Winchester. The rage you had felt towards him had dwindled through the day but seeing him now, your frustration and anger flared back up.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You ripped your elbow from his grasp and glared at him, from behind your dark tinted glasses. “Enjoying my coffee. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You’re still working the case.” He retorted, jaw clenched and glaring at you.

You took a sip from your cup. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She doesn’t—” Dean let out a frustrated sigh. “Listen, Princess, we are working the case and you talking to the vics’ families ain’t making things easy for us.”  

You gave it a beat, playing with the lid of your cup. “I fail to see how this is my problem, Bucko. I mean how could I do such a thing? Clearly, you and your brother are professionals. Me talking to them shouldn’t get in the way, now, should it?” You took a step back away from them, “After all, you said it yourself, I don’t know what I’m doing.” You turned away from them and walked up to your car.

“It would be easier if we were working the case together, you know.” Sam suggested, following you. “Instead of getting in each other’s way.”

You fished out your keys. “Your brother wouldn’t agree to this.” You looked over at Dean, he was glaring at you still. “And frankly, I’d rather shoot myself in the foot than work with him. Best of luck to both of you.”

The exhibit was mostly about funerary rituals. Coincidentally, the first kill happened a few days after the exhibit had started. Meaning that the creature had come with the exhibit. Thanks to the guide, you learned that this was the first time the exhibit was put together by a young professor; Amanda Carlisle. She had gone out of town to college a few years back and made it big. She’d come back to make her hometown the first to see the exhibit she put together. Her parents were proud, and so was the whole town.  

Unfortunately, as you moved to speak to the professor in question, two giants that stood out like sore thumbs in the middle of this exhibit, were already speaking with her. You glared at Dean as he sent a smug smile your way. Clearly, he was happy that he was one step ahead of you this time. You puffed out a frustrated sigh, you would not turn this into a competition with the Winchesters. Not if you could help it. You had much more important things to do.  

Professor Carlisle was welcomed upon her return. A small-town girl that went to a prestigious college and came back successful. Plus, she was letting her home town benefit from that success of hers. Sharing the glory, so to speak. The victims were around her age too. Some may have been older of a few years but they were all around the same age. The victims and the professor had gone to school together. They might even have been friends. Except, they weren’t.

The best thing about small town was that everyone knew one another, and words got around fast. And it wouldn’t be too hard to get information from some the people, especially those who couldn’t wait to gossip. And boy, did they have a lot to tell you.

Amanda Carlisle was always a straight A student; it was no surprise for anyone that she would go far in life. But Amanda was never the popular kid. If her parents, her teachers and the rest of the town were proud of her, the other kids in her school did not exactly love her. You never quite understood the concept of bullying or why it happened. Was it jealousy or insecurity? Was it just because they didn’t like who she was or how she presented? No one really knew. However, it was clear for many people and known by the general public, they made her life a living hell.

And this was her revenge.

The shrill sound of your ringtone brutally pulled you out of your sleep. You blindly reached out for your phone on your bedside table.

“Yeah?” You answered groggily without checking the caller ID first. Your name was said on the other side of the line. “Sam? What’s going on?” You sat up, rubbing your eyes.

“I need your help.”

“And I don’t know what I’m doing.” You hissed at Sam as both of you walked to the back door of the museum.

“Seriously?” Sam turned to you.

“What? I’m allowed.” You talked back. “He gave me crap for being attacked. And now, he’s the one who got abducted. Don’t you think it’s a little ironic?”

Sam sighed. “It might be but—he wasn’t entirely wrong.”

You rounded on him, glaring. “Good luck on finding your brother—alone.”

“Okay, okay—” He stopped you from walking away. “He was wrong for yelling at you but I mean, you gotta admit that was pretty reckless on your part.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Yeah, well, not everyone has the luxury to have a hunting partner like you and your brother do.”

The growls of the creature reached your ears as you got closer to the office. The rattling of chains and muffled voices could be heard through the door that had been left ajar. Sam and you glanced at each other, grabbing your guns. Sam reached for the Ram’s horn in his bag, securing it. He had told you they already faced an Egyptian deity in the past, and the Ram’s horn had incapacitated the deity. With no real lore on how to stop Ammit, you went with his suggestion.

Dean was bound to a large table in the middle of the room. Ammit was held in a cage while Amanda looked at her lovingly.

“Let’s step away from the demon.” You aimed your gun at the professor. “And keep your hands where I can see them.”

Amanda turned to you slowly, wearing a smirk on her face. “I got him exactly where I want him.” She said as her eyes moved away from you over to Dean. “I know what he did to you.” Her eyes moved back to you. “He humiliated you, yelled at you. He deserves what’s coming to him.”

“Like they all did, right?” You countered.

“The poor girl tried to survive the aftermath of her humiliation but she couldn’t.” You frowned at her words. “She was too weak. She needed me. And so do you.”

With a flick of her hand, she opened the cage and unleashed Ammit. The demon pounced on you, tackling you to the ground. You fired your gun as you fell backwards. The wind got knocked out of your lungs. Ammit’s breath hit your face as you tried to push her away. Your gun had been knocked out of your hands.

“SAM,” You called, your voice strained. Ammit reared back as Sam stabbed it in the back. The demon writhed in pain, falling to the ground. Dean had been freed, was now fighting off Amanda. She shoved Dean away, his back hit one of the walls. Sam aimed his gun at her, without even lifting a finger, the gun flew out of Sam’s hands. She marched onto him, furious. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and lifted him off of the ground. You turned to the creature on the ground, she was still writhing in pain. You moved to take out the Ram’s horn from her back.

“This is all your fault.” Amanda grabbed your shoulders as you turned to face her. She was furious, enraged. “I was trying to help you.”

“Yeah, I didn’t ask for it.” And you stabbed her in the neck with the Ram’s horn. Her eyes shone with purple lights, her body suddenly and quickly decaying, turning into a mummy, before she fell to the ground. And the demon vanished into thin air.

You threw your bag in the passenger seat, Sam and Dean were standing behind you. Sam cleared his throat before he nudged his brother.

“Look—”

“Don’t bother.” You shoved your hands in your pockets. “It’s already forgiven.”

“What?” Dean scrunched up his eyebrows.

“You were going to apologize, right?”

“Apologize for what?” Dean asked back.

“Oh, I don’t know, Bucko.” You shook your head. “Maybe for yelling at me in the woods. How about that?”

“So what? You can’t handle a little yelling?”

“I can handle yelling. Doesn’t mean I have to. Especially, after I almost got killed.” You glared at him.

“Well, someone has to tell you when you’re screwing up.” Dean stepped closer to you. “And you screwed up that night.”

“For the love of Aphrodite, you think you know better than me, don’t you?”

“Oh, Princess, I know better than you.” Dean continued. “And let me tell you, you’re not—”

“Alright, enough,” Sam placed himself between you and his brother. “Seriously—” Sam put a hand on your shoulder. “Thanks for your help.”

“You’re welcome.” You smiled at the youngest Winchester. “At least, one of you is appreciative.” You turned to Dean with a smirk. “Can’t say the same for everyone.” Dean rolled his eyes, letting out a groan. “Anyway, I gotta fly. And words of advice, you should do the same.”

Sam pulled you in a quick hug, catching you by surprise. “Call if you need anything.”

“Yeah, will do.” You smiled at him as he pulled away. You sent a nod Dean’s way. “Bucko.”

“Princess.” He answered in kind.

You climbed in your truck and drove off.

“You know I gotta give it to her.” Dean started as he and his brother walked to the Impala.

“What?”

“She ain't that bad."

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[bobeni]

  ⠀   ⠀   ⠀ ‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎O23 ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ፧ ‎ ‎EGGS AISLE ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏♡ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎

✶ users! › denji, m!reader.

✶ synopsis! › it could no longer be simply considered a coincidence; with how denji always seemed to pop up at the same time, at the same little store, just to see you.

✶ wrdcnt! › 1,586.

✶ cw’s! › fluff, possible ooc here we go, simp denji, trio stuff in the beginning, this is probably unnecessarily long lmao. i used they/them for the reader for one line, btw.

“Aw crap, we’re out of cereal and milk again! I’ma head out to the store to get some more!” Denji shouted as he zipped past two lazy bodies to the front door, snatching his hoodie off the rack with poorly disguised eagerness.

Aki sighed, looking up from the creased daily newspaper. “Again? That’s the third time this month.” His orbs followed Denji’s haste movements to shrug on the clothing.

The blond barely spared him a glance as he tried to fix his bedhead, “Yeah, yeah, I know, right? It’s bogus how Power keeps eating it all.” He feigned understanding just as said girl squawked at the blame now delivered to her shoulders. “What the fuck? I haven’t even touched the cereal since two weeks ago!” She yelled, mouth full of her breakfast, unfortunately it was just amalgamation of bacon and eggs.

“Ya can’t fool me, Powy, I know you sneak around in the middle of night, scarfing that shit down.” The gobsmacked look on blonde’s face was one Denji could remember for centuries.

“You bi一” as she was prepared to scream her indignation, she was stopped in her tracks by Aki’s agitated groan, followed by Denji’s so-called reassurance.

“Don’t worry, though,” the boy flicked the lock open, stepping an inch outside the apartment with every syllable. “I’ll make sure to replenish your stash, so don’t wait up!” Denji grinned at that last part, officially saying his leave to the both of them, the door narrowly missing his behind with how fast he tried to shut it.

With the boy off and out, Aki’s eyes lingered on the door. But they began to narrow in suspicion, prompting him to rise from the coach and walk into the kitchen for further investigation.

However, his investigation ended as soon as it started. The man found not just one, but several boxes of cereal, moderately filled. As well as the milk, as far back in fridge as it was, half full. This made his face scrunch up in confusion as he shut the fridge and leaned against it to turn his attention to Power一who now had a lap full of Meowy, clearly had to have been ruffled by the morning ruckus and sauntered out of their bedroom.

“Power,” Aki started. She nodded in his direction, still stuffing her face. “We’re still good on breakfast一he’s not just ‘going to the store,’ is he?” He wondered aloud, sighing at the thought of Denji pulling some shit.

“Yes, see!” she jabbed a finger in the air, “He’s up to something. Something... I can assume is very stupid.” Then Power just pets a purring Meowy as Aki shakes his head at it all.

Geez, that was close, Denji thought as he strolled down the sidewalk. It was getting real tiring having to think excuses pertaining to various foods they did or didn’t have. Many apologies and more to his family, but he couldn’t let them know the reason why he had those excuses for where he was going一especially not Power, god, he’d probably never hear the end of it.

Oh, what was the reason exactly?

He has a crush.

That’s right, the reason why he began waking up early in the morning and trying to make sure not a single hair was out of place一well, in his own unique way一was because someone is after Denji’s heart. And he’d so let them take it if they pleased.

One day when it was actually his duty to do some shopping, at this little grocery store a few blocks down from his apartment, is where he met you.

He was only there to gather the items on the short list that Aki handed over to him that morning, but when you stepped up next to him while he was eying two freaky looking fish, and the shy offer for assistance flew out of your mouth, he found himself a bit touched.

“But you don’t even work here, though?” was what he said back then, now eying you.

“Do I have to work here in order to help out some clearly indecisive guy?” The little chuckle that you ended your rebuttal with was unfortunately cute enough that it made his heart jump in his chest. When you leaned over to help him pick the better fish, his heart was absolutely drumming at how close you were and how easily his hand could slip into yours.

He didn’t say a single word of complaint when you offered to help him finish up his shopping; he just let his cheeks burn a bright pink while he trailed behind you with two baskets and hearts for eyes.

After that day, every other week or so he’d pop up at the store, yearning to see you, while also juggling his best attempts to make his appearances look normal and coincidental.

It was a flawless plan in his mind. Every day you two seemed to be getting closer and closer; then soon, he couldn’t deny the hope that lingered.

Even if it should’ve been embarrassing一considering how easily he fell for you after only meeting a handful of times. But he couldn’t really find it in himself to give a fuck.

Denji smiled proudly, maybe he could finally get to do all the things couples do with you.

Meanwhile the blond was gushing, it didn't occur to him that had already arrived at the store until he heard that familiar bell’s jingle giving him the signal.

Then he let his eyes wander, searching the store trying to pick you out of the bustling crowd of shoppers. He stumbled upon right when he almost missed you; you were crouched down by a vending machine, mashing away at the buttons.

With a little bit of pep in his step, he made a b-line for you.

“Good mornin’, [name].” Denji jostled the keys in his pocket when he tried to wave. You looked up at the approach and softly smiled at him. “Hi there, Denji. You doing some shopping again?” you made casual conversation as you were inserting money into the slot. Pink dusted his cheeks as he immediately responded with no, in his head. But in real life he stuck with a shy confirmation and told you that he just needed some cereal.

But as you were prepared to say something else, you were interrupted by two bags of chips spilling out of the bottom.

“Holy shit, what did you do?” Denji was cackling at the surprise you exuded.

“I don’t even fucking know,” you chuckled, pushing yourself up from the ground. “But how perfect is this?” the smile on your face was too warm, too soft, he almost ignored the next words that came out of your mouth.

“One for me, and one for you, Denji.”

You held out a bag for him and he stared in disbelief.

“You’re... gonna share with me?” He hesitantly reached for the bag, awaiting your next answer.

Still smiling you told him exactly what he wanted to hear, “I’ll always split stuff with people I like. Obviously.”

Obviously, you said. You also said that he’s one of the people you like. Obviously.

He was so glad it was obvious to you because he clearly missed a chapter or two一but he didn’t care, this was what he was hoping for the entire time. Maybe he’s got it.

“[Name]...” Denji called as you were already munching on your bag of chips. You immediately caught his eye, humming as you wait for the moment the boy was ready to speak.

“I... I just want ya to know that I really, really like you.” The blond laid his heart out on the table. “And I wanna date you and一nd take you out someday...?” He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the chatter of civilians the longer you kept quiet. And he was actually so ready to bolt out of the store right about now if this goes down a road he hadn’t hoped for.

But there you go, exceeding his expectations again.

“I know,” is what you said.

Denji’s eyes snapped open at that and you laughed at the shock written all over his face.

“You know? Wha一Whaddya mean you knew?” Because of the shock, Denji’s voice also was getting louder so you took his hand and led him outside to avoid any suspicious eyes. Though you were laughing along the way, Denji was angry pouting as he tried to shush you.

Calming down a bit, you stuttered out apologies before confessing. “I’m sorry, Denji, but it’s not like you tried to hide it or anything一” his mouth fell open. “I coulda sworn I was being subtle!” That was one of his most natural build ups for a confession, like, ever.

“You have the subtlety of a puppy,” you covered your face as you snort. “But that’s okay because it’s one of the things I like about you.” He flushed red underneath your teasing gaze.

“So... ya really do like me then?” Denji didn’t take his eyes off of you this time. This new smile of yours formed cute little crinkles around your eyes and he thinks it’s one of his favorites.

“If I say yes, would you be my boyfriend?” The sly question had Denji’s heart doing flips. He’d love nothing more than to wear the title of your boyfriend and to have you as his.

So he answered with a kiss.

✶ notes! › i actually completed this holy mf shit i did not have hope. i still think it’s literally too long for my original plan but whatever i’m kinda happy with what i came up with.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

What do you think are the members' favorite sex positions?

What are you talking about, they're pure pristine angels that would never - I'm just kidding, alright, on the assumption that no one is repulsed by sex, let's make some completely unfounded guesses!

No repeats because that's not fun. It's very likely there's overlap in reality. Classic sex positions are popular for a reason. This is just for giggles and because I like ranting about sex. ;) This wasn't intentional, but the list turned out to be genital neutral. Don't tell me men can't have boobs. I've seen Jeon Jungkook.

Kim Namjoon: Cowgirl. Did he not tell us he likes a a pro rida? Pfft, but on a real note, I feel that cowgirl can be a very empowering position. Frontal is great for titty bounce, reverse is great for ass bounce. Versatile! Plus, he can grab your hips and rail you to change the pace if needed. Just imagine his hands holding your waist as you ride his dick. Mhm. Let him see you feel sexy for him. He likes that.

Kim Seokjin: Against the wall, with one leg around his waist and your hands on his shoulders. He's a bit tricky because I think his favorite sex position will depend on his partner (he's gonna match your freak, as they say). So, while his mouth will probably complain, "this is unconventional, idk about this", he would enjoy the passion. That kind of position requires both partners to be actively involved, and seeing a display of your desire for him will bring out the best in him. I wouldn't be surprised if he only did vanilla missionary though, if that was all his partner wanted.

Min Yoongi: 69. Okay, yeah, that's giga obvious. Dude thinks he can continue going on and on about his tongue technology and not expect me to think he's all about it? HUH?! (ft j-hope) But also I think he's a multi-position in one session kinda guy. He doesn't wanna be bored. He's gonna be intense. Sex is never "just because", sex is because he wants it and he's gonna put his all into it. Be prepared. This is a threat.

Jung Hoseok: All fours doggy. With one hand handcuffed to his. Well, he'd do regular doggy purely to watch that ass bounce. I just feel that he would be the most interested in adding some flair into the bedroom. Let's have some fun! A vibrator here, one there, casual handcuffing, make it flashy, larger than life, tomorrow everyone is asking you why you're walking weirdly.

Park Jimin: Standing doggy. He's standing, you're bent over, hands on the floor. A different angle than elbows and knees, extra deep and you'll feel his balls smack you with each thrust. Push back. He likes to feel you contribute. Before this, he would probably want to make out with both of you doing the most of your hands. He expresses his feelings are in his touches. Also, have you seen his lips? Can't leave him unkissed!

Kim Taehyung: Missionary with your legs on his shoulders. Yup, folded in half. He likes looking at your face. He likes making you tight as possible so you feel all of him. He's not gonna let you escape. Also, he likes being able to dip down and kiss you when he wants to. Aww. What a cutie. He'd cuddle you every chance he has. That's probably what started this. Spooning into humping your ass.

Jeon Jungkook: On your side, one leg against his chest. Works the best if you're laying on the edge of the bed and he's standing. Can also work if you have flexibility and he's on top. This way his hands have access to front and back, he can show off his power, and see your cute face. Expect a long night. He's got a lot of energy. He's gonna want to show off. He'll make you feel so good so many times, you'll wonder if you're still alive. He's gonna make sure you'll never think about anyone else.

[summercourtship]

Vulpes x Courier with prompt 6 PLEEEEAAAASE!

She’s Courier Six and his initials are VI which means six so obviously it was meant for them!!!!

SORRY i know i said i’d finish other requests first but this one just needed to be written ASAP. You completely understand my headspace right now, anon. (also can't believe I've never made the 6-VI connection.....).

Touch. | Vulpes x Courier + Prompt 6 (18+) | 2nd Person POV

warnings: references to the Legion's attitudes towards women, a brief moment of degradation but it's like silly I guess | 666 words Guess inspired prompt list | send me a character + number for a 100-500 word drabble

You didn’t like Vulpes. It’s what you told yourself every time you saw him. You even told him as much, during the brief moment that you’d separated from the heated kiss he’d pressed against you as soon as the door clicked shut. Your wrists were pinned above your head with one of his hands, the other gripping your hip tightly. He’d simply chuckled in response to your murmurs of hate, like he always did whenever you found yourself under his touch. 

The hand on your hip found its way to the front of your body, slipping beneath the hem of both your pants and your underwear. His fingers, somehow cold despite the constant heat of the Mojave, slipped between your legs and dragged across your folds, collecting the wetness that had already accumulated there. He hummed, amused. 

“I’ve barely touched you yet you’re already so wet for me?” 

“It’s not for you, it’s just…” You tried to scoff, only for his fingers to press up against your clit, your own moan cutting you off. The distraction was good, though, because you didn’t actually have an excuse. There was no real reason why you were practically soaked already, aside from the fact that almost every time you ran into Vulpes this exact same thing happened and your body knew it. From the moment he had approached you as you sat at the counter in The Tops, with that familiar over-confident gleam in his eyes, you were done for. “Shut up, asshole.”

He licked a wet stripe up your neck, pausing to smile against your skin at your half-hearted insult. 

“I can leave.” He said, his breath hitting your ear, and even though you knew he was lying through his teeth (like always) you still reacted, reaching down to grab his wrist before he could remove it. 

“No.” 

Vulpes hummed again but listened, his slowly warming hand still between your legs. He pulled back from your neck, looking down his nose at you. Something in his eyes shifted, a familiar cold glint that acted as a precursor to his favorite game. 

“Beg.” 

It was how he liked to play with you- slowly siphoning away any power you held, taking full control over your encounters. You knew he fantasized about you belonging to him (in one way or another) and that he fully expected it to happen when the Hoover Dam fell to the Legion (because he also expected that to happen, though you disagreed). 

But right now, with his fingers so close to where you needed his touch, you had no reservations about complying with him. (Though after the fact, you always wondered if indulging him like this was smart or if it was all going to bite you in the ass one day.) Just to mess with him, though, you pretended as if you were going to tell him to fuck off, rolling your eyes and huffing before looking at him with half-lidded eyes. 

“Please touch me. Fuck me with your fingers, your tongue, your cock, just please make me come.” You bit your lip, watching as his eyes dipped to stare at it before they snapped back to meet your eyes. “I need you, Vulpes.”    

He may pretend that making you beg was only to put you in your place and served no other purpose, but you saw the flush on his pale cheeks and the way his breath caught at hearing you ask him so nicely. Despite whatever he may say, about how he was only fucking you because he didn’t want to debase himself with the women at the Fort and was only using you as a means of release, you saw right through him. He wanted you, just as much and just as carnally as you wanted him.

And then he had to go and open his mouth again, sighing like it was a chore for him. 

“I suppose I can indulge the profligate whore.” “And yet, your fingers are down my pants.”