#I don’t care what you think of him as a person the man is a phenomenal actor

[missarchive]

american jesus² ☆

spencer reid

part one

summary; Spencer continues to spoil you with thoughtful gifts and lavish attention, each gesture reinforcing the growing bond between you both. Despite the lingering questions and unspoken emotions, Spencer becomes more protective and possessive, revealing his vulnerability and need to care of you. As you begin to navigate the complexities of your unconventional arrangement, the lines between business and genuine affection begin to blur, leaving you both caught between desire and uncertainty.

cw; +18 minors dni, sugar baby/daddy dynamics, inexperienced reader, pleasure dom spencer, fingering, dirty talk, munch!spencer, unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, reader calls spencer "sir"

an; thank you for so so much love on the first part! as always, feedback is greatly appreciated. P.s. this is written with jesus reid in mind <3 xoxo

You exchanged messages almost daily after that. His words were always careful, deliberate, as if he’d spent hours considering each one. He asked about your life—not in a prying way, but with genuine curiosity. He wanted to know your interests, your struggles, the little details that most people overlooked.

In return, he offered glimpses of himself. He told you about his love of books, how his job kept him busy and isolated, and how he’d joined the site not for anything shallow, but because he craved a connection that he hadn’t found anywhere else.

As the days turned into weeks, your messages grew longer, more personal. You learned that he didn’t like crowded places, that he drank too much tea, and that he had a habit of quoting obscure facts when he was nervous.

But despite the growing intimacy of your conversations, there was always a wall between you—a hesitance to reveal too much. Neither of you had shared your real name or details about your work. It wasn’t unusual for this kind of arrangement, but it made everything feel more fragile, like the wrong word could shatter whatever it was you were building.

And then, one night, he sent a message that changed everything.

@ thefourthdoctor; I’ve been thinking... I’d like to meet you in person. If you’re comfortable, of course.

Your heart raced as you read the words. You had been expecting this—waiting for it, even—but now that it was here, you weren’t sure what to say.

@ laceandliterature; Are you sure? 

@ thefourthdoctor; I am. But only if you feel ready. I don’t want you to feel pressured.

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. You wanted to meet him—you couldn’t deny that. But there was a part of you that was afraid. What if he wasn’t what you expected? What if you weren’t what he expected?

@ laceandliterature; Let’s take a little more time. I’m not saying no. Just... not yet.

@ thefourthdoctor; Of course.

@ thefourthdoctor; I’ll wait as long as you need. No pressure.

The conversation continued, and for the next week, things went back to normal—if what you had could even be called that. But the thought of meeting lingered at the back of your mind, growing stronger with every message he sent, every piece of himself he shared.

One night, as you lay in bed, scrolling through his messages, you made up your mind.

@ laceandliterature; Okay, Let’s meet.

@ thefourthdoctor; Are you sure, angel?

@ thefourthdoctor; Yes. I want to meet you, Spencer.

After a few more exchanges, you settled on a quiet café in the city—neutral territory. He insisted on keeping things casual, saying he didn’t want to overwhelm you. If anything, he was a gentleman.

The night before the meeting, you barely slept. You went over everything in your mind a hundred times, questioning your decision, wondering if you were making a mistake. But when the time came, you found yourself standing outside the café, heart pounding as you pushed the door open.

The first time you met Spencer in person, it wasn’t anything like you expected. You had imagined someone cocky, a man accustomed to throwing his money around to get what he wanted. But Spencer wasn’t that. Not even close.

He had chosen a quiet café for your meeting, one tucked away from the bustling city streets, its low lighting and intimate atmosphere offering a sense of privacy. When you arrived, you saw him sitting at a corner table, his long fingers wrapped around a cup of tea, his gaze fixed on a well-worn book.

You almost didn’t approach him. He looked so out of place, like someone who had wandered in by accident, unaware of the implications of what this kind of meeting entailed. But then he glanced up, and his eyes met yours.

You’d recognise those eyes anywhere. They were just as captivating as they had been in his profile picture—intelligent, kind, and curious, but with an edge of something deeper, something darker.

“Hi,” you said, hesitating at the edge of the table.

Spencer stood quickly, his movements awkward but endearing. “Hi. Please, uh, sit. I—I’m Spencer.”

His voice was softer than you expected, but there was a certainty to it that made you feel at ease. As you slid into the chair across from him, you couldn’t help but study him. He was... handsome. 

His hair, a dark cascade of curls that fell just past his shoulders, framed his face like the softest of shadows. Each strand seemed to have a life of its own, unruly and free, yet perfectly suited to him, like a secret kept between the universe and his skin. The golden highlights that kissed the tips caught the light in a way that made him seem almost ethereal, as if sunlight was always seeking to touch him, to linger just a little longer.

His eyes—those eyes—the colour of moss after rain, deep and mysterious, filled with an intelligence that left you feeling both seen and understood, and yet so very far away. There was a quiet intensity in the way they studied everything around him, always searching, always analysing, as though the world was a puzzle he had yet to fully solve. But when they turned toward you, it felt like he was letting the world slip away, if only for a moment, letting you glimpse the tenderness he rarely allowed anyone to see.

His face, pale and angular, was sharp with youth and burdened wisdom all at once. His lips, though soft and pale, would part when he spoke, revealing a mix of shyness and urgency, like every word he shared carried weight. The stubble that traced the sharp edge of his jawline only emphasised the boyishness that lingered beneath the layers of genius and mystery. But it was his smile—rare and fleeting—that truly made your chest ache, a smile that cracked through the fortress around him, like the sun breaking through clouds.

There was something effortlessly magnetic about him, something that made you want to inch closer to understand the stories written in the lines of his face. And yet, just as quickly as he drew you in, there was always an invisible barrier, a space between you and the man that you were still trying to figure out. Spencer Reid was an enigma wrapped in vulnerability, each glance, each gesture, leaving you wanting more of the puzzle to unfold.

The first few minutes were stilted, filled with polite small talk about the weather and the café’s menu. But as the conversation flowed, the tension between you began to ease. Spencer wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met. He spoke with a quiet intensity, his words precise and thoughtful, and he listened just as intently, as if everything you said held a weight he couldn’t ignore.

And then, inevitably, the topic shifted to why you were both there.

“So,” he began, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his napkin. “I’m not, um... particularly experienced with this kind of arrangement.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his candour. “You mean being a sugar daddy?”

He winced slightly at the term but nodded. “Yes. That. I—I don’t want you to think that I see this as transactional, at least not in the way it’s usually framed. I’m looking for... connection, I suppose. Someone to talk to. To spend time with. And if financial support is part of that, then I’m happy to provide it.”

His words caught you off guard. Most men on the site were upfront about their intentions—dinners in exchange for companionship, gifts in exchange for discretion. But Spencer’s tone was different. He wasn’t trying to seduce you or impress you with his wealth. He was just... honest.

You leaned back in your chair, studying him. “And what do you expect from me?”

He hesitated, his eyes flicking away for a moment before meeting yours again. “I don’t have expectations. I only have... hopes. That you’ll be honest with me. That we can build something that feels mutually beneficial. And if, at any point, you’re uncomfortable, you can tell me. No strings, no pressure.”

There was a sincerity in his voice that made your chest tighten. This wasn’t a game to him. It wasn’t about power or control. It was about something deeper, something more human.

“Okay,” you said, nodding slowly. “I think we can make that work.”

Over the next few weeks, your relationship settled into a rhythm. Spencer was generous, but not in a way that felt overbearing. And then there was the money.

He transferred it to your account without fanfare, always with a note attached. For groceries. For that art class you mentioned. For you.

At first, it felt strange, accepting so much from him. But Spencer never made it feel transactional. He never demanded anything in return, never made you feel like you owed him. It was simply his way of showing he cared.

The calls became a nightly ritual. He’d ask about your day, encouraging you to share every mundane detail as though it were the most important thing in the world. He never interrupted, never rushed you, and his thoughtful responses made you feel like the centre of his universe.

In return, you learned more about his life. He told you about the pressures of his job, the long hours, the cases that weighed on him. But he never dwelled on the darkness. Instead, he focused on the small joys: the satisfaction of solving a puzzle, the camaraderie of his team, the books he escaped into when the world felt too heavy.

And then there were the gifts.

It started with little things: a beautifully bound notebook because you’d mentioned wanting to journal, a box of your favourite chocolates, a scarf in your favourite colour. But soon, the gifts became more extravagant.

A delivery driver showed up at your door one afternoon with a box containing a designer handbag you’d admired in passing. Another day, you received an email confirming that Spencer had paid off your car loan, the subject line reading simply: You deserve this.

“Spencer,” you said when you called him that night, clutching the phone tightly. “You didn’t have to do that. I never asked for—”

“I know you didn’t,” he interrupted gently. “But I wanted to. Please let me do this for you.”

It was hard to argue with him when he sounded so sincere.

The next time you met in person, he handed you a small velvet box across the table. You opened it to find a delicate gold bracelet, simple but exquisite, the kind of thing that felt like it belonged in a museum.

“Spencer,” you whispered, your voice catching. “This is too much.”

His expression softened, his fingers brushing against yours as he helped you fasten the bracelet around your wrist. “Nothing I give you will ever feel like enough,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “But I’ll keep trying.”

He spoiled you in other ways too. He insisted on picking up the check whenever you went out, no matter how much you protested. When you mentioned that your laptop was acting up, a brand-new one arrived at your doorstep the next day.

But it wasn’t just about the money or the gifts. It was the way he made you feel cherished, valued, as though your happiness was the most important thing in the world to him.

One night, as you lay in bed after a long call, you found yourself smiling at the thought of him. It was more than just an arrangement now. Somewhere along the way, you’d started to care about him—not for what he could give you, but for who he was.

The low hum of your phone’s speaker filled the quiet of your bedroom as you lay sprawled across your bed, Spencer’s voice soothing and familiar on the other end of the line. Tonight’s call had started like all the others—a mix of light teasing and genuine curiosity—but somewhere along the way, you felt the tone shift.

“Can I ask you something?” you ventured, fiddling with the bracelet he’d given you, its delicate chain glinting in the soft light of your bedside lamp.

“Of course,” Spencer replied, his voice gentle.

“How do you afford all of this?” you asked, hesitant but unable to keep the question bottled up any longer. “The gifts, the...everything. I mean, you’re so generous, and I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful, but I can’t help but wonder.”

There was a pause on the other end, long enough for doubt to creep into your mind. You opened your mouth to take it back, but then he spoke, his tone thoughtful.

“It’s a fair question,” he said softly. “I suppose I owe you an explanation.”

You heard him exhale, the sound heavy with something you couldn’t quite name.

“I wasn’t always this...comfortable,” he began. “For most of my life, I never cared much about money. I didn’t really need to. My job covered the basics, and I didn’t have anyone to spend it on—not until now.”

His words made your heart tighten.

“What kind of job?” you asked tentatively.

“I was with the FBI,” he said, and though his tone was steady, there was a weight behind the words. “I worked as a criminal profiler for over a decade. It wasn’t easy, but it was...fulfilling, in its own way. We dealt with some of the worst humanity has to offer, but knowing we were helping people made it worth it.”

You sat up a little straighter, the revelation catching you off guard. “That sounds...intense.”

“It was,” he admitted. “But I loved it. The work gave me purpose. Until I got injured in the field,” he said quietly. “A knee injury. Nothing life-threatening, but bad enough that I couldn’t keep up with the demands of the job. I had to retire early.”

You could hear the mix of resignation and lingering frustration in his voice, and it tugged at you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, meaning it.

“Don’t be,” he replied, a hint of a smile creeping back into his tone. “It gave me time to focus on other things—like figuring out what I wanted out of life. I realised I’d spent so much of my time chasing after criminals and trying to make the world a safer place, but I’d never really lived for myself.”

You bit your lip, unsure what to say.

“I had money saved up,” he continued, his tone matter-of-fact. “I never spent much on myself. Just the necessities and the occasional book. So, when I found myself with all this extra time and money... I didn’t know what to do with it. And then I found the site.”

The mention of the website—the place where your strange, beautiful relationship had begun—sent a rush of warmth and something like embarrassment through you.

“I wasn’t looking for anything romantic,” he said quickly, as though reading your mind. “I just wanted...connection. Someone to talk to. And then I found you.”

You smiled, your heart softening. “And now you’re spoiling me rotten.”

Spencer chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I don’t see it that way. I like taking care of you. It makes me happy.”

You felt your cheeks flush. “You don’t have to, though. You’ve already done so much.”

“I want to,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I spent years putting my energy into a job that left me drained. Now, I finally get to do something that feels good. Something that matters to me. And you matter to me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you felt your chest tighten with emotion.

“Spencer,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” you murmured, your heart full.

“For what?”

“For being you.”

The silence that followed was warm, comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding that no matter how unconventional your relationship was, it worked. For both of you.

The next time you saw each other, things were different. You could feel the air between you crackling with an electric charge. The conversation flowed easily, but there was an undeniable tension lingering beneath the surface. Every touch seemed to hold more weight, every glance more meaningful.

After dinner, Spencer invited you back to his apartment. You could tell he was being cautious—he didn’t want to rush anything—but you could also feel that he was testing boundaries, subtly claiming his space. As you sat next to him on his worn out leather couch, his hand brushed against yours, and it felt like the world narrowed down to just the two of you. The quiet intimacy of the moment was powerful, and you both knew you couldn’t keep pretending that your relationship was just a simple arrangement anymore.

His voice broke the silence.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he said, his words low, careful. “About what we’re doing, and what it means. I can’t keep giving you everything and pretending it’s nothing. It’s not just about the money or the gifts anymore. I want to be more than that for you.”

You felt a surge of emotion, something between excitement and fear. This was what you had been afraid of—the moment when you’d realise that you wanted more, that this wasn’t just some transaction for you either. And you could see in Spencer’s eyes that he was struggling with the same feelings.

“I don’t want you to think that I only care about the money,” you said, your voice quiet but steady. 

Spencer’s gaze softened, and for a moment, there was something vulnerable in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before.

“I know,” he whispered, his hand slipping into yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But I can’t stop myself from wanting to give you everything. I’m not used to feeling like this. Like I’m needed. I’ve spent so much of my life in control, always keeping my distance... but with you, it’s different.”

You squeezed his hand, understanding what he meant. You didn’t need him to explain further. There was an unspoken connection between you two now—a bond that was undeniable, something more than the surface-level arrangement you’d initially started with.

“I want to give you everything too,” you said softly, leaning in closer. “But you have to promise me something—promise me that this isn’t just about the money. Promise me that you actually want me.”

Spencer’s eyes held yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine, his gaze so deep it felt as though he could see every hidden part of you. The air between you thickened, the unspoken tension finally reaching its breaking point. He took a slow step forward, the warmth of his body enveloping you, and for a heartbeat, everything else ceased to exist.

His hand lifted, cupping your cheek in a soft, yet possessive way, as if he was both cherishing and claiming you all at once. “I promise,” the gentle brush of his thumb over your skin sent a flutter through your chest, and before you could process it, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow at first, tentative, as if both of you were testing the waters, savouring the newness of it. But the moment you responded, the kiss deepened, urgency flooding in. Spencer’s lips moved against yours with a fervour that mirrored the racing pulse in your veins. His hands, once gentle, now framed your face with a desperate kind of need, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

Every touch, every press of his lips against yours, was electric. You could feel the raw intensity of everything he was holding back in that kiss—the longing, the desire, the tension of months spent on the edge, waiting for this moment. And when his tongue traced the line of your lower lip, a quiet gasp escaped you, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss further, drawing you in like a magnet.

Your hands, almost instinctively, found their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the strands that had once teased you from a distance, now so close you could feel the weight of them. His hair was soft, the strands slipping between your fingers as you tugged him closer, urging him to kiss you more fiercely.

As he kissed his way down your body, you could feel the anticipation building inside of you. You loved how he savoured you, like a piece of art he needed to take his time with. His fingers slid along your inner thighs, spreading you open for him. He groaned, his breath hot against your skin. “Fuck, baby,” he murmured against your clit. “Look at you. Already dripping wet for me. What am I gonna do with you? Perfect, perfect girl.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his tongue swirled around your clit, the sensation of his warm mouth sending waves of pleasure through you. You arched your back off the couch, your hands tangling in his hair.

“Please,” you begged, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the pressure building. “Please, sir. Please make me cum.”

Spencer moaned, his tongue dipping inside of you before returning to your clit. Teasing it gently with his tongue, his fingers slipping inside of you, working you open. You were already close, your walls tightening around his fingers as he fucked them into you slowly. Picking up the pace, his mouth latched onto your clit as you fell apart, your body trembling with your orgasm. 

Spencer didn’t give you a second to catch your breath before he was kissing you again, his tongue pushing past your lips to taste you, tip of his cock nudging against your cunt. You weren’t even sure when he’d taken his clothes off, not that it mattered now. You whimpered as he slid inside of you, his cock stretching you open. He pulled back slightly, hips rolling against your own. “Keep your eyes open,” he commanded. “Need to see your face when you cum. Need to see what I do to you.”

You nodded, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he picked up the pace. He was relentless, slamming into you with deep, powerful thrusts. 

You weren’t used to coming more than once in a row, with your poor excuses of previous partners, but with Spencer, it felt natural. He pushed you higher than you knew was possible, taking you to the edge of sanity every time you were together. And when you came, it was like a floodgate opened up, and all of that pent-up desire came pouring out of you.

He was whispering things to you, things that made you blush and preen, words that made you feel beautiful, wanted. You’d never felt like this before. You felt like a completely different person with him, someone who was capable of more than you ever thought.

“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Give it to me, princess. Let me feel you. Fuck, you feel so good around me,” he kissed you deeply as he drove inside of you, the pressure inside of you growing. “Cum for me, angel. Cum all over my cock.”

You heard him through a haze, your body trembling and shaking as the second orgasm rolled through you. You felt his cock pulse inside of you as he came, his teeth sinking gently into your neck as he rode out his own release. Wrapping your arms around him, you pull him as close as possible as you hold onto him, his body pressing into yours.

Pressing soft kisses to your shoulder, he whispers into your skin. “Stay the night?” He asked. “I don’t want you to leave yet, just got you here.” His voice was soft, gentle, and you found yourself melting into his embrace. You didn’t want to go either. You wanted to stay like this, wrapped up in his arms, for as long as possible. And that terrified you more than anything else. “Please?”

He looked at you, his eyes dark and sincere. Your heart fluttered at the look he was giving you. It was one you’d never seen before, one that made your breath catch in your throat.

 It was a look that said he wanted more, and that scared you. But it also filled you with a warmth you couldn’t deny.

“Yeah,” you said finally. “Okay.” And as Spencer pulled you back into his arms, kissing you gently, you realised that you might just be in trouble. He was already pulling you in, tempting you to stay. You were already falling for him, and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do to stop it. “I’ll stay.” You agreed.

 “For tonight.” You added. You weren’t going to admit to more than that, not yet. “Just tonight.” Spencer nodded, his lips returning to yours.

You knew it was dangerous, you knew you were playing with fire, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You wanted to be his, even if it was just for one night. You wanted to let him own you, let him love you. Even if it was just temporary, you wanted to feel that love for as long as you could. You knew it would hurt in the end, but you were too far gone to stop it now.

And when he whispered your name against your lips, you almost believed that it was real. That this wasn’t just temporary, but forever. Almost. You allowed yourself to be swept up in the moment, to believe the things he whispered to you. To believe that maybe this was it.

Maybe he was your forever, and you were his. Maybe this was something that could last longer than just one night.

Won't you take me to heaven tonight? You know you're my weakness American Jesus, save me You're the greatest love of my life

[reignpage]

Finders Keepers

Summary: in which alien!reader crash lands right in front of Gojo and your story with him begins Word Count: 1k (just trialing a new concept so it's a quick opening) Warnings: a little cursing, allusions to experimentation and alien warfare, reader is naked but not in a sexual manner

“I can’t believe aliens actually exist,” Satoru mutters to himself. 

This has been an incredibly wild evening. 

When he stepped out of his apartment to throw the bins out, he hadn’t expected to see a blinding flash of light zoom past him and explode in the parking lot. Thank goodness for his infinity, otherwise he would not have fared as well as the minivan you landed on. 

Yes. 

You.

The woman who came straight from the sky and fell on top of a car, missing him by just two metres.

At first, he thought it was a curse; these things get pretty weird sometimes, after all. But using his Six Eyes, he could tell you were different. Sure, you looked like any other person, with arms and legs and a head. But you had a unique aura to you, positively otherworldly. 

If he was any other kind of man, he would have just left you there and pretended nothing happened — ignorance is bliss and whatnot — but what kind of Honoured One would he be if he didn’t do his duty and helped you out?

So, he slides down the massive crater you made (boy is that going to be a pain for maintenance to clean up) and carefully cradles your naked body in his arms, carefully so as to not touch bits and pieces no gentleman has a business looking at. Why are you naked anyways? 

Sensing people making their way down the stairs to inspect the commotion, he teleports back into his apartment quick as a flash before anyone could think to look through their windows. 

He throws a blanket at you and leaves you on the sofa as he paces the length of his living room and ponders what to do. On one hand, he could call the police and leave it up to them to deal with you. The government would know best about how to deal about falling space women, right? But then, don’t all the sci-fi movies talk about inhumane experimentation, weaponizing alien technology, and Area 51? 

That wouldn’t be a very nice thing to do, at all. 

And on the other hand, he could just take care of you himself. He has the means to, that’s for sure. You really don’t look any different from everyone else — surely, you need the same things he does: food, water, shelter and warmth.

Right?

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone to call his doctor friend, you begin rousing from sleep. Your eyes flutter open and they’re a normal colour, which freaks him out more if he’s going to be perfectly honest. 

“Uh,” Satoru scratches the back of his neck, shuffling on his feet a little, “hey? I’m Gojo Satoru. You can just call me Satoru, though. If you want, or can, I guess.”

You tilt your head, scanning his body, and you open your mouth. What comes out is definitely an alien language. Or maybe he needs to travel more. But he certainly does not comprehend a single thing that you say. 

Clearing his throat, he tries to smile comfortingly. “Okay, so I didn’t understand what you said. Sorry. But uh, do you need anything? Like, do you know where you are? Yeah, you definitely don’t know what I’m saying either, do you?”

You tilt your head again. 

“What is wrong with me? Seriously. What was I thinking bringing you home? You may have fallen from the sky but I’m the one that clearly hit my head. I really am an idiot.”

Glancing around the room, you don’t look any bit as frazzled and panicked as he is. Actually, you’re as cool as a cucumber, and there isn’t a hint of shame or embarrassment on your face when you push yourself off the sofa, blanket sliding down your body. 

“Woah! Woah!”

Satoru presses his hands to his eyes and leaves them there for a second or two before realising that does absolutely nothing and when he pulls them down, he doesn’t flinch when you’re standing before him, inquisitive eyes meeting his. 

His infinity is on and he’s ready to subdue you if you prove to be a threat, but so far, he’s simply letting you reorient yourself, getting used to your surroundings and giving you the opportunity to decide he’s not a bad guy. 

That being said, however, he’s still deciding whether to keep you or not. He doesn’t want you to be poked and prodded — that wouldn’t be a very cool welcome to planet Earth and he doesn’t need you to go around telling your alien friends humans suck, though they do. But he also doesn’t know if that’s the best decision. 

You could be a danger to jujitsu society, to his students, to the world. What if, right at this very moment, you’re leaking deadly radiation? And what if his infinity can’t keep it out? Can’t keep you out?

Gosh, there are so many things that could go wrong. 

It’s entirely possible too that you’re a blood sucking monster intent on wringing him dry for all he’s worth. Maybe you’re not even an alien. Maybe you’re a special kind of curse, the kind that can bypass his Six Eyes, though he’s fairly confident that’s not the case (there’s no one stronger than him, after all). 

What if this is Kenjaku all over again?

Yeah, on second thought, he should definitely call the police. Or Ijichi, or the Prime Minister of Japan, or whoever will believe him when he says there’s a naked, alien lady in his home, and no, he’s not a pervert playing out some sick fantasy.

But just as he’s lifting his phone, you lift your hand the same time he does and cover your eyes. 

Then you say his name in perfect Japanese with a sweet, soft voice, not a hint of hesitation or unsteadiness. You smile, eyes still obscured, and he feels himself mirroring your gleeful expression. 

“That’s right. I’m Satoru. It’s nice to meet you.”

He decides, there and then, to hell with radiation, alien armies, and the deadly risk you pose to everything he knows or cares about. The military, conspiracy theorists, and scientists be damned.

He’s going to keep you. 

[tfwbluu]

PAIRING — ni-ki + f!reader

WARNINGS — best friends to lovers, riki’s experienced, he’s sweet but still a tease by heart, some begging, fingering, oral (f. rec), pet names, squirting.

WORDCOUNT — 1.2K

NOTE — my riks pussy eater agenda never ends . . sorry for leaving this on a slight cliffhanger >< perhaps i can make a part two if any of you are interested, lmk your thoughts thru my inbox or what not <3

“Ki, would it be weird for a girl not to squirt?” you asked suddenly, catching Riki completely off guard. He choked on his drink, coughing uncontrollably at your unexpected question. “SORRY!” you exclaimed, hurriedly patting his back as he tried to recover.

“You could’ve given me some warning,” he said, wiping his mouth as you sat on the bed, lips pouting.

“Why’d you ask?” he questioned, his brow raised, though it was clear he wasn’t entirely surprised by your curiosity.

“I mean… you’ve had experience with girls, right? Have you made them cum or, I don’t know, squirt before?” you asked hesitantly, your pout deepening as your cheeks flushed. Riki fought back the urge to lean in and kiss you right then but managed to keep his composure.

“Well,” he started, leaning back casually on his hands, “I have sex to enjoy myself and to give pleasure. So yeah, sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. It depends on the person.”

You muttered under your breath, “Man, am I weird,” not realizing he heard you.

“Why would you be weird?” he asked, his gaze fixed on you, making you squeak as your face burned with embarrassment.

“N-nothing! It’s just a random thought,” you stammered, laughing nervously, but the way he looked at you told you he wasn’t buying it. Finally, you sighed in defeat.

“Okay, fine. All the times I’ve had sex with men, I’ve never cum… or squirted. Ever,” you admitted, your words spilling out before you could stop them. “And now, my friends keep talking about how amazing their sex lives are, and I feel like there’s something wrong with me because I’ve always had to fake it.”

Riki was silent for a moment before speaking bluntly. “That just means those men suck at pleasing women.”

Your eyes widened as he suddenly leaned closer, his hand gently holding your chin, tilting your face toward his. His dark eyes locked with yours.

“Want me to show you how it’s really done?” he asked, his voice low and steady, though the strain in his sweats betrayed how much he was holding back. The room grew quiet, the air charged with tension as you blinked at him, your heart racing. Finally, you managed to whisper, “P-please.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. Without hesitation, Riki closed the distance between you, his lips crashing into yours as he pulled you into his arms.

He pushed you back onto the bed, his hands roaming over your body before slipping beneath your shirt. A small whimper escaped your lips as your fingers tangled in his hair, giving it a light tug. Riki smirked at your reaction, his lips trailing down your skin before settling near your bottom half. Pausing, he looked up at you, silently seeking permission. You couldn’t trust your voice, so you simply nodded. With one smooth motion, he slid your pants and panties off, exposing you to his gaze. His hands spread your legs gently as he adjusted his position.

“Don’t think about me too much tonight, princess. This is all about you, okay?” he murmured, his voice soft yet commanding as his hands caressed your thighs. “Can I?”

“Y-yes,” you breathed out, a strangled moan escaping as his fingers finally explored your wet folds. He began rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your clit, coaxing more of your arousal to pool between your thighs.

“T-there’s lube in the drawer,” you whispered shakily.

“Okay, sweetheart. Let me prep you a bit, yeah?” he replied sweetly, leaning over to grab the bottle. After squirting some onto his fingers, he returned to you, his touch warm and careful.

Gently fondling your folds, he slid one finger inside, stretching you just enough before adding a second. His pace was slow, deliberate, each motion igniting waves of pleasure as his fingers worked you open. You sighed in relief, soft moans tumbling from your lips as he fucked you with precision.

“Feels nice?” he teased, his thumb now stroking your clit in time with his fingers. A high-pitched moan slipped out as your back arched.

“R-Riki~!” you whined, throwing your head back as the pleasure built.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmured, his voice filled with adoration and lust. “Gonna give it the love it deserves.”

With that, he leaned down, his lips finding your clit as his tongue replaced his thumb. His warm mouth suckled at the sensitive bud, his fingers never faltering in their steady rhythm.

A needy whimper escaped you at the added sensation, your hips stuttering against his face in an attempt to get more of him. The slow, deliberate pace felt maddening, your body trembling as the pleasure overwhelmed you. Riki simply chuckled against you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins as he focused on drawing every ounce of pleasure from you.

“That’s it, pretty. Let go for me,” Riki murmured, pulling his fingers from your pussy before leaning down to give soft, kitten-like licks to your folds. His tongue teased you mercilessly, his lips suctioning onto your clit for just a moment before pulling away again. He repeated this agonizing rhythm, slow and deliberate, until your impatience boiled over.

“Riki…” you whined, your voice shaky and breathless.

“Hmm?” he hummed, feigning innocence as his slow, gentle touches continued, driving you to the brink.

“P-please,” you pleaded, looking down at him with desperate, glossy eyes. “Need more… just go faster, harder—I don’t care, just please.”

A devilish smirk played on his lips. “As you wish, princess,” he whispered, his voice laced with dark amusement. Without hesitation, he slid his fingers back inside you, this time pumping them faster and deeper. He curled them expertly, finding that spot that had your back arching off the bed, all while his tongue worked your clit with unrelenting precision.

High-pitched whimpers spilled from your lips, mingling with the lewd, obscene sounds of his fingers and mouth as they worked in perfect harmony. The room was filled with the slick echoes of your arousal and his focused attention, and it didn’t take long for an unfamiliar knot to tighten in your stomach.

“W-wait, Riki—!” you gasped shakily, the strange sensation growing too intense. But your protest only spurred him on. His fingers curled deeper, his tongue swirling faster as your body trembled beneath him.

And then it hit. The knot unraveled, snapping violently as your release gushed from you, soaking his lips and chin. You cried out, your body spasming uncontrollably as the pleasure overwhelmed you. Riki drank it up greedily, savoring every drop before planting one last, tender kiss on your folds.

Rising above you, he kissed your trembling lips, his smirk softening as he wiped a strand of hair from your damp forehead. “Well, there you have it,” he said with a satisfied grin. “You’re not weird, princess. You just needed the right man to give you the right treatment.”

You blinked up at him, still delirious from your high. “Y-yeah… um,” you mumbled, your mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened.

He chuckled, brushing a thumb against your cheek. “Don’t worry, angel. If you want to return the favor, I’m all for it—but only if you’re ready. No pressure.”

“Let me help you too, please?” you whispered, your wide, pleading eyes meeting his.

Riki cursed under his breath, his resolve nearly crumbling. “Fuck, you’re so cute,” he muttered before pulling off his shirt. He adjusted your position beneath him, the warmth of his skin pressing against yours.

“Just know I won’t be able to stop, princess,” he warned, his voice a low growl as his lips brushed against yours. “Hope you’re ready.”

PERM TAG LIST — @bussolares @rikiives @contyynishimura @aanniikkaa @lilmarsh-t

[artinventor]

Ok let’s break it down shall we:

In season 4-5 I could already see the shipping potential with the concept of an angel pulling a faithless man out of hell, and said angel who is a robotic soldier suddenly starts to feel emotion after interacting more and more with said man.

Insane foundation already but I did think of how castiel seemed to already have a fascination with humanity after I saw his chat with uriel at the park where he tells dean that not only does he think all humans are works of art but that he already has doubts in heaven and in his absent father. Dean IS the one to inspire him to ultimately rebel and discover free will but I could excuse it as mainly a personal journey that you could certainly just say is a budding friendship. Setting aside the fact that they would constantly look at each other for long moments in a really charged way (for castiel I could say he’s a cosmic being that is unfamiliar with social norms or human emotion so staring intensely can be a byproduct of that but I don’t have an excuse for dean’s reactions to it, you can tell he wants to be threatened but my guy looked enraptured, if not ignited by it)

It wasn’t until season 6 and the episode The Man Who Would Be King that the “oh they’re so gay” hit me.

You’re telling me that this angel has been around for eons, witnessed the creation of everything on earth and observed it’s many big events, but did not start to feel emotion or act out until he met dean?? And he champions dean’s mission of free will even when he doesn’t fully understand it himself when the other angels ask him. I can say this is still apart of his personal journey but at this point I cannot deny that dean is the one that really spearheaded it forward. He starts a whole war in heaven so that he can maintain dean’s mission and so that his sacrifice (his brother) was not for nothing. The fact that cas’ bad decisions were all based on the fact that he just didn’t want Dean to be involved because he was finally retired and at peace so he had no one else to turn to except crowley. He really cares about dean’s happiness THAT much, that is a mighty intense feeling to have for someone to me.

Then they emphasize the fact that dean is the one who feels the most betrayed by cas after struggling to even accept it in the first place. There’s a lot of intensity within the dialogue in the scene they confront him about it, and they’re sure to give me a close up on only dean to make sure I know how he feels about it. The eye contact in that scene really goes crazy because there was so much there on a deeper level, It was like you could see how they both realized the betrayal was breaking the trust between them but they were still wanting to hang on to that connection because it was something they both cherished, the way dean looked back before leaving? Insane.

That episode was the main hit for me, but it was largely mainly on castiel’s end. The main hit from dean’s end for me was when I saw the purgatory flashbacks in season 8.

In season 7 it seemed to me that dean was very effected by cas’ death and handled it in the classic dean winchester way of internalizing it all, but we get lines here and there about how bothered he is by it whenever his concerning behavior is somewhat addressed. Before Cas even had a chance to redeem himself after what he did, Dean seems to have already forgiven him, defending him once cas re-gains his lost memory and says he deserved to die. This showed me that the connection they had meant as much to dean as it did to cas.

And he really shows how much it means to him with how he fights tooth and nail to get cas out of purgatory. Cas literally disappeared once they got there, making it look like he abandoned dean, and then actively ran away from dean because he thought he belonged there. Yet dean was so insane that he hunted down cas’ location, caught up with him and dragged him to that portal. He literally had a way out that he chose to ignore until he found castiel, and was willing to die to get him out. Dean very desperately wants cas to be around when he gets out, he did not like how it felt when he previously wasn’t. Again, that is a mighty intense feeling to have for someone to me. Especially with how his memory literally changed what happened because he couldn’t handle that cas was left behind??

I do think a big part of this storyline is showing how dean thinks everything and everyone is his responsibility because of the way he was raised by his father as a hunter and protector. But we’ve seen this in dean since the beginning, while not fully addressed until now, it’s not new, so the fact that they used castiel to further show this side of him is very insane. Leaving Cas in purgatory would effect nobody on the outside except Dean, Dean made it his personal mission to get that angel out even after everything he had done, and that level of intensity was another major hit on the Destiel train for me. That and the gay ass reaction dean had when cas walked out of the bathroom when he got back from purgatory???

anyway, I’m only on episode 8 of season 8 rn so that’s all I’ve seen so far.

y’all I am so sorry for years I assumed that gay ship in supernatural was just a delusion that people overanalyzed and claimed queerbait for no reason cuz I’ve seen that happen a million times but now that I’m actually watching the show they really were gay as fuck LMAOOOO

[nomie-11]

Vi x Reader - Red Lipstick Stains

masterlist!

Vi knew she shouldn’t bother you when you were getting ready in the morning. 

You liked your space before you left for work or whatever errands you had to run for the day, and she knew that, but the red lipstick you wore drove her crazy. 

Leaning on the doorframe of the tiny bathroom the two of you shared in a small but cozy apartment in Zaun, Vi resolved to just watch you expertly swipe the dark red lipstick across your upper lip, then your lower lip, before dragging your nail underneath your lip line to clean the edge. 

God, it made her pulse race. She wanted nothing more than to ruin your pretty lipstick. She hated the fact that you had actual shifts at your job—even if she was grateful that you were just a bartender (at her dad’s bar no less, thank you Vander)—because that meant you had a stable job and didn’t need to fight in the pits like she did. It also meant you had to get to work on time. 

But Vi had never been good at resisting temptation, especially when it came to you. 

“That color looks dangerous,” she teased, her voice low and gravelly as she stepped into the bathroom, crowding you against the sink. Her hands found their familiar place at your waist, her fingers pressing lightly against the fabric of your  shirt. “Almost as dangerous as the person wearing it.”

You rolled your eyes at her in the mirror, though the faint smile tugging at your lips betrayed your amusement. “Vi, I don’t have time for this. My shift starts in twenty minutes.”

“Then you shouldn’t look so damn good,” she muttered, kissing the edge of your jaw, her lips brushing against the skin just below your carefully applied lipstick. “Makes it impossible for me to let you leave without getting a proper goodbye.” 

Her lips trailed lower, finding the spot just beneath your ear that always made you shiver. You tried to fight it, you really did, but the soft hitch of your breath gave you away. Vi grinned against your skin, clearly pleased with herself. 

“Vi,” you warned, though your voice lacked any real conviction. “I’m serious. I can’t be late again or Vander’s going to have my head.” 

She hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t move away. Instead, she tilted her head to the side, her pink hair brushing against your cheek as she murmured into your ear; “Vander’ll understand. I’ll tell him I couldn’t let you leave looking this good without leaving my mark first.” 

You barely had time to process her words before she pressed her lips to yours. The kiss was fervent, claiming, and utterly unapologetic. You could feel the smudge of your lipstick mixing between you, and you knew without a doubt that it was ruined. But in that moment, with Vi’s hands tightening on your waist and her lips making you forget about everything else, you couldn’t even bring yourself to care. 

Her lips trailed down, teeth grazing the lower edge of your jaw as a soft sigh escaped past your lips. “Vi—” you mumbled. “Are you really going to call Vander again and tell him I’m sick?”

“Mhm,” she breathed, her words hot against the curve of your neck. “I’m gonna call him and tell him you’re sick for the next two weeks, and he’s just going to have to deal with it.” Vi chuckled against your skin, her lips forming a grin that you could practically feel. “Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t know what’s going on. The old man’s sharp. He probably already expects it.”

You groaned, half in frustration and half in surrender, as your hands moved to her shoulders, attempting to push her away—not that you were trying very hard. “He thinks I’m pregnant—won’t let me near a drop of alcohol.”

At that, Vi snorted, her lips moving upwards once more to kiss you again, lipstick now trailing from your lips to the curve of your bare shoulders and even on the strap of your black tank top. “Maybe we should try, give him what he wants.” 

You smiled into her kiss, your tongue tracing the plush skin of her lower lip. “We’re lesbians, love.” You broke away, tilting your head to take a glance at the damage in the mirror. “And I really have to go to work, so you need to let me get this lipstick off of my entire neck.” 

“Aw, no…” She whined, but still let you grab a makeup wipe and remove the stains of your red lipstick. When you were finished cleaning up, she reluctantly handed you your tube of lipstick and watched as you applied it once more, sending her a wink in the mirror. 

You capped the lipstick with a satisfying click and turned to face Vi, giving her an exaggerated look of mock sternness. “Alright, I’m officially running late now, and if Vander asks why, I’m telling him it’s because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.” 

Vi smirked, leaning lazily against the doorframe once more, her eyes never leaving yours. “He’ll just say, ‘That’s my girl,’ and send you on your way.” She crossed her arms, looking far too smug for her own good. “You know he likes me.” 

“Only because he has to,” you shot back, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. You moved toward the door, but not before stopping in front of her. “And Vi, please…” you hesitated, your voice softening as your eyes met hers. “Don’t be too reckless in your matches tonight, okay? I need you coming home to me in one piece.” 

Vi’s smirk faltered just slightly, her expression softening. “You know me, babe. I’ll be fine.” 

You gave her a pointed look. “That’s what worries me.” 

She chuckled, stepping forward to cup your face gently in her calloused hands. “I promise,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “I’ll be careful.” 

Satisfied for the moment, you gave her a small smile and turned to leabe. But just as your hand reached the doorknob, Vi tugged you back by the wrist. Before you could protest, she kissed you one last time—a deep, lingering kiss that left your heart racing all over again. 

When she pulled away, her lips were curled in that same mischievous grin you knew all too well. “Whoops, guess I smudged it again,” she teased, brushing her thumb over the faint smear of red that had messed up the outline of your perfect lips. 

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you wiped at your lips with the back of your hand. “You’re impossible,” you said, shaking your head as you finally made your way out the door. 

“I love you!” she called after you, her voice echoing through the hallway. 

You couldn’t help but grin as you turned the corner, muttering to yourself, “I love you too, idiot.” 

-------

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[hueseok]

can’t stop thinking about boyfriend!yoongi who in a way, found his match with you.

for decades, his oldest friends always teased him for being the textbook definition of ‘nonchalant’, labeling him as a stoic man who loved to pretend that he didn’t care about anything—even though in reality, there were always a few tells that made it obvious that he did.

he was the type of guy who made it seem like he didn’t care if you forgot about his birthday, but would send a joke afterwards saying that he was disappointed that you didn’t remember.

or the type who acted like it didn’t matter to him if the meal he worked hard on cooking tasted delicious for your taste buds, only to grin really wide as soon as you complimented him and uttered a string of praises afterwards.

it was an endearing quality of yoongi’s, a rather fascinating trait that also became the butt of the joke at times whenever the topic was his love life and his bad luck when it came to relationships.

“you can come off as emotionally unavailable,” hoseok told him over beer once. “ladies don’t like that. they want men who can tell them how special they are.”

“isn’t it enough that i show it?” yoongi asked, having just been dumped by the girl he was dating. “i mean, i drive her to work every single day. i fetch her from work whenever i can too. i buy her stuff if it’s necessary, like shampoo or paper towels.”

hoseok stared at him. “paper towels?”

“yeah.”

“wow. i take it all back. you are the most romantic man on the planet.”

yoongi rolled his eyes at the sarcasm. “she mentioned she was running out of them so i bought more for her.”

“are you her dad or something?”

“i heard ladies like a provider.”

“yes, but not in that sense. it’s more like… you get the bill whenever you’re having lunch or dinner at a restaurant, or buying her a bag she’s been eyeing, or paying for her nails when she gets them done. doing all of that without not being asked is the key aspect of it, really.”

“how do you know this stuff?”

hoseok shrugged. “i have an older sister,” he says. “also, i’m engaged to my girlfriend of 6 years. being in a relationship that long ought to teach you a lot.”

thanks to that conversation, yoongi began understanding what it really meant to be a great and affectionate boyfriend without sacrificing his rather reserved personality. he knew what the right gestures to do, what the right things to say, what the right gifts to buy—and he did all of that with utmost sincerity, genuinely wanting to be a better partner for his current girlfriend, which also happened to be you.

the funny thing, though?

you couldn’t seem to recognize the nice boyfriend things yoongi was doing and how much he improved compared to his last relationship.

you were just… independent, he thought. a strong woman who didn’t like to be coddled and didn’t like asking help from anyone regardless of how much you may be already struggling. he had a realization that you were naturally like this because of the stories you used to tell him that made him understand that you just weren’t used to relying on others, a trait that he didn’t have an issue with and sometimes even admired.

however, he couldn’t lie and say that it wasn’t sometimes frustrating as well.

for example, just last week, the both of you had a semi-big fight because of how you constantly insisted on changing the broken lightbulb in your bedroom yourself even though yoongi was already telling you that he could do it instead. in the end, since you were stubborn as hell, you still tried changing it on your own but had a very minor injury due to falling off the stool you were standing on for extra height.

yoongi was furious when he found out, and you ultimately became furious because it seemed like he was being unfair to you, the negative energy impacting your mood and rationality that you didn’t get how he was more mad on the fact that you let your pride get to you than just asking for his damn help for the freaking lightbulb.

when the both of you calmed down and said your apologies, yoongi took your hands and looked directly in your eyes. “babe, you have to start depending on me,” he said.

the straightforwardness caught you off guard. “huh?”

“i mean…” you felt him squeeze your fingers softly, “i understand that you’re used to doing things all on your own… how you don’t like being treated like some baby… but that shouldn’t be the case with me, okay? i’m here to take care of you, to always help you with whatever you need.”

you opened your mouth, about to say something he knew was not going to align with his point, so he took the liberty to cut you off.

“i’m serious. you know what i’m talking about. let me take care of you, ____.”

“but—” you couldn’t continue with your sentence, a wave of emotions suddenly flooding you that made your throat tighten and voice quiver as you began speaking again— “how? i… i don’t—i just… you don’t need to. i don’t want to be a burden.”

yoongi gave you a look, a mixture of fondness and disbelief. “you? a burden?”

“yeah. you don’t need to take care of me.”

“i’m well aware that you’re a grown woman who doesn’t need taking care of.” he joked. “but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to do it. that’s why if i were you, i would just start depending on my poor boyfriend and learn how to be comfortable in being taken care of because it’s definitely how things are going to be now that he’s here.”

you snorted at the use of third person. “fine,” you sniffled, “okay, i’ll try to be better at asking for help next time.”

he sighed in relief, releasing your hands to instead engulf you in a tight embrace. “thank you, baby. i appreciate it a lot.”

****

the first time you willingly asked yoongi for a favor after that talk—regardless of how small and trivial it was—it still affected him big time.

“can you help me assemble the drawer i bought?” you asked him over dinner, ever so casual and nonchalant.

he almost dropped the chopsticks he was holding. “what?”

“i said, can you—”

“no, i heard that perfectly well. i’m just surprised at what i’m hearing.”

your lips twitched while your face visibly burned. “don’t start teasing me or else—”

“i’m not.” he laughed, a little too loudly than usual, before reaching for your hand and kissing your knuckles. “i’m not, i swear. i’m just happy.”

“you’re happy because i’m asking for help?”

“i’m happy because you’re letting me take care of you,” he corrected. “it’s a bit overdue in my opinion but who am i to complain?”

you playfully shoved his hand away, which made yoongi laugh harder and lean towards you to give you a chaste kiss on the cheek, letting you know that your simple effort of trying to let him in meant so much more than words could ever say.

note. this blurb is unedited and has been in my drafts since december because it's always yoongi missing hours!!!!! but for real though, i wish yoongi is doing great and is always surrounded by good people who can give him the support he needs + remind him how loved he is :(

[i-want-men-i-cant-have]

.. ❝ When You Were Alone,

I Was There Too ❞ ..

HOW THE VAGASTROM BOYS WOULD ACT IF THEY WERE YANDERES. ft. alan mido, leo kurosagi, & sho haizono

wc : 1.2k

warnings : sfw, gender neutral reader

request : Helloo! I saw that your requests are open and when i saw that you wrote for Frostheim i could not resist (not when there's barely any content for tdb that i could get my grubby hands on, let alone yandere). Anyway! I was thinking how would yan! Vagastrom act around with the reader? Take your time and hopefully this isn't uncomfortable :3 

ALAN is the most reasonable, violence-wise. sure, he has an ogre-like quality, but whoever said he wanted to hurt you? and, of course, whoever said he couldn’t hurt the people around you?

he might be one of the few yanderes who understand that you like your friends, and that makes you happy. if you’re happy, he’s happy—simple as that. however, if he starts doubting those “friendly” touches on your arm or the overly obnoxious laughter, he can just as easily take that privilege away.

even with all his ideas, the way he cares for you is oddly innocent. it’s sort of like those kids who take revenge in dodgeball or tag after their crush gets out—except it extends outside of the game…

mostly, it’s just roughing people up so they don’t talk bad about you. in reality, those girls in your class were just pointing out the sauce on your shirt that vaguely looked like something funny.

still, there’s no stopping him, so don’t waste your breath trying to explain your side of the story. he knows what he heard and saw. you don’t need to step in with excuses; you’re too kind for that.

he always has your “happiness” in mind, no matter what he does. this is all for your sake.

he’d definitely have a photo of you in his wallet or, when he goes on missions. maybe even a tiny locket with your picture inside. he’d get teased relentlessly for it, but he’d never stop wearing it.

maybe i’m stretching, but i see him as the type to have a secret shrine to you hidden in his room. it wouldn’t be anything big or extravagant, just something mellow—a lock of your hair here, a framed candid photo there, and a few candles sprinkled in. it gives him motivation, knowing that you’ll be there (in his heart) when he gets hurt because you’ll be there to (poorly) patch him up.

he’d be holding back drool if you bandaged his hands after a mission. you’d just assume his hands were twitching from exhaustion—or some medical term you’re not familiar with—when in reality, he’s trying not to pounce on you and show everyone who you belong to. we have to respect his self-control.

LEO the freak he is. we all saw what this man did with the takeru case—god knows what he’s capable of if he puts his mind to it.

he’s more of a traditional yandere than the other two: stalking, jealousy, manipulation—the works. and he wouldn’t even make it seem like a big deal. somehow, he’d make you so paranoid that you’d turn on everyone else except him, all while acting like it’s just another average afternoon.

he’d have the mindset of a love-sick high school girl crushing on a guy in the hallway who just broke up with her friend—so technically, she can’t like him.

he’d be burning holes into the back of your head, keeping a journal full of manifestations where you run to him and confess your love.

he curses every single person who talks to you or befriends you. he’s the only one worthy of you. why can’t you see that? (probably because he acts like you’re the devil incarnate.)

he’d blackmail some scary-faced sweetheart into chasing you home every day, not in a b-list horror game way, with losing stamina and blood-curdling screams, but in a psychological way. you’d feel someone watching your every move, sensing the breath down your neck as you walked home.

your stalker probably just thinks you’re available—or so leo tells you. “if this little stalker of yours knew you had a boyfriend, they’d back off. especially some scary man from vagastorm.”

alan? aww, that’s so precious leo could just die and take you with him! post it for the world to see!

clearly, he’s talking about the person who has dirt on every single per—no he’s not talking about tohma.

and you can’t forget they need to be attractive. good looking yet mysterious, aloof… are you schizophrenic? what janitor are you talking about?

him. the person is him.

if you have such low expectations for others, maybe you should leave yourself in his care. after all, he’s there for you: to protect you, to listen, to scare off anyone—all for you.

if only you realized he’s the one you should truly be afraid of. a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

soon, you start closing yourself off from your friends, all thanks to leo. but it’s really your fault, isn’t it? he keeps telling you not to trust them. “there’s no one stalking you,” they’d say. “you’re weird for making that up—for what? attention?” they’d accuse. so why bother trusting them when they wouldn’t believe you in the first place?

next thing you know, your friends are avoiding you. and all you have left is leo.

if only you realized they weren’t avoiding you—they were avoiding him. or maybe it was those marks on the back of your neck that you hadn’t noticed yet.

SHO would be the most reasonable of the three. it’s not like he wants to kidnap you and make you taste-test all his dishes while using his thumb to wipe stray sauce off your lips. oh, yeah, no. definitely not… he just doesn’t want to break the bond you already share. besides, it’d be a pain to explain why the honor roll student is locked in his room surrounded by twenty stacks of sandwiches.

there are other ways to get his point across. for example, he might “accidentally” brush against someone looking at you too much—with his motorcycle. who cares if bonnie has to be revoked for a month or two? the point will be made, and it’ll spread across campus.

sho respects both you and the art of cooking too much to consider drugging you. at least at first. but after a few months (weeks at most), he’s finally cracking, giving you the worst case of food poisoning in darkwick’s history (which, in reality, is just a slight tummy ache and a fever).

he’ll take care of you, curse the cafeteria attendant, and insist it wasn’t his cooking. don’t be rude—it’s obviously the school lunches! you know how stingy schools can be.

he’d use your illness as a chance to get closer to you: making soup, hand-feeding you, placing a cold towel on your neck, and rubbing your back as you throw up a third of your body weight. he might even clean your room (and pocket a few things, but who’s counting?).

can’t you see it? he has it all—he’s caring, can take care of you, and even cleans! come and get it while it’s hot, or before he’s off the market!

not strictly yandere, but i can see sho scaring you on a motorcycle ride. he wouldn’t actually scare you, but rev the engine, and go slightly over the speed limit, just enough to have you clinging to him for dear life. he’d memorize your scent and, the second he gets back, he’s inhaling the spot your body touched on his jacket.

[ivymarquis]

Say You Won't Let Go

Greedy Little Thing

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 4.3k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Zombie!AU, PiV, Oral (F!Receiving), pregnancy sex, wee bit of lactation kink

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If you thought your solo play time in the shower would calm you down, you thought wrong. 

You’re truly spinning out and losing your mind. That is the only reasonable explanation for the level of arousal flooding your system at the moment. 

All of a sudden you can’t help but be keyed into John’s every move. And surely you are projecting every depraved thought squirming around in your little brain- you’re imagining that he’s encroaching that much more into your personal space. His hands- broad and warm- gentle as always feel a bit firmer with his hold as he either brushes past you or herds you where he wants you.

You’re distracted, eyes fixated at the boarded up windows like they’re a big screen showing your favorite sitcom. The book you found lies open on the table, failing to capture your interest in favor of your imagination. Of another universe where John’s interest isn’t a figment of your imagination and he’s willing to do something about it. 

“Something on your mind, Love?” John’s voice startles you out of your thoughts and has you jumping on reflex. “Easy- ‘s just me,” he soothes as he crosses the distance from the doorway to the table you’re sitting at. 

“Nothing important,” you answer breezily, trying desperately to hide that you were just thinking about the various ways he could fold you like a piece of paper. Can always lie and claim to be reminiscing on the past.

He has no reason to doubt you, the rumbling hum of acknowledgment from him showing that you’ve not gained any unwanted attention. 

You don’t know what’s wrong with you, what all of a sudden has you acting like a cat in heat. The only thing you haven’t done at this point is lift your skirts and bend over the table in invitation. 

Any hope you may have of getting back into your book is dashed as he comes closer. 

You’ve never been one to fixate on how a man smells- and not even cologne, since that’s not an option these days really. But how he actually smells- you have no idea if you’re pulling off subtle well, but he smells divine and you know nothing will get done if you don’t get a hold of yourself. 

Hopefully your sinful thoughts are not evident on your face, but if they are then he doesn’t call you on it. 

It’s not uncommon for John to leave you alone for stretches and sporadically swing by to check on you. You know he’s in the neighborhood lurking for supplies and hoping to scrap up radio parts. 

The drop ins soothe your anxiety- that he is just across the street, or a few houses down. 

Although it’s still the end of the world and anything can happen. You begrudgingly accept that he has to leave on occasion so you don’t starve to death in the middle of winter in this frozen tundra.

“Gonna need to go further out today, Love. Not sure when I’ll be back.”

Your displeasure is blatant across your face. 

“None of that, now,” he reproaches firmly. “I’ll come back when I can. I want you back upstairs before the sun goes down.”

You’re pouting like a child, your earlier fantasies completely derailed as your thoughts swirl around the anxiety of being abandoned. Of course there’s a part of you that knows this is an inevitability. There’s only so many supplies in the area. John is reluctant to move you, knowing that the pair of you are relatively safe and hidden which means he’ll have to move further out to scavenge to care for you.

Your lack of an immediate response prompts him to reach out and cup your face, prying your mind from your surly thoughts. By now you know him well enough to understand the cue for what it is- a silent ask for you to soften back up to him and quit being a brat about him leaving. 

The logical part of your brain understands that there’s no choice considering you don’t wish to starve to death. Unfortunately until further notice your hormones are what call the shots so you can’t help yourself other than to be in duress over the thought of John leaving you for more than a few hours. 

“Why are you being difficult, hm?” He ponders, tone substantially softer than one might expect.

“I’m not trying to be,” you protest gently, settling into his hold. 

“And yet here we are,” his tone is more amused than anything else.

His free hand drops to your belly, something that immediately garners the attention of your baby who gives a volley of kicks. 

“You can’t wind him up and then leave me here alone to deal with him,” now it’s your turn to reproach John good naturedly.

Again, you blame your hormones. You like John’s hands on you- like John touching you. 

“He’ll be a good lad for his mummy, won’t he?” He prompts the baby, and you don’t protest as his hand smooths down your belly. 

This time your child is not called to action, deciding to spare your poor ribs from another litany of kicks. You decide to not question the way he immediately quiets down at John’s prompting. 

Despite the conversation you just had, you can’t help but pout and mope as John leaves. You keep it to yourself, even though you know your anxiety is bleeding through and he knows exactly what your thoughts on the matter are. 

There’s nothing to be done for it though, so you’re left alone with nothing but Fred’s shadow and your child for company.

You listen to John’s request and begin your trek up the stairs just before it starts to get dark. The natural lighting in the house is weird and casts odd shadows. It's overcast and a new moon, which will leave little to guide you with when the sun goes down.

With only your thoughts to occupy you, you think about silly little things because if you don’t then you’ll be cognizant of the crushing realization of your solitude. That John is out there somewhere in the murky darkness and there is no guarantee that he will come back to you. 

You’d have made a piss poor military wife.

It’s easier to think about how things could be in another life- if you would have met the handsome captain in some bar and flirted shamelessly in the hopes that he liked you enough to take you home and show you a good time.

That you were at his home, in his bed, with his baby nestled under your ribcage.

But you’re not, although in a way you are as close to that fantasy as you can get. 

You’re tucked into the little hidey hole that John has chosen to squirrel you away, waiting for his return upstairs just as he asked while your child does somersaults and uses a kidney for soccer practice.

Somewhere between bouts of fretting, you manage to fall asleep. It’s certainly not the best sleep of your life by any stretch but you’ve also had worse without question.

It’s also easily disrupted. There’s a part of you that is still keen to your surroundings- that’s still aware that you’re alone in the dark and the cold, and that to truly slip under the haze of sleep could sign your death warrant.

You don’t quite wake at the sound of the door creaking, but you drift that much closer to the land of the living. 

It’s when the bed dips under his weight that you stir, partly in offense at the cold air that creeps under the covers with him.

The greeting that escapes you is more of a whine than anything else, hands grabbing at him and trying to burrow under the weight of him.

“I’m right here, lovely- told you I’d be back.” He soothes you like an over reactive pet that’s absolutely enthralled with his return and showcasing it by trying to crawl into his skin.

He’s warm, a welcome reprieve from the biting cold waiting for you just outside your blankets. You want to melt at the sensation of his hands on your back. You’re a puddle of a human being in his hold.

And somewhere between your squirming and his soothing, you’re not completely sure who ends up kissing who first but you have zero complaints.

Quickly your searching hands find purchase on him, just as his anchor you to him.

You’re drowning, you think- head dizzy, completely disoriented as lust burns through you. This is everything you’ve been pining for and now that it’s in your hold you don’t quite know what to do with it. 

John rolls you gently onto your back as the pair of you break for air- hovers above you, mindful of your belly while still not being too far away.

“Tell me to stop,” he looks as flustered as you feel, and a part of you preens in the knowledge that you’ve impacted him the way he’s impacted you. That you haven’t been the only one yearning for more. 

“Please don’t s-“ you don’t even finish the sentence before he’s on you again, the covers rustling as he shuffles to position himself closer to you.

“Good girl” he praises against your lips, the words itching something seated deep inside you.

John’s hands roam your body, searching for the hemline of your dress only to hike the skirt up to your hips once he finds it. 

“Please,” you whimper and try to arch under his touch. 

Rather than immediately diving under the skirt of your dress, he continues to feel up your chest, back, hips and thighs. You could practically melt at the attention, gladly feeling him up in turn before your hands grope down his chest to pry at his shirt. Your make out is briefly interrupted as he shucks his shirt, although in the dim lighting of the dark it’s hard to fully appreciate everything he’s displaying at the moment.

“God, you are soft,” he marvels, lips leaving yours to kiss down your neck. 

You realize that he’s trying to keep the covers over you as he works your dress up your body, pooling the fabric around your collar bones as his attention drifts from your neck to your sternum.

One hand gropes at a breast as he teases your nipple with his tongue, immediately making you gasp and grab his hair. 

“Gentle!” You correct him- while under normal circumstances his grip on you would have been perfectly acceptable, you’re currently very pregnant and part of that means your chest has been sore the last few weeks. You’re so sensitive now. 

“I’m sorry, lovely. I’ll be gentle,” he apologizes, and you relax back into the mattress.True to his promise, John is far more careful of where he gropes and kisses, delighting in all the noises you make.

The sensitivity in your breasts has you squirming underneath him, whining in pleasure.

You feel strung out and desperate, some nebulous part of you aware that you're in trouble if you're already this amped up and he's barely begun to touch you yet.

Arching into his hold, you both freeze at the same moment you feel something akin to a release in the pressure of your chest. You haven't quite been sure when you would start actually lactating- knowing that the real stuff wouldn't come in until after birth, but knowing that there was the colostrum prior.

You're not quite sure what you feel. Flustered? Relieved? Embarrassed? But John remains unflappable, a mere "Tastes sweet" before returning to the task at hand.

The hand not anchoring your breast for his mouth drifts down your side, ghosting over the fabric of your underwear. You're wet- keenly aware of how his fingers trace across your skin. Gooseflesh rises in the wake of his touch, something to do less with the all encompassing chill that you two are trying to avoid and more to do with the lust that is firmly growing in your belly. The gusset of your panties doesn't take long to soak as he teases you over the fabric.

Your hips twitch, trying desperately to follow his fingers. 

You want more. It's been so long since you've had anyone touch you, and the weight of John over you feels phenomenal. "Please, John- I need you to touch me." Never in all your days have you actually begged a man to touch you, but your life has just been full of unexpected surprises lately.

"I'll take care of you, lovely- gotta be patient," he consoles you, paired with a teasing suck of one nipple before moving across your chest to get to the other one.

You don't want to be patient. You want him- now- and even though you actively have him right in this moment it's somehow still not enough. You'd say you're like an animal in heat, but animals in heat aren't usually ready to calve at any moment. It's almost alarming how little control you have over your own body right now. You're little more than your most base urges with spread thighs and heaving breaths as you keenly watch him.

"Gotta get you ready for me, sweetheart," he soothes with his words as his hand slips under the waistband of your panties. "'m not a small man- don't want to hurt you."

You feel dizzy just at the thought. You're well acquainted with what he's packing at this point, and the knowledge he's going to try to make sure it's good for you too is enough for you to find what minimal patience you possess.

The feel of his fingertips lightly searching for your clit has your legs spreading and thighs twitching in anticipation. He's an insufferable tease, tracing the pad of one calloused fingertip around your vulva and teasing the seam of your lower lips. Just enough to keep you keyed in on him, hook line and sinker, whining for more like an anxious dog. 

When he finally parts your pussy with his fingers, you arch up into his hold as he spreads your wetness around. "Bein’ such a good girl f'r me" his praise is low and gravely and shoots straight between your thighs. 

God the things that this man could make you do if he asked you nicely.

"John, please!"

"So impatient" he chuckles against your soft skin, nipping at you ever so carefully. Just enough to get your skin between his teeth, the squeal that escapes you more in anticipation than from any actual discomfort.

He shushes you, lapping at the patch of skin that he nipped in a mock apology as the hand slipping between your lower lips slides one finger inside of you.

There's certainly more to his one finger than to your own, and you must be such a greedy little thing tonight because you're still wanting another finger. John is in no hurry it seems, content to rock his one finger in and out of you as your body gets wetter in preparation of future events. 

His hand doesn't leave from between your thighs, but he moves further under the covers where they've obscured him completely, falling around your collar bones. Certainly warmer for the pair of you for him to do this like this, although your hips are already rocking. 

You've got a reasonable guess on what he's about to do, but not being able to physically see him does, you admit, add a certain level of excitement. There's nothing you can do other than lay on your back patiently like a good girl and wait for him to make his next move. His warm breath on your pussy makes you jolt, a thrill shooting up your spine.

 You haven't gotten head in ages- certainly not with your last beau.

"Try to be quiet for me, lovely. Don't need anything outside hearing your pretty noises," is all the warning you get before he's lowering his mouth to you.

It is certainly easier said than done- partly you manage to keep your whines and whimpers down, but it just makes your eyes want to roll back the way John doesn't hesitate to put his tongue to work.With a cursory lap of your vulva, he's quick to hone his attention on your clit while his finger continues to slip in and out of you.

 After a few thrusts of his wrists you have to turn your head and muffle yourself with a pillow as he gives you the second finger you've been so keen for. His fingers stroking you from the inside paired with his tongue on your clit is certainly enough to work you steadily towards your orgasm.

You're not sure that you're going to last much longer when he starts to crook his fingers against the anterior wall of you- seems he knows exactly how to try to wring out every last drop of pleasure from you, and you're more than game to let him.

"John," your whine is a small, pleading thing this time- not the same feverish anxious plea from earlier, attempting to get him to give exactly what you want. This is a softer cry, a plea and an acknowledgement all wrapped together that he will take you where you're trying to go if you'll just let him do it.

Cold be damned, your activities under the sheets have a sheen of sweat breaking out over your skin. You pull the blanket off of you, partially because you're starting to get hot and partially on the reflex that you want to watch him- although that isn't really going to be an option with your belly in the way. "Oh my God, please don't stop,” you beg, perfectly able to picture the smug grin on his face as you feel the vibration of him chuckling in amusement at you.

Your squirming is dealt with swiftly as he grips one of your hips with his free hand, holding you in place as you rock against his mouth. The pleasure coiling in your belly twists down tighter and tighter, your staccato breaths hitching as he pushes you closer to your climax.

Right when the dam breaks, it seems both of you were on the same page- one of your hands clamping over your mouth to muffle yourself right at the moment John straightens a bit and abandons your hip in favor of trying to cover your mouth as well.

Which suddenly puts you in the position of being completely at his mercy- that he's using the hand buried between your legs to see how much he can get you to squeal now that your noises are  muffled to his standard. 

When he lets up, you're dizzy and gasping for air. This is so much more intense than the orgasm you'd brought yourself to in the shower and that one had literally brought you to your knees. There's a part of your brain still cognizant enough that you want to return the favor- That he's made you feel absolutely divine and it's only fair to reciprocate that. 

However, rather than functional words, all you can come up with is to just paw at the top of his pants, mumbling more so than speaking "I want- I-"

Despite your complete lack of clarity, he seems to understand what your mission is regardless.

 "We can worry about that later, Love," he assures you, coaxing you onto your side and getting in close behind you. Despite having just gotten yours, for a moment you are incredulous at the idea that he's about to just tuck you back into bed and go to sleep.Then you realize the covers are still down around your ankles, and your night dress up across your breasts- and, blessedly, that he's pulling down his pants. 

God you wish you could see it, but between the darkness and the angle with him behind you it's not really an option. You can see enough shadows to have a vague idea of where he is behind you, but also the lack of vision is adding to the experience. 

Just groping and touching in the dark like a pair of frisky teenagers trying to not get caught.

"I've got what you need right here, pretty girl- lift your leg up for me," he instructs and you comply immediately. 

Oh God he's big. You knew that, sorta- have been well acquainted with what he feels like pressing up against you with morning wood. And he just told you that you needed to be prepped in order to take him. 

But somehow this feels completely different, and here you are lying soft and compliant on your side with your legs spread wondering how the fuck he's going to make it fit.You're completely gagging for it either way. 

"Please, please, plea-" you beg, head turning his direction in the dark even if you can't see well. Your begging is cut off as he drags his cock across your swollen folds, sensitive from the earlier attention he paid to you. 

"Easy, lovely. Told you I'd take care of you," he instructs, and it takes everything in you to lie still in his hold while he lines himself up with you.

Your mind is spinning a hundred miles an hour, excited by the prospect as he finally pushes the head in and gives a shallow thrust.

His chest is lined up to your back, one hand helping prop up your thigh to give better access. It's the most intimate position the two of you can manage, and it gives you a front row seat as he groans low in the back of his throat.

Oh, you like that noise.

You want to hear him make it again.

"Christ you're warm," he chokes, and a deep satisfaction rolls through you. Just knowing that he's as affected by you, as you are by him is enough to stroke your ego.

"John, I can't wait anymore," you whine, pushing back against him in encouragement for him to move. Since when did you become such a needy little mess? It would be embarrassing if you could bring yourself to care. 

You've been long overdue for a good romp between the sheets, and you are just thrilled to pieces that the captain has decided to be the one up for the task.

"You are an impatient creature, aren't you pet?" His admonishment is a gentle thing, as are his first few thrusts as your bodies acclimate to each other.

"It feels so good. Want you to feel good too," you plead your case, and really who was he to disagree with that?

"Feels fuckin' incredible, lovely, don't you worry about that. Sweet pussy of yours has me like a vice," You push back against his thrusts, eyes rolling as the angle lets him hit that one spot in you. Pragmatically, this position was the best to allow the pair of you to be close to each other while not overcrowding around your belly- allow some level of intimacy, as John is able to get up close behind you, and you can reasonably turn to touch and paw at him. But God is it also working for you as far as bringing you pleasure. Each time his hips bury against the plush of your ass he hits that spot that makes your leg shake in his hold.

"Gonna get you there, lovely, just-" it strokes your ego that he's babbling slightly as he speaks. That he's just as excited to have access to your body, to let you have him like this.

"John, right there- I, ah!- Oh God, right there," your pleading seems to just ramp him up. He's not rough with you by any stretch, just clearly comfortable that he's not going to hurt you and confident that your body's acclimated to take all of him. It's your turn to babble, whimpering and whining in his hold. The hand holding your thigh spread coaxes your leg over his hip, hand drifting back to your clit to stroke the little bundle of nerves.

"Just like that, hm?" he asks you like your eyes aren't almost crossing from how good he's giving it to you.

"Oh my God, please!" your brain's possibly broken. Your entire universe has condensed down to you, and him, and this bed and how damn good he's making you feel. 

A quick study, he's already learned your tells that you're inching closer to your climax.

"You can do it, pet- cum for me. I wanna see your pretty face when you cum all over my cock.”

You’re past words, clinging to him with one hand and the sheets with the other as you breathe and try to relax your tensing body.

“That’s it, good girl- deep breaths,” he coaxes you, and that’s the magic combination to get you seeing fireworks. 

He must still doubt your ability to stifle your orgasm yourself, muffling your noises by grabbing your face and turning it so he can kiss you. You certainly have no complaints, aware by the way his pace changes for a few thrusts that he’s not very far behind you before reaching his own end.

For a moment, the pair of you recline in silence as you come down from your respective highs. The heat the two of you made quickly starts to dissipate in the night with the covers still bunched at the foot of the bed, making you shiver as the cold finally settles back over you.

That movement is enough to bring John out of whatever post coital bliss he was in, shifting behind you to pull out.

“Hang on, love,” he instructs while pulling his pants back over his hips before pulling your dress back down your legs and grabbing the covers.

You feel calm for the first time in days, content to laze on your side with John behind you as he snuggles in next to you.

You remember turning your head back towards him for one last kiss- something slow and soft and gentle- and don’t even realize it when you fall asleep.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

[gojozballs]

Gojo x Reader "How To Escape A Yandere"

Warning: [This story contains themes of Yandere behavior, manipulation, obsessive love, psychological tension, explicit content, self-harm, and dark themes including death and captivity]

Materialist

Gojo Satoru’s obsessive love traps Y/N in a dangerous, yandere relationship as she desperately tries to escape, blurring the lines between captivity and affection.

Author's POV

Four months. That’s how long Y/N had been stuck in this bizarre, unhinged chapter of her life. Four months since she’d wandered into Japan, thinking she was just ticking off items on her bucket list, and well, she still couldn’t quite figure out how she ended up being the personal prisoner of a man with white hair and a ridiculously cocky grin. But here we are. Four months of high-end apartments, luxury cars, and far too much—Gojo Satoru.

But let's rewind, shall we? To the beginning, when life was much simpler. When she was just a regular tourist, trying to figure out what to eat for dinner. And then, of course, there was that one fateful evening in Shibuya...

Shibuya Streets – 9 PM

Y/N stood in the middle of Shibuya’s neon-lit chaos, wondering if she should check out the ramen shop across the street or maybe that weird little café that looked like it was run by a very angry cat. The possibilities were endless, her trip was unfolding like a tourist's dream but nothing could have prepared her for the interruption that would lead to her captivity.

There he was. A literal vision of perfection, strutting down the street like he owned the whole damn place. White hair, a long black coat that looked like it was made by some world-renowned designer, and a scarf that screamed "I’m too cool to care about the weather." He was practically glowing in the dark, making the neon lights look drab in comparison. And Y/N? She did what any sensible person would do.

She stared.

Not subtlety. None. She wasn’t here for a shy glances situation. No, she was staring, and she was making it known. If she could’ve put on a neon sign that said “LOOK AT ME” she would’ve.

And look at her he did. Their eyes met. The universe, for a brief moment, paused and then everything went into slow motion. Y/N gave him the most casual, confident smirk she could muster. She was practically inviting him to make his move. And boy, did he.

He walked toward her with that strut, the kind of walk that says, “I know you’re impressed. Don’t bother hiding it.” And when he reached her, he didn’t even waste time on pleasantries.

“Well, may I know the name of the lady who’s been blatantly staring at me?”

Y/N blinked. He was speaking in her language. Which, okay, wasn’t exactly a shocker, after all but there was something extra about the way he said it. So smooth, like he knew she’d been checking him out the whole time. She wasn’t even that subtle.

Y/N, being the person she was, didn’t flinch. Instead, she smiled and replied, “Well, hello there, sir. I’m Y/N. And who might you be to captivate me so much?”

Gojo chuckled, a sound that was like a warm breeze, and for a moment, Y/N actually considered the possibility that she might have bitten off more than she could chew. But hey, when in Rome or, well, Shibuya right?

“The question isn't who I am,” he said with that signature cocky grin. “It’s why you can’t take your eyes off me.”

Y/N felt a surge of excitement. This was a game. A thrilling, dangerous game. And, of course, she was all in.

“Well,” she purred, “you’ll just have to find out.”

Getting To Know Each Other

Y/N wasn’t sure how it happened. Honestly. One minute she was exchanging playful banter with Gojo Satoru, and the next bam! they were tangled in the sheets of a five-star hotel room, breathing heavily, both far too into each other for their own good.

Gojo, the smug bastard, leaned back on the pillows and let out a satisfied sigh. “Didn’t take you for a woman with experience,” he teased, his voice low and lazy.

Y/N, who was already not in the mood to let him win any round, raised an eyebrow and gave him a playful side-eye. “Well, I didn’t take you for a guy who whimpers.”

She swore she saw a flicker of surprise flash in his eyes, and it made her grin like a devil. Gojo, the untouchable, the most powerful person in Japan whimpering? he thought. Oh, this was getting good.

“You should know,” Gojo said, propping himself up on his elbows, “you were way more vocal than me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, feigning innocence. “I didn’t realize that.”

“Really?” Gojo’s voice was a dangerous whisper. “Well, let’s check again, shall we?”

And just like that, another round began.

Present

Now, four months into this unplanned, absurdly complicated mess of an adventure, Y/N had one very simple, very clear goal: escape.

But there was just one tiny problem. Gojo Satoru. The man was everywhere. Literally. She tried to leave for groceries, and boom, there he was, “accidentally” showing up at the store. She tried to sneak out at night, and suddenly, there he was smiling like a Cheshire cat.

“You know, Y/N,” he’d say with that maddening grin, “you can’t run away from me. You’re mine now.”

It was cute at first. But after a while, it got... not so cute. The guy was like a relentless puppy that you couldn’t shake off, except the puppy had limitless power and a twisted sense of humor.

And the worst part? Sometimes, just sometimes, Y/N found herself thinking: What if I didn’t escape?

But nah, that thought was far too dangerous, and she quickly shoved it to the back of her mind. For now, she was focusing on how to, once again, dodge Gojo’s very real and very possessive grasp. But if you ask her, she might just tell you that escaping was a little overrated.

Because let’s face it, Gojo Satoru was a whole lot of trouble, but damn, was he fun to mess with.

Still, if she really wanted to escape a yandere like him, she’d have to get creative. Pretend to like his weird, obsessive affection? Nah, that’s too much of a horror show even for her. The trick? A mix of patience, subtle sabotage like hiding his sunglasses good luck going anywhere without those, Gojo and a touch of psychological warfare. And if that didn’t work, well, maybe she’d just have to fake an even more ridiculous obsession than his and watch him lose his mind. It was a gamble, but Y/N was good at playing games especially when the stakes were her freedom. She doesn’t care about the consequences; all she knows is that she will escape."

The Only Way Out Is to Get Help

First things first: I need to get help. It’s my only shot at escaping from him. If I can reveal Gojo’s true nature, maybe I’ll stand a chance. Every Saturday, a blonde guy in a suit and another man would come over. Gojo always tells me to stay in the room. He doesn’t hide me away from them, but he doesn’t let me interact with them either. So, the timing is crucial. It’s 5 PM now, and they’ll be here around 7. My mission? Stay out of that damn room before he locks me in.

I smile sweetly, playing my part. "Hey, would you let me make you some apple pie tonight? I’ve got all the ingredients." I settle into his lap, his hand sliding possessively over my thigh. One thing about Gojo Satoru? He’s obsessed with sweets, and I know this will keep me out of the room, at least for a little while.

"Aww, baby, you’re the best!" he gushes, and before I can pull away, his lips find mine in a flurry of kisses. I smirk internally. He’s so easy to manipulate when it comes to his weaknesses. This could work if I time it just right.

In the kitchen, I hear the door creak open. I don’t see them, but I know they’ve arrived. The penthouse is huge, but I can hear the sound of their voices echoing down the hall. Gojo’s voice, sharp and commanding, calls out to me.

"Sweetcheeks! How’s the pie going?"

I freeze. My heart starts racing. What if he makes me go to the room? I scramble to keep my composure. "Well, it’s almost done, but I need to keep an eye on it," I stammer. My hands tremble as I pour juice into two glasses. I need to move fast. I can’t let him lock me away.

"Alright, I’ll just be over here for a second… Stay away from the visitors, yeah?" Gojo’s voice isn’t a suggestion it’s a threat. I nod hastily, hoping to hide my anxiety.

This is it. I take a deep breath and make my move.

I step into the living room, hands shaking slightly as I walk toward the two men. They glance at me, and then they stand up, clearly taken off guard by my sudden appearance. The blonde man gives me a polite smile, but there’s something too practiced about it.

"Good evening."

"You didn’t have to. We’re leaving soon anyway," the other man says, his voice neutral as he glances at the juice in my hands.

I can’t waste time. This is my only chance. "Listen to me closely," I say, voice shaking with urgency. "I need to get out of here right now. Please… you have to help me."

Both men look at me, but there’s no shock, no surprise just a quiet understanding, like they’ve heard this before. The blonde man steps closer, his eyes searching mine. "What do you mean?"

My heart pounds in my chest as I spill everything, my voice trembling. "I’m being held captive! By that man. I’ve been here for months! Against my will!" My words come out in a rush, desperate to get them to understand.

But their reactions are not what I expect.

The blonde man simply tilts his head. "Seems like Gojo-san’s stories weren’t exaggerated after all."

I blink, completely thrown off. What the hell do they mean by that? They’re... acting like this is normal?

The smaller man in the suit adds, almost casually, "Well, that’s just Gojo for you."

I stand there, frozen, my mind reeling. They’re not even reacting like it’s a big deal. No shock, no concern just another day at the office for them. It feels as though they’ve seen this all before, as if it’s just another facet of Gojo Satoru that they’ve come to accept. They don’t question it. They don’t intervene.

Before I can ask any more, Gojo’s voice cuts through the air, laced with a dark warning. "Causing a scene, sweetcheeks? I told you to stay away from them."

His hand grabs my chin, forcing me to look up at him. There’s no playfulness in his gaze now just raw, unrelenting darkness. "Do you want to see another man that badly?"

And then it hits me. I understand the twisted truth. Gojo isn’t keeping me away from them to protect me. He’s doing it out of jealousy, that sick, possessive urge to control every inch of my life.

The worst part? These men... they’re not surprised. They don’t care. They just accept that this is Gojo’s way, and that’s how things are. There’s no saving me from this nightmare.

I shiver, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me break. I have to find another way because if I stay here any longer, I might lose whatever little of myself I have left.

Freedom in Death

It’s been two weeks since I tried my first escape, two weeks since my wrists were marked by the desperate attempt. The bruises are healing, but the frustration? That never fades. Sure, Gojo’s given me everything: luxury gifts, food so expensive it could make anyone feel guilty, and experiences I’d never known existed before I met him. I should be happy, right? But no, I’m suffocating. It’s not the lavish life I thought I’d always wanted.

I need to disappear. The plan this time? To vanish completely, to make myself a ghost. The thought that Gojo could easily erase me from existence, make me a missing person without even breaking a sweat, has been haunting my every thought. He has power that could bury me without a trace.

I’m already numb, the luxury around me like glitter on a dead body.

“Y/n, babyyyy, I bought caviar for dinner!” Gojo’s voice cuts through the heavy silence, too cheerful for the mood I’m in. I hate it, that forced brightness in his tone that only makes me feel more like a prisoner than anything else. He’s always there, smiling, watching, like I’m just one more toy to add to his collection.

I sigh, my breath heavy as I reply, “Alright, let me just wash up.” My voice is flat, detached, like I’m talking through a haze. It doesn’t matter, though. He wouldn’t care. I walk into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Not that it’ll stop him. Gojo can break anything, but for now, I’ll indulge myself in this small act of control.

The tub is cold. I keep my clothes on as I sit down, the knife beside me gleaming with dark potential. This is it. I can end it all. No more hiding. No more pretending I don’t want to escape from the nightmare of Gojo’s love. He thinks he’s the sun, that he can shine on everyone and anyone—but not me.

I lift the blade slowly, positioning it on my wrist. The cold steel makes my heart race, my fingers trembling as I whisper into the silence, “I hope you take karma for this, Gojo Satoru.”

The first cut stings. I let out a shaky breath, watching the blood spill out like it’s finally leaving the prison inside me. I don’t stop there. No, I dig deeper. I carve out my pain, feeling the red warmth spread. I welcome the dizziness, the fading light. It’s almost... peaceful.

But then... his voice.

“Sweetcheek, why are you taking so long in there?” Gojo knocks, his voice casual, like he’s asking me about dinner, not about what I’m about to do. I don’t answer.

He doesn’t try to break down the door, which is laughable. He doesn’t know. He thinks I’m just taking a long bath, but he’s wrong.

I’m dying in here.

I can hear his footsteps getting closer. I can hear his stupid, careless voice call my name. “Y/n? Baby?” The door rattles, and then I feel his hands, pulling me into his chest, his breath hitching as he realizes what I’ve done.

I smile weakly, feeling the world spin. This is satisfying, in a way. His panic, his desperation. The way he holds me like I’m a fragile thing that could break. But he doesn’t understand.

“Y/n?! Baby? No, no, no...” His voice cracks, and my heart stabs like the knife in my wrist. Tears? Is he crying? Oh, how deliciously unexpected. I want to laugh.

But I don’t have the strength.

“Don’t you close your eyes, baby,” he says, his voice trembling, his hands shaking as they press against my skin. "This isn't over."

And then everything fades to black...

I wake up in a bed I didn’t ask for. A bed surrounded by the faint scent of antiseptic, the echo of voices too close, too suffocating.

“She’ll be fine now, Satoru,” a woman’s voice says. It’s calm, too calm.

“Maybe you should stay here in the meantime, just to be sure, Shoko,” Gojo’s weak voice follows, barely above a whisper.

“She’s fine. Just keep an eye on her like you always do,” the woman, Shoko, says. I can almost hear the roll of her eyes, the distance in her words.

And then I realize it. I’m still here. I’m still trapped. I couldn’t even escape with death.

I want to scream...

A month has passed with Satoru never leaving for work, staying by my side to ensure I won't try anything like that again. The days drag on, but I force myself to heal, to put on the appearance of recovery. Because as soon as I’m whole again, another plan will begin. And this time, nothing will stop me...

Yandere by Choice, Not by Heart

If I could match his vibe back then, I could definitely do it again. You know, the whole “pretend to be just as obsessed” routine until he finally cracks and gives me the freedom I want. So far, this little game has been almost too easy. He thinks I’m just needy, but I’ve got my eyes on the prize freedom. The one thing I’ve learned about Gojo Satoru? He’s a busy man, and he takes his job seriously. If I can keep up this act, I can make him so wrapped up in me that he’ll fold. At least, that’s the plan.

As I feel his arms slip from around me, I can tell the routine is starting. He’s always so punctual, always so... serious about his work. It’s cute, really, but today? Not today, not when I need him to stay in bed with me just a little longer.

“Toruuu…” I whined, pulling him back to me. “Where you going?”

He froze, half standing and half leaning over, looking like the workaholic he is. I took that as my cue and immediately tugged him back down, burying my face in his chest and sniffing him like he’s some kind of scent-filled snack. Just like he does to me. His scent? Pure temptation.

“Oh sweet cheeks, what’s up with you?” He chuckled, his voice a low, smooth purr as he stroked my hair. “You know it’s time for me to get ready for work.”

I made a dramatic, exaggerated groan. “But I need you hereeee.”

Mentally, I cringed at my own words. Did I just say that? Yeah, I did. Whatever. He loves it. He’s not going anywhere. He’s gonna stay with me and—wait for it—skip work for me.

“Oh, really?” Gojo chuckled, his arms tightening around me as if he’s considering it. “Alright, since you’ve never been this sweet, maybe I’ll skip today.”

Yes! Victory! My first win. I mentally fist-pumped, but on the outside, I kept the act up, batting my lashes at him like I had no idea what I was doing.

"Thank you, Toru," I said in my best innocent voice, nuzzling into him. “I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Days Passed...

My plan? Keep turning up the obsession. I’m practically a step away from being more needy than he is. And you know what? It’s working. Slowly but surely, it’s working.

There was that one day when I insisted we shower together. Nothing too extreme, just a bit of skin-to-skin to remind him that, yes, I am always this close to him.

“Mm, I love when we shower together,” I purred, pretending to casually reach for the shampoo, brushing my body against his.

Gojo smirked, his usual cocky grin spreading across his face. “Yeah? You just want to see me naked.”

“Maybe,” I teased, “but mostly, I just love when you're all wet and slippery.”

His eyes darkened for a second, but he quickly recovered. “You're a mess, you know that?”

“Oh, but I’m your mess.” I grinned up at him.

He just laughed, as if he enjoyed every second of it. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head, trying to decide if he should be more amused or concerned.

But wait, there’s more.

I also started following him everywhere. I mean everywhere. To the bathroom at night? I’d insist on accompanying him. Peeing together? Sure, why not. We’re close, after all. Besides, he never seems to mind when I casually slide into the bathroom with him at two in the morning.

“Really, Y/N? You’re going to watch me pee?” he teased one night as I leaned against the doorframe, casually inspecting my nails.

“I’m not watching,” I replied with a wicked grin. “I’m joining.”

The night didn’t stop there, though. After all, if we’re going to do this, let’s do it right. We had to have our “three times a day” sex quota. Why not? It’s not like we had anything better to do, right?

“You’re insatiable,” Gojo said, breathlessly flipping us over mid-session as I moaned against him. “You sure you’re not the one obsessed here?”

“Why, Toru, I am obsessed,” I whispered in his ear, my lips brushing against his skin. “But you're the one who started this.”

And oh, he did. He absolutely started it. Now I had him where I wanted him: in every way possible.

The Ultimate Game

Okay, so maybe I got a little carried away. He loved when I ate off his plate. He loved when I insisted on eating from the same spoon as him. A little weird, but it worked. At least he didn’t seem to mind. He seemed... content? Happy? Maybe?

“Seriously, Y/N?” Gojo asked, as I snatched another piece of sushi from his plate. “You’re eating all my food.”

“I’m just making sure you’re not starving,” I said sweetly, taking another bite. “We’re basically one. So it’s only fair, don’t you think?”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” He shook his head, a smirk dancing at the corner of his lips. “If you want to eat off my plate, you’re going to have to share the bathroom with me every time I go in there.”

“Done.”

Oh, and don’t forget the bathroom negotiations. Every time I would "need" some alone time, I'd make sure he waited outside the door. Not to pee or anything oh no, I was doing my business but it was all a part of the game. And guess what? He was starting to enjoy it.

“Really, Y/N?” Gojo said, sitting casually against the doorframe, smirking at me. “You’re going to make me wait outside?”

“Yep. You’re lucky I’m even letting you know what’s going on in there.”

It was a lot of fun, but I couldn’t help the nagging thought in the back of my mind... Was I starting to lose myself in this little game?

It’s working. It’s all working. All the clinginess, all the obsession, it’s finally making him bent to my will. And every time he smirks, every time he looks at me with that dangerous, half-amused, half-worried look, I know he’s in it now.

“Be as obsessed as he is,” I thought to myself, a wicked grin on my face.

But maybe... just maybe... I was starting to like it.

The Endgame

Okay, okay. Maybe escaping was a bit… ridiculous. Who needs to escape anyway? The more I thought about it, the more I realized: What if the real escape wasn’t about running? What if the escape was just… getting lost in this whole twisted, insane mess?

It was starting to hit me maybe he wasn’t that bad. I mean, sure, Gojo Satoru was possessive, borderline obsessive, and utterly impossible to shake off, but let’s be real: when was the last time anyone was this dedicated to loving you? Hell, it’s practically a rarity these days. Most guys can’t even commit to a dinner reservation, let alone a life sentence with someone like me.

So yeah, maybe he stalks me like a possessive ghost. Maybe he follows me everywhere, even into the bathroom 'I really wasn’t expecting him to just chill outside while I… did my thing, but hey, that’s true commitment'. Maybe I kind of like it.

And let’s not even mention the whole “skipping work” thing. Seriously, it’s like he’s a workaholic... unless I pout and bat my lashes, and suddenly he’s throwing his entire career out the window for me. It’s not like I forced him into it… too much. Who wouldn’t want to feel this wanted? That’s basically an act of love, right?

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 20

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! An unlikely flirtation turns into a dark obsession... Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw/involuntary captivity. -> all chapters

Twenty. 二十

He was right, of course. 

Donaka takes you up to the very top of the Peak for a fabulous view of the city and the blue harbour below. It’s touristy but so fun, and in his company it feels all new again.

He takes you for a walk through Victoria Gardens nearby, a quieter little park you didn’t visit on your birthday foray. He holds your hand, and the two of you chat while you stroll, and it’s possible you lean on him more than you have to in your tall shoes. 

He doesn’t rush you while you admire the flowers, taking pictures of some of the bright tropical blossoms you like best with his phone for you. You even goad him into taking a selfie with you, his long arm extended as you both snuggle for the camera with the azure-tinted cityscape of Hong Kong spread out behind you. 

This little sojourn is tranquil, and sweet, and if you didn’t know any better you would almost feel like the two of you were a normal couple. 

When you return to the car park a pack of young boys are standing around the Bugatti, ogling its svelte mother-of-pearl curves. You find yourself tensing, expecting Donaka to explode when the youngest boy dares to touch the chrome gas cap emblazoned with a dragon, his round features written with awe. 

Donaka speaks firmly to the boys in Cantonese, making them jump, but one of them smiles up at the tall man as though he senses his gang is not completely doomed, and answers with a cheeky lilt and hands on his hips. They chatter back and forth, and you are dumbfounded when your forbidding beau says something to make the boys laugh. You are even more surprised when he pulls a fold of brightly printed Hong Kong dollars from his pocket and hands it to the oldest boy, pointing to an ice cream kiosk across the way. The pack cheers and races for the treat stand, calls of “Do jie! Thank you!” drifting back as they jockey for first place at the window. 

You laugh, so loudly you cover your mouth with your hands. “What did you say to them?” 

“They told me they were guarding the car, so I had to pay them off,” Donaka answers with a smirk and a glint of what you think might be admiration in his dark eyes. “Quite the racket.” 

You feel your heart swelling annoyingly in your chest. 

It doesn’t escape you that he could have staged this whole thing just to pull at your heartstrings. And yet…you don’t think so, even if only just because you don’t want to. 

With a low rumble in his chest he backs you against the car with a step into your personal space. “Still think I’m a bad man, bunny?”

“Maybe,” you answer with a little smile, craning your neck to look up at him.

This earns you a bark of laughter and the glitter of dark enjoyment in his eyes; he’s so beautiful it���s intoxicating, a spreading warmth like pure opium rushing through your limbs, straight to your brain–and your loins. You are not thinking clearly, as your hands slide to rest on the flat of his chest. 

You do not care as much as you should, that one way or another, you’re being bamboozled by this dangerous man. 

“Smart girl.” 

He ducks down to claim his prize, his soft lips pressing to yours. You feel like you’re floating, and you decide that at least for today, you don’t care that you must have lost your sense of self-preservation somewhere back on Tai Tam Road. 

***

By the time you make it back to the underground garage tucked neatly under Donaka’s house, you are feeling warm, and pliable, as though you drank too much too fast, or maybe you’re just overdosing on dopamine. You can’t put your finger on it just yet, but later you will look back and realize that after living in fear for so long, this day of reprieve must have done something considerable to your brain chemistry. 

You’ve never actually been in the garage, and you look around curiously at the array of sports cars in every color. It’s like a museum, every vehicle staged on the high polished floor with its own dramatic lighting. There’s the white Lamborghini you so loathe, a deep blue Bugatti, a burnt orange McLaren, a sporty little Porsche, a BMW something or other, and many others you have no clue as to their identities. 

None of the four-wheeled vehicles catch your eye the way a smaller machine does in the corner.  

“Is that…a motorcycle?” you ask, peering past a beetle-black Mercedes.  

Donaka nods slowly, watching you with some amusement. “Yes.” 

“Do you ride?”

“No, I just like looking at it,” he quips with a smirk. 

Turd.

Just when you thought he couldn't get any more attractive, he goes and pulls this.

You bite your lip, gauging how much you dare ask of him today. “Will you take me for a ride sometime?” 

He chuckles at you, that sparkle of mischief in his polished onyx eyes. You can tell he is narrowly resisting the urge to make a dirty joke. You think he spares you only because you made it too easy. 

“Hmm. Maybe.” He ducks down to kiss you, speaking against your mouth, “If you’re good.” 

“I’m feeling…very good,” you admit brazenly, fancying (perhaps stupidly) that you are safe, and just maybe, a little bit, in love. Your hands slide under his suit jacket, exploring his solid torso as you pull him closer to you. He does you one better, crowding you back against the Bugatti, pressing you into the machine’s hard carapace with his body against yours. 

It should hurt, but there's something to be said for dopamine poisoning. Rather than protest you melt, yielding unto him like putty in his hands. When he withdraws to look down at you his pupils are blown wide, black as a shark’s, and you know he could eat you in one bite. Yet there is a warmth therein no killing machine of the ocean could ever manage; it lodges your heart in your throat. 

“Come on.” He tugs you towards the elevator, and you follow dumbly like the lovesick little idiot you are. 

You can tell he’s trying to take you back to the bedroom, but you can’t stop kissing each other, and the progress is slow. It’s as though the good food and the sun-filled day have cast a cloyingly sweet spell upon the two of you; the world moves in syrupy slow motion, and he kisses you in the hall, pressing you up against the wall, and in the living room against the couch, and at the foot of the stairs, the banister biting into the small of your back as he bends you over with his ardor, his strong hands squeezing your curves like he has all the time in the world to enjoy you. His passion is slow and inevitable as the crashing sea; gladly you withstand these waves of affection, knowing that later you will be bruised and sore and sated as a happy housecat dozing in a sunbeam. 

When you nearly trip over your sky-high shoes on the first stair he sweeps you up into his arms, carrying you back to his lair like you are some rarified prize. In a way, deep down, you can’t help but feel like you have somehow duped this man. For some reason he thinks you are special, that you are a covetable little treasure that he must guard for his own. Surely he will come to his senses at some point…but for now? 

For now, you feel like a queen, as he seats himself on the edge of the bed with you cradled in his lap, tasting you like your lips are his favorite sweet. You giggle and moan as he tips you back onto the bed, falling onto you, utterly engulfing you from above as he pins you with kisses. You know, deep down, that it’s madness on your part that this makes you feel more protected than captured–reality is a tenuous thing, when you are drowning in such a cocktail of lust and love, a lethal dose delivered straight to your bloodstream every time Donaka’s lips touch yours. 

That mouth, so terrible and beautiful, the source of his lies and so much of his power over you, leaves a trail of fire down your skin, from your neck to your chest, his sharp teeth scraping maddeningly at the swell of your breast. His hand beneath your skirts finds your pretty silk panties soaked. 

Ruined. 

You’re absolutely ruined for him, and you don’t know what to do about it that won’t feel like cutting out some crucial part of yourself that you need to live. 

If this is all a trick…you’ll die. 

You’re certain it’s that simple, and you feel yourself surrendering to him with a new degree of foolish abandon. As though he senses this shift in you he draws back to look you in the eye, sweeping your hair tenderly behind your ear with a hand so large it could engulf the entirety of your face. It could hurt you, bend you, break you…you’ve been waiting for it all along, deep down, but instead he is touching you like you really are precious to him, and dear God it’s so unfair you could expire in his arms. 

You expect him to pay you one of those panty-melting smirks that equally makes you want to do violence and melt into his arms. Yet what he offers you is ten times more crippling: his smile is slight, but all warmth, and even while that voice in the back of your head chants stupid girl, stupid girl, you stupid girl!--the rest of you is putty in his hands. 

You watch him with fascination as he sinks to his knees beside the bed, sliding your damp panties slowly down your thighs. “I’ve been thinking about getting under this pretty skirt all fucking day,” he tells you with a searing heat in his dark eyes, before he utterly wrecks you with his lips and his tongue upon your needy, aching cunt. He brings you to the edge of release before withdrawing with one last teasing lick, and through your complaints you are vaguely able to think: there’s the sadist I know. It’s almost a relief, to find yourself in familiar territory, off balance but in a far more familiar way. 

It lasts for less than a minute, as you lay back and watch him undress, divesting himself of his beautiful suit that almost made him seem like a completely different man. You bite your lip hard enough to make yourself bleed, voracious for the sight of the dark god beneath those deceptively light-colored clothes. 

Drawn like a moth to the flame, you push yourself to the edge of the bed, pulling him to you, to your greedy mouth and tongue that craves the salty pearls of precum gleaming upon the tip of his erection. You lap them up like your prize, swallowing him down before taking him deeper into your mouth, your tongue teasing that thick and throbbing vein. He lets you have your way, his long fingers tangled in your hair as you bob upon him at the pace you’ve learned he loves. 

There is foolish triumph in your veins, when you glance up to see his head thrown back in abandon; this powerful man completely unguarded, for you. Only for you, or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

If it’s a lie–you don’t want to know the truth. 

Not yet. Maybe…not ever.  

***

He makes love to you agonizingly slow, his beautiful cock buried so deep inside you that you swear to feel him in your lungs. His blackholes for eyes fix upon yours, inevitably, inexorably, drawing you into him, consuming you body and soul. His bare skin pressed to yours, your legs locked around his narrow hips, inviting him deeper, deeper, until there is no line between you or him. 

If it is a mind-fuck, it is the most skillfully executed deception in the history of man. 

The alternative is almost just as terrifying. You go to pieces together like that, inextricably entwined, his name on your lips like a prayer. He fills you with his hot seed, his face buried in the bend of your neck and his teeth in your shoulder, his iron grip bruising your soft skin–marking you as his everywhere and every way he can.

all chapters

[purplereina11]

New Signing, New Beginning Part 2!

Mia Larsen was Barcelonas new summer signing

Alexia Putellas is a club legend who just can't seem to talk to her

Mia had a few good days in training, and it showed. Her confidence was up, she was walking out for today’s training with Keira, seemed to be a theme Alexia just ahead yet again. As ever near by but never felt the awkwardness she was slowly creating.

Alexia was having an internal conversation with her self hyping her up to make such a simple comment to Mia. She stopped suddenly turning and seeing that Mia looked a bit taken a back, with her sudden spin. Smooth she said to herself, before speaking “Alba couldn’t get that jacket”

“Oh?” Mia said softly Alexia falling in line with her, “How come?” Mia asked after a few beats of silence

“Couldn’t find in her size”

“Shame” Mia looked to Alexia and they held eye contact, when Alexia didn’t speak, Mia broke the silence, “Well..” she broke the eye contact, “Um i seem to be in there a lot lately so i’ll keep an eye out, what size is she?”

“She’s looking for small”

“Ok” Mia nodded pierced her lips together and broke out into a jog to get to training.

+

Mia was in Zara, shocker, after training she was with Julia and her little brother Diego who only agreed to come, as he was told they were going out for dinner after the shops. He didn’t take into account how long two women can stand debating over a top however.

Mia was looking at tank tops when Julia appeared with the pink jacket, “Hey, you know how i love your jacket, they have one small left-“

“Please don’t tell me you’re buying that” Mia gave Julia a dumbfounded expression, “Just borrow mine!”

“Oh” Julia shrugged, “I’ll go put it back”

Mia pointed, “Just leave it there” Mia carried on looking through for her size

“You buy a lot of clothes”

“Surprisingly Julia, living in England i didn’t have many warm weather clothes, i need practically a whole new wardrobe”

Julia sighed, “I best find Diego before he gets himself into trouble”

“Are you buying anything? I’m going to go pay”

“No i’ll just get him and meet you outside”

Mia smiled, “Ok, find out where he wants to eat i can’t be bothered for a 45 minute argument wandering around the same places”

Despite the conversation they still ended up having the same 45 minute argument before settling on the same place they always go.

“So how’s it going? The captain like you yet”

Mia chewing her food shook her head, “I don’t care if she doesn’t like me, you can’t put 22 women together and expect them all to get on, i think as long as we can communicate effectively about football then that’s fine”

“Your tune has changed”

“I’ve come to terms with it, when i don’t get any minutes in the games then come back to me, then i’ll be bothered again”

“She can do that?”

“She’s Alexia Putellas if anyone can she can” Mia shrugged, “I have the same few girls who i speak to, i’m good with that”

Julia looked at her, “Do you hate me that i followed her on Insta today”

Mia laughed softly, “No”

“She’s hot” Mia rose her eyes, “What? I have eyes”

“I’m going to be sick” Diego spoke

“Shut up and eat your paella” Julia said to her younger brother shoving the dish closer to him

Mia pulled a face at Diego about his bossy sister that he laughed at, “When you’re older you’ll understand why she’s grumpy” Mia nodded

“She’s horny and no man will look at her that’s why suddenly she’s decided she likes women”

Mia burst out laughing as Julia was embarrassed and amused all in the same breath by her 10 year old brother. “Diego! How do you even know that word?”

“I’m 10 Julia, i’m not a kid anymore”

Mia was laughing softly, “You’ll always be our baby”

“Gross”

Mia stood up leaning over the table to kiss his face, “You’re so cute”

“You’re pretty, and a nice person, your captain will see that soon”

Mia smiled, “You going to come some of the games?”

Diego nodded, “I’ll get mami to buy me a shirt with your name on and everything”

“I might even show up” Julia smiled never being a fan of football, all the shouting was unnecessary! She didn’t understand how people got so invested in people kicking a ball.

Mia moved her eyes to Julia, “You’re just coming to eye up the players”

“No”

“Yes” Diego agreed with Julia, “You don’t even know the off side rule, that’s like going to church when you don’t believe”

Mia chuckled, “He’s got you there”

+

Mia arrived at training she smiled at the little boy rushing around reception, he took one look at her and went all shy, “Mia” She looked to the receptionist, “No ones answering the locker room phone, can you tell Irene her wife and son are here for her”

“Sure”

“¿cómo te llamas?” Mia looked to the little boy holding his arms over his chest shy but was seemingly so curious of the new face at his mamis work he could over come it.

Mia crouched extending her hand, “Mia, ¿cómo te llamas?”

“Matteo” he shook her hand animately moving it up and down greatly.

Mia told him it was very nice to meet him and that she’d go get his mummy, but Matteo started a conversation. He told her how he was going to the zoo with his school and all the animals he was excited to see. And that he was even getting a packed lunch.

Mia rose to her feet as Irene’s wife introduced herself, “He’s never this chatty, he’s meant to be going today but Irene forgot to sign his permission slip, we both have to sign it”

Matteo took hold of two of Mias fingers took the slip from his mum and told her to wait there he’ll go with Mia then come back he was a big boy and could do it.

Mia laughed softly as he lead the way not giving her much of a say on the matter, “This way” she said to him gently when he turned the wrong way.

“Mami” Matteo spoke pointing ahead of him, “This way?”

“Yeah she’s this way” Mia spoke, “What other animals do you want to see?”

“T-rex”

“T-rex” Mia exclaimed, “I don’t think they’ll be in the zoo” she said with a smile, she got the dressing room, she looked around and Irene wasn’t there. She caught Marta’s eye, “Do you know where Irene is?”

“Yeah they’ve um, they’ve just gone into meeting room 1 if you’re quick you might catch them before they start” Marta got a shy little wave from Matteo when she waved at him, she’d watch this little shy boy grow up to see him happily with Mia was a surprise to her. He normally clung to Irene, Alexia or Maria would get a cuddle if they were lucky on a good day.

“Come on handsome” Mia spoke luckily the meeting room was only mere metres away his little legs not moving him with any pace. She didn’t want to interrupt them if they’d already started.

Mateo turned first pulling on Mias fingers, “Come on beautiful”

Mia laughed with Marta, “Oh wonder where you got all this charm from ay?”

Mia got Matteo to the door and knocked, she heard a come in and when she opened the door, she was met with the coaches and the senior players of the team all turned to look at her and she felt like a bit of a deer in highlights in that moment. Pere smiled, “Hola Mia what can we do for you?”

“Well” she smiled, “I have a little boy out here that just needs a moment of his mamis time if that’s ok”

Matteo stood pressed against Mias leg until he spotted Irene “Mami” Matteo waved the slip at Irene rushing around the table to her

“You a nanny now?” Maria smiled turning more in her chair to look at Mia who smiled.

“Side hustle” Mia nodded leaning on the door frame, “Lucia said if i do a good job i get some of his rice crackers” Maria laughed as for some reason Alexia didn’t want to show her amusement. It showed for a second before she repressed it again. “You think i’m joking” she stood up from the frame.

“You going with Mia back to Mami?” Irene kissed Matteos cheek placing him back down on the ground.

Matteo came around the table, “Come on then handsome” she smiled putting her hand towards him.

Mia smiled down at him, “I coming beautiful” Matteo reached up, “Mia hand, no reach”

“Oh sorry” Mia lowered her hand, “Let’s leave them to there meeting and get you back to Mami so you can go the zoo”

“Mia i want to see monkeys to”

“Oh of course, Monkeys are the best animal” Mia spoke as she shut the door and off they went.

+

Irene found Mia on the training field, “I just wanted to thank you for before” Mia furrowed her brows, “You didn’t have to bring him through like that, it was kind of you”

Mia smiled, “It was no bother” Alexia bent over near them fixing her socks, “Honestly can he come more often the amount of compliments he gave me” Mia laughed softly

“Lucia text when she dropped him off at school, apparently he didn’t shut up about his new friend Mia so I think you won’t have much choice about that”

Mia rose her arms as Keira approached, “Guess what” she said to Keira

“What?” Keira asked giving her a funny look wondering where this was going

“I’ve made my first new friend in Barca” Mia smiled proudly

“Sorry what about me?” Keira asked

“I knew you pre Barca”

“Who’s your friend?”

“Matteo” Mia pointed to Irene who was smiling, Mia seemed always so collected, but when she dropped that ever so slightly, which seemed to only ever be around Keira, she had a little silly side.

“He avoids me like the plague”

“Maybe its that permanent scowl you always have.. honestly its a wonder Laura even entertained you”

Keira dropped her mouth staring at Mias cheeky grin laughing in disbelief, “Rude!”

“Oh calm down grandma”

Keira pointed at her, “Not from you, I’m not accepting it from you of all people, what did you do last night Mia?”

“I went out for dinner with my cousins”

“Then”

“My Grandma taught me to knit” she muttered

“Exactly” Keira gave her a look, “And you can’t question Lauras taste when you dated Katie McCabe for three months”

Irene scrunched her face trying to place the name, “Is that.. the angry little Irish woman?”

“Please don’t judge me.. it was a lapse in judgment”

Keira began walking away backwards to the other side of the huddle, “She’s judging you” she smiled pointing at Irene, who was indeed judging.

Mia sighed placing her hands on her hips, “You don’t know me very well, but I promise I have taste”

Irene laughed as Alexia smiled. Irene had noticed how Alexia hadn’t taken her eyes of Mia but had yet to say a word and Alexia always had something to say usually. “I feel I need to know who your other exes are now, because so far with what I know, I can’t say I believe you”

“Tell them about the hummer Mia” Keira smiled calling across the huddle.

Alexia lowered her head chuckling at the look Mia was giving Keira, if looks could kill as they say, Pere smiled, “What’s this about a hummer?”

Mia put one foot to the side and lowered her head as she put her hands behind her back, she rose her head, “It’s not that interesting of a story if i’m honest..” she smiled

Pere laughed sensing her embarrassment and started the training session with a quick run down of what they were doing and what he needed from her.

The girls were told to separate over the pitch and kick the ball back and to each other, Mia scrunched her face as Keira came towards her motioning they were pairing, Alexia and Mia seemed to be in perfect sync as they kicked the ball and received it. Mia noticed every one else seemed to be having conversations with those around them. Bar her and Alexia. So she struck up a conversation about something surely Alexia would talk about, “That jacket your sister wants”

Alexia looked to her, “She still can’t find it, she’s got everyone looking for it” Mia smiled as she controlled a tricky ball from Keira, “Nice, good control” she felt her cheeks warm at the compliment from the multi award winning midfielder.

Mia sent the ball back, “I went to Zara yesterday after training”

“Do you have second job there?”

Mia laughed as Alexia chuckled at herself, “No” Alexia looked pleased with herself she made her laugh like Mia was the one who had a wall that needed breaking down, “My cousin, she came over with the jacket in a small, last one left” Alexia looked to her after sending her ball back over to Irene who seemed to be paying a lot of attention, “I convinced her to not buy it,” Mia jogged back to control the next ball from Keira and sent it back with one touch.

“Your control” Alexia waved her hand, “Crazy”

“I wanted to be a defender” Mia told Alexia a story she never really shared with people before, it was that interesting but she found herself telling her anyway as a way to make small talk, “But my coach at the time, said with my touch, I had to be a striker and in the box”

“Your coach right” Alexia nodded, “We’re excited to have you here”

Mia pierced her lips together, “Thank you.. anyway, I bought the jacket, I have it with me so you can give it to your sister”

“Gracias, she be very happy, I give you the money” Alexia hid her surprise that Mia did that for her sister, Mia did a touch that made Alexia turn away, “You’re just showing off now” Mia laughed just as the whistle blew.

+

Mia was in the canteen after training having something to eat alone, by choice, when Alexia approached, Mia rose her head. “Can I join?” Mia nodded Alexia sitting opposite her silently, Mia was having an out of body experience she was sat opposite the Alexia Putellas putting a straw into a juice box and sipping it like a child. She looked cute in her soft tracksuit and her hair down wavy. Made her somewhat hardness towards Mia soften. Mia lowered her eyes back to her sudoko when Alexia’s eyes darted to hers and she thought she got away with Alexia not catching her but she did. “Suduko no?”

“Si” Mia spoke filling another number in

“To complicada for me, I can’t do them”

Mia smiled gently raising her eyes, “They relax me”

Alexia rose her eyes, and the soft smiley Alexia Mia had watched her be with everyone else was finally sat before her looking at her with those sparkly eyes with the glint in them, that part was new. “Relaxing, no? Not possible” she laughed gently shaking her head

Alexia felt her stomach flip when Mia smiled at her as she rose her eyes looking at her, “Si possible” she nodded with a little laugh

Mia and Alexia didn’t stop smiling the entire time they spoke, they made each other laugh. Mia found it endearing the biggest name in women’s football was a tad awkward, held herself gently. She was softly spoken towards her like if she spoke to loud it would spook her. Because she had so much aura about her on the pitch, that’s where she was the Alexia Putellas. Confident. Assured. Knew herself. Maybe here she was being just Alexia. Because she seemed none of those things. She seemed, human.

A person despite previous opinions formed, was growing on Mia. Showing a different side.

+

Mia came out reception after the team meeting, Alba spotted her before Alexia did, “Ay” she called Mia smiled seeing Alba with the jacket on modelling it for her with a smile on her face.

Alexia turned to see Mia coming down the steps clearly amused by Alba, “Suits you”

“Gracias” Alba was a hugger. Mia not so much she just let the hug happen. Can’t say no to a Putellas after all. Practically royals of the game.

Mia smiled, “You’re welcome” Mia kept walking as Alexia opened the car door, to Mia that was a signal she didn’t want her sticking around for a chat

“Wait, i owe you money for it” Alba spoke

“Alexia covered it, you owe her not me” Mia called looking over her shoulder

“Ay free jacket” Alba grinned to herself with a laugh

Mia laughed when Alexia frowned at Alba back handing her sister in the arm, she got into her Granddads car as they were seeming to bicker.

+

Mia looked as she got a notification, then an email. Then another notification.

Alexia Putellas has started following you

Alexia Putellas has liked your post

Mia felt, weirdly vulnerable knowing Alexia was looking at her instagram and actively scrolling as the post she liked about her announcing her move to Barcelona was several posts down.

She wondered if she would ever get to the point she would trigger an email when she followed someone because she was big time like Alexia.

+

Alexia locked her phone and placed it down as she was at dinner with Irene. “So i have a question” Irene spoke looking to Alexia, “What’s your deal with Mia?”

Alexia furrowed her brows, “What do you mean?”

“Ale, you seemed to always be around her but never make the effort to talk to her, then three four weeks go by and suddenly you’re seeking her out to have lunch with her and apparently stalking her Instagram” she motioned to the phone now sat down

Alexia sipped her wine, “I don’t know how to be around her”

Irene furrowed her brows but in bounded Maria babbling about it was Ingrid’s fault she’s late and she was hogging the bathroom. Oblivious Maria greeted them both taking her seat and she froze when she saw the look Irene was giving Alexia.

“You don’t know how to be around her?”

“I can’t explain it” Alexia carried on, she was sure Maria would catch on soon enough she didn’t feel she needed to explain.

“Try” Irene prodded

“She doesn’t seem bothered by me, every other person they speak to me whether i want them to or not. They cling and they fuss and they want constant validation from me but her… she doesn’t do that. It’s like she couldn’t care less”

It was like someone switched a light on in Irene’s brain, she didn’t dislike Mia, “You like her”

“Who?!” Maria exclaimed, “Please catch me up, i could flick Ingrid for making me late and missing the vital information”

“Calm down” Irene chuckled, “It’s Mia”

Maria looked to Alexia, “You like Larsen? Gosh i sounded 12 then”

Alexia smiled looking down at the menu, “I find her intriguing we’ll put it that way” Irene and Maria shared a look

“Yet you won’t speak to her. Hardly.” She wasn’t even aware of Alexia’s Instagram stalking. Mapi flipped her menu not making eye contact with Alexia, the pair learned she’s more like to open up if you don’t pressure her or stare at her expectantly.

“I talk to her”

Irene smiled, “If we had a team dinner and we sat her next to you, you would happily sit in silence next to her all night”

“I don’t know what to say to her”

“Talk to her about clothes or skin care, her and Ingrid are always going on about that, honestly who knew you needed so many different face creams.” Maria rolled her eyes, “She was meeting Mia to go face cream shopping like who does that?“

Alexia laughed softly before they ordered their meals conversation halting as the waitress arrived, “Would you date Mia?” Irene asked, Alexia furrowed her brows at that question, “It was just a question” Irene held her hands up as she smiled, “You said yourself, she doesn’t seem bothered by you” Irene shrugged, “Maybe she isn’t impressed by La Reina”

“Then what makes you think she’ll want to date me?”

“That’s my point, she may date you.. for you.”

“I’m not that interesting” Alexia spoke sipping her wine, she looked as Maria’s phone pinged. “That Ingrid?”

Mapi opened the text, “She didn’t mention Mia if that’s what you’re digging for”

“I wasn’t, can we drop it now?”

Maria leant forward and whispered, “She is your type” she sat back up putting her hands up, “Had to be put out there”

“Did it?” Alexia smirked, even she found that funny

The girls had a lovely meal they were having a drink after there meal, Maria checked her phone, it was odd Ingrid hadn’t text she was home, she was only going out for an hour or so she told Maria.

She checked Instagram, she smiled seeing why she hadn’t gone home yet

Mia and Ingrid were talking about her first couple of weeks in Barcelona, how she was finding it. “Daunting coming into a team like this isn’t it, I remember by first couple of weeks, I’d just go home and sleep it was so overwhelming, new country new language new culture, trying to learn the Barca way” Ingrid smiled sipping her wine.

Mia looked up from her wine, “Did you ever get imposter syndrome, like you felt like you didn’t actually belong here?” Ingrid nodded with a soft smile, “I feel like they’re going to turn around any minute and tell me to get lost”

“I’m not just bullshitting you with this, and I shouldn’t be telling you this because Maria shouldn’t of told me.. but in there captains meeting, she said how Aitana and Alexia were singing your praises”

“Alexia surprises me”

Ingrid tilted her head, “Why?”

Mia seemed to hold her breathe as she thought, “I’m not asking for a fan fair or anything from her, but I just seem to get tips from her, and I know its how I’m perceiving it and she probably doesn’t mean to come across like it but I’m taking it as your shit, sort your shit out”

Ingrid smiled shaking her head, “I can hand on heart say, Alexia is a perfectionist and very very self critical, but she’d never push that on someone else, she just wants people to come into things trying there best and wants the best out of them.. she hates loosing, honestly, she was backing you hard in that meeting.”

Mia smiled, “I appreciate that but I will still think she doesn’t want me here”

“Mia” Ingrid tilted her head

A finger came out the side of Mia’s glass pointing at the door opened behind Ingrid, “You will learn very quickly I’m quite self critical to” Mia smirked seeing the face come through the door first, “You have a visitor” she sipped her wine as Irene and Alexia came inside behind Mapi who instantly reached over the table to squeeze Mias hand before hugging Ingrid and kissing her cheek.

“What are you doing here?”

“We were down the road having dinner, saw you were here, came to see how the shopping went?”

Mia leant on the table smiling, “You’ll be pleased to know you’ve got less room in the bathroom” Maria pulled a face at the bags under the table.

“How many face creams do you need?” Maria exclaimed, she pointed at Mia, “You are a bad influence”

Mia smiled shrugged and sipped her wine again, her eyes went to Alexia who was watching her, before Irene caught Mia’s attention, “Matteo said beautiful Mia would love the zoo, they had her favourite animal monkeys”

Mia melted, “He’s just adorable. Why can’t all men be more like him?”

Maria snapped her head so fast she went dizzy, “You’re straight!” She exclaimed

Mia sat up arms open slightly as Irene settle beside her Ingrid moving up one to let Alexia on the bench that side opposite Mia, “Wow.. when Keira told me you have to be gay and have tattoos to play football here I thought she was joking”

Maria laughed reaching to touch her arm, “Love is Love”

Mia giggled, “We’ll have to get you a flag with that on”

“I love flags”

“I’m not doubting you do” Mia smiled

“I’m going to go the bar, what do you want, Ale?” Maria asked Alexia who just pointed at Mia glass,

“Wines fine for me”

“Same again?” Ingrid smiled, Mia nodded, “We should of just bought the bottle” Mia smiled

“I’ll come with you, I fancy something different” Irene stood up with Maria as Ingrid turned on the bench to get out.

“Shall I just get the bottle?” Ingrid asked, “Would you drink that Ale?”

“What is it?” She asked then smiled when Ingrid pulled a face telling her she didn’t know

Mia held her glass to Alexia, “Try it”

Alexia looked to her it took a second but she took the glass and took a sip nodding her approval, “I’ll get a bottle then” she smiled and off she went to find the girls at the bar who shut up as soon as she got there, “What are you two up to?”

“Been to Zara today?” Alexia joked hands resting in her lap, looking at Mia who smiled ever so slightly looking at her, “You did didn’t you”

“Only because Ingrid wanted to go”

“Oh sure” Alexia shook her head, “Do you own any other clothes that aren’t from Zara?”

Mia scratched her face, “Got a bit of Barca stuff”

Alexia titled her head ever so slightly, “Please tell me you’re joking”

“I could tell you I was joking, but that would be a lie”

Alexia was laughing gently, “I’ll have to get myself to one and see what all the fuss is about, Alba is just the same”

“I’ll probably see you there” Mia joked Alexia laughed nodding knowing she probably would. And secretly hoping she did. “Bet you’re more of Passeig De Gràcia kind of girl huh?” Mia teased lifting her wine to her lips, Mia had walked down the street lined with all the designer shops on each side but hadn’t dared going into any of the shops

“You’re not funny” Alexia spoke with a smile that indeed told Mia and the returning Barca girls, she was in fact funny

Mia hummed tilting her head briefly, “If you say so” she sipped her wine, placing the glass back down.

Ingrid poured Alexia a glass, “Gracias” before she lifted her own glass

“Salud” They all clinked their glasses saying it several times to each other.

Mia looked at her phone as a text popped up, she read it on the front screen before opening it to read the rest, “Angry little Irish women?” Irene asked

“Honestly” Mia locked her phone, “You would think she’d get the message”

“When did you break up?” Ingrid asked softly

Mia seemed to have to think about it which gave them a clue of the time frame, “.. April”

“And she still texts?”

“And calls, and asks to FaceTime, a few times a day to, it had gone a bit quiet but now they’re coming to Barcelona for that friendly, she’s ramped up again wanting to meet up”

“Will you.. meet up with her?” Alexia asked sipping her wine, she was looking over Mia’s face, she was hard read

“No” Mia shook her head, “She had her chance, you don’t get to screw me over more than once”

The girls finished the bottle between them as they chatted and laughed, Alexia didn’t have much to contribute but she was at least laughing when Mia cracked a joke. Mia appreciative because sometimes she was the only one to. She felt maybe, the ice had been broken. It wouldn’t be as awkward, she knew there may always be that slight awkwardness due to the awkward soul that was Alexia in some situations, but slowly she was believing what Ingrid had told her earlier.

Mia got to the locker room the following morning, Alexia looked at the paper Mia picked up then to Mias face to see her reaction, “Irene said Mateo drew it for you” Mia smiled looking to where Irene sat and held the picture to her

“He was insistent that I gave it to you soon as I saw you”

Mia dropped her bag between her legs where she stood and the girls could see even though she never voiced it, she was clearly touched, she took some blu tack from a near by strategy board and stuck it in her cubby, before getting on with her morning to be ready for training. Afterwards she was shocked she had been picked to do media, with the queen herself Alexia Putellas.

Alexia sent a soft smile over her shoulder, “Don’t look so nervous, it’s fine” Never did Mia think she’d be thankful to have Alexia there for her but her calmness and composure as she walked in helped calm her. Alexia pulled the chair out for Mi

 before taking her own

“Gracias” Mia muttered sitting down, much to her surprise the first question was posed to her

“Mia, Welcome to Barcelona, you’ll have to excuse my English”

“La podemos hacer en español si lo prefieres.” Mia said with a shrug of a shoulder as she leant on the table telling the interviewer he could do it in Spanish if he preferred

Alexia as she pulled her chair in smirked looking to Mia, “Español? Si?” The interviewer tried to confirm

Mia nodded, “Si”

Alexia watched Mia the entire time she did her little bit in the media room, she fiddled with her hoop earrings as the next question was posed yet again to Mia, “What’s it been like these past few weeks in pre-season with some of the best players in the world, one of whom is sitting beside you”

Mia smiled as did Alexia, “Be nice” she spoke in a mock warning tone

“It’s a real honour” Mia started in a mock rehearsed voice before smiling, “No but seriously it has been an honour, like you say I’m sharing the grass with the best players in the world and I’ve just been trying to do my best and really take on board and soak up all the comments and advice” Mia motioned to Alexia briefly, “The team and players have been giving me, to be become a better player so I can contribute in my time here, its been an adjustment thats for sure like it would be to go into any new team but one with the stature and history of Barcelona brings with its own set of nerves, so just keeping my head down and focusing on pre-season to get a prepared for the season ahead as much as I can”

“Alexia, from your point of view how’s Mia been doing”

Alexia smiled as Mia mimicked her, “Be nice”

She laughed before speaking, “Shall I do mine in English?” Mia smiled nodding

“If you want to”

“Mia” Mia lowered her head briefly, it caught her off guard how much she liked the way Alexia said her name, she’d never heard her say her name before, “For sure, if you” Alexia paused briefly, “Pass her, it will be assist because 100% would be a goal, I tell her this in training, her touch crazy, how she control ball, incredible, I like a lot how she moves without ball also so I think she do well at Barca. We’re very happy she on our team”

Mia smiled timidly looking to Alexia looked to her, “Cheers, I’ll pay you later”

“100 euro no?” Alexia asked trying to surprise her smile playing along

Mia nodded as the room laughed, “Si”

Mia went on her daily Zara peruse after training feeling a lot better about how her captain felt about her, although as she was looking around she couldn’t help but giggle at the face she knew Alexia could give her if she knew she was here yet again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Can not believe the response the last part got! Thank you so much!

No idea how many parts this will be but let me know if you want more! Also do we like the fake socials

[multiheadcanons]

TF2 MERCS IN THE ANIMAL CARE INDUSTRY BECAUSE WORK HAS BEEN MAKING ME SAD

scout: scout is new to the industry. a year at most. the fastest bather you could find in town. doesn’t want to start his own business, so works for a mom and pop shop. personality hire, but he’s getting better and better every day. has no interest in learning how to groom, though. he doesn’t have the right eye to make an animal look good.

soldier: soldier is more likely to be an owner of a very blank salon that he rents out booths for individual groomers. only takes enough from the money pool to maintain the building. doesn’t really care what goes on otherwise. his tenants LOVE him, because any issue is solved within 48 hours and they can do whatever they want as long as they take care of the place. handles sharpening because he knows the sharpener.

pyro: runs a luxury doggy daycare; and is VERY serious about the job. is up almost 24 hours a day during holiday seasons taking care of up to 30 dogs a day. has a handful of full time, live in employees, but they get so nervous when they’re not there they just stay at the daycare all day, watching. loves their employees. pays like, double the average wage as a start, because pyro expects nonstop work. consistent raises and bonuses, AND pizza parties.

engineer: a man of many hats. is actually a farrier. but if you got a sheep that needs shearing or something that needs to be tinkered with or a blade that needs sharpening or a dog that just needs a bath and nail trim he’s also your man. is the ONLY LICENSED AND CERTIFIED SHARPENER IN THREE FUCKING STATES. busy, busy man. soldier sends wealthy business and hearty workers his way in exchange for a monthly sharpening for his little shop. they’re friends, and soldier has always been a man of his word, so of course he agreed.

heavy: specializes in extra large dogs. 70 pound minimum to book with him. he runs a one on one fear free grooming experience called “Giant Spaw For Giant Dogs”. his website to book an appointment is full of pictures of him holding these massive dogs like they’re puppies. he’s smiling so wide in each picture. heavy loves dogs. has numerous certifications. is dog cpr certified. regularly attends dog shows. his salon is BEAUTIFUL. sleek, modern, lavender and navy theme. you enter and the reception area smells… so good. charges an arm and a leg though. but he sends you like… pictures of your dog on photoshopped backgrounds. it’s so worth it, his clientele is DEVOTED to him. one time he got sick and had to cancel his appointments and one of his clients broke down on him, praying for his health over the phone.

demo: demo is the best worker in the state, and he cycles through salons and clinics often based on where he’s needed. every business wants him so bad when they don’t have him. is getting paid VERY well to do what he does best. enjoys the process of bathing a dog without the stress of the haircut. fast, efficient, able to juggle multiple groomers as ONE bather. he’s a vital asset to any team he’s with, and he doesn’t even need the money. also likes working kennel. will help pyro during the holiday season for a break.

spy: i have two ideas. spy either has like, celebrity clientele, or spy exclusively grooms cats. requires his clients on a monthly schedule either way. his salon is also one on one quiet luxury pet care. brown and cream colored salon. never remembers to take pictures of his work. to book with him requires prepayment. website is sleek, and his portfolio is sorted by breed. doesn’t ask what anyone wants done on their pet, just does what he thinks is best. they always come out stellar. even his worst grooms are westminster worthy. has a wall of pet colognes and finishing sprays.

sniper: sniper is a mobile groomer and his business is called “Come Wash My Dog”. fast, efficient. doesn’t do anything fancy on any dog, and charges accordingly. does keep bows and bandanas to put on his favorite clients. likes terriers. occasionally gets caught up talking to his clients. it’s like his human interaction for the day. don’t come up to him making any requests, he is very frank that he is not one of them fancy groomers. he gives the dogs a trim if he can. that’s why his prices are so low.

medic: see, medic might make a really bad and unethical human doctor. but i think he’d make a phenomenal avian veterinarian. i think if medic became a veterinarian he would be a much different, much more ethically fulfilled man. known for his passion and dedication to the job. practically sleeps in his office so he is on call, at all times. probably wouldn’t have interest in tending to anything past the birds, but because he is known as one of three exotic vets in the state he’ll occasionally see reptiles and rodents. only has passing thoughts of joining an illegal pet trade, but he loves his job so much. he couldn’t forgive himself if he squandered it. keeps every feather that falls off his clients, and keeps them in organized files. when a client dies, he’ll give them the feathers and keep one for his clinic’s gallery wall. has a clinic cat because he thinks the irony’s funny. much more at peace with himself. at his worst he’s like house but with birds and without the drug addiction.

[lolitastories]

Ours

Rafe Cameron

Description: This will be a short story on how two people who love each other find their way back to one another. They have a child together and have to focus on giving her the best version of themselves.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

No matter the reason why Rafe and I weren’t officially together could ever make me deny him seeing his daughter. Rafe and I were two young to know what life would bring us after we met 4 years ago. At 19 I needed a change after graduating high school, so I moved to the outer banks. My friends came over to visit and when our pre campfire on the beach was rudely interrupted by a drunk girl, Rafe was there to watch as his friend Topper stopped the girl from starting a fight with one of my friends. My friend was more confident than me and invited them to stay and enjoy the sunset, since then Rafe and I spent most of our free days together. 3 years later I found out we were pregnant. Now I won’t admit I was scared because I wasn’t. Yet per my mother, my actions would tell you otherwise. When I found out I couldn’t block Rafe out of my life for even a day before he started sending constant messages and calling. I definitely couldn't ignore when he would personally go out of his way to come and find me. I was running out of places to hide so I had decided to move back home for a bit. I couldn’t stay too long because it would make my family suspicious, so thankfully being in my first trimester gave me the advantage to knock that reason out of the way. But soon I had to go back and face the decision I had made. The time back home had given me 3 weeks to think how and when I was going to tell Rafe about our future child. Since I was young, I knew I always wanted to be a mother, not this young but truthfully, I was jumping on clouds. The one thing I wanted to make sure before getting pregnant was choosing the right father for my children. He needed to be kind, loving, protective, but most of all understanding. Rafe was all of that and more. Not only did he have all those traits he also made me feel comfortable around him. He was the first man in my life that took care of the little girl who was scared to show herself. He brought out the pain and made it disappear. So, as I walked over to his property in Tanny hill I was determined to settle with whatever he chose to do with the information, that was until I saw him and another girl in his kitchen sharing a drink. I shouldn’t have gone into conclusion, but I was pregnant, and all my emotions were everywhere. I trusted him and when he found out I was back on the island he came to find me. He told me who she was and how he loved me. If it was me alone, I would jump on his arms and take him back, but it wasn’t. I needed to think of the little creature growing inside of me now, so after telling him I was pregnant I also told him I needed time to think about us. I wasn’t testing him, but this little person has become my world, and I needed to prepare to give them my all before welcoming it to the real world.

“We don’t like it here.” I hear the low and grumpy tone coming from behind me. As I turn, I let out a chuckle seeing Rafe and our daughter sharing the same expression. He had her hooked up to his chest as we were making our way to yet another antique store.

“I can understand it from her, but you need to stop acting like a baby.” I shut the tailgate of his trunk and started walking. I heard another groan but soon enough his heavy footsteps were getting closer and closer until he was walking alongside me.

“Promise me you won’t be like your mommy?” I roll my eyes and shake my head. I knew where this sentence was going. “Well,” I could feel his eyes on me, but I continued to walk towards the entrance of the store. “Maybe the good parts but when it comes to shopping, I hope you will drain my bank account at decent stores.” I grab the door hand and pull it open. Rafe walks in giving me a teasing look. I don’t respond knowing it would only lead to a longer conversation down a hole I don’t like. I walk over to grab a cart and walk over to where Rafe is waiting for me. “Every time you come into an antique store you buy nothing. Why do you always bring a cart?”

“Habit.” I shrug as I begin to look around. My mother, siblings and I would enjoy a Saturday in thrift stores and antique shops. We would later get food and rush home with a smile on our faces, it didn’t matter if we were carrying 12 bags or nothing, we were happy.

“Habits do die hard.” He says in a lower tone. I straightened up looking over to him as he played with our daughter's hands. I walk closer, placing my hands over his.

“And I am very proud of you Rafe,” As I looked into his eyes, I felt words choking to get out, but I held them down.

“What a beautiful baby.” Our heads turn looking over to a mid-thirties lady? as she smiled towards us. “Oh, look at her tiny shoes!” She squealed coming over to touch her small shoes. “I remembered my kid's feet being this small, almost making me want another little one.” We laugh alongside her. “Are you two planning to have more?” That question made my smile fade really quick. I looked over to Rafe who had a similar expression. “Either way you two are still young. Enjoy her this little and as much as possible because time goes by fast. You spend your time on things other than family and when you decide to give it priority it's too late.” Her words were like a knife stabbing me right in the heart.

“How many kids do you have?” I could hear their conversation faintly. My fingers began to tighten along the cart's handle. My body began to heat up while my head was spinning.

“Well, it was nice to talk to you two, but I have to find my two devils running around here somewhere.” I was functioning enough to give her a smile before she walked away.

“You, okay?” Rafe moves closer looking over my face. I nod slowly before shaking the uneasiness away and smiling up at him again.

“Yeah. We need to hurry if we want to catch the other stores before they close.” Rafe groans, throwing his head back.

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” I raised my hand to playfully shove him but then I remembered he was holding our daughter. “Did you see that?” he exaggerated as he turned to look down. “Mommy was trying to hurt daddy.” I roll my eyes and turn around to continue walking. My heart was melting when I heard our baby giggling at his fake studded words. “See, she agrees with me.”

“She does because she is such a daddy’s girl.” I turn my head to see Rafe smiling proudly as our baby looks up to him in admiration. “Just wait until she starts dating,” I bite my lips holding back a laugh to how fast his smile fell. “She will put you second,” I teasingly whispers.

“No, she would not! I will make sure of it because she won’t date until I am dead” I come to a halt and turn around to face him.

“I am %110 percent sure she would choose him and fight against you to keep the boy around.”

“Nothing backs up your statement.” He keeps his head high.

“She is a girl.” I simply state. “She will be smart but at the end of the day she is a girl. And as a girl myself I know it will happen because I happened to me,” He looks down with confusion on his face.

“What?” He questioned.

“I argued with my father because of a boy, till this day he still doesn’t like him. but I would do it again.” I don’t regret getting into an argument because of him. I choose the right choice to protect the boy's name, because he keeps on defying everything my father said he was going to do and be. “But don’t worry too much, you two will be okay.”

“Are you and your dad, okay?” I shake my head. I haven’t even told them I had a child. I know my father loved me but until I had Rafe, and I figured out, he would never accept it. I also am not in a hurry because it's my life and I am very happy.

“We will be.” I let out a sigh seeing how even our daughter was keeping quiet. “Let go because I am already hungry.” I smile, turning around to focus back on the shelves. I picked up a small book that read Collection Shakespeare: Hamlet. Before I opened it the book was taken from my hand. Rafe’s face comes to sit right beside my ear. His hot breath fanned down my neck and I could feel his smile radiate against my skin.

“Well until that happens, I can be your daddy,” He slowly whispers. His warm breath moves closer, and I couldn’t help but close my eyes when he places a kiss on the crook of my neck. It had been so long since I felt his lips on such a little intimate spot. When I regained my conscious back, he had already parted. I turned around to him, opening the small yellow book. “I will start by reading my two girls a book” I opened my mouth to speak but he held up his fingers to shush me. I watch our daughter enticed by his voice as he reads Hamlet. His eyes following along the words and looking over to me, when he sees a smile placed on my lips he continues his interpretation of the book. I lean against the cart and watch as he continues to be and grow into the father I prayed for my children.

[danacaptus]

YANDERE!READER x VICTIM!KAISER

dark content request, tasing, kidnapping, yandere!reader :o

You had been watching Michael for a very long time. At first, it was innocent: attending all his matches, cheering him on from the stands. But that wasn't enough. Soon, you found yourself sneaking into the lockers, stealing little keepsakes—a towel, a water bottle, anything that had touched his hands. Even that didn’t satisfy the gnawing hunger in your chest. Watching from afar wasn’t enough anymore. You needed him. The real thing.

Tonight was your chance. The practice field was eerily quiet, the floodlights casting long shadows as Michael trained alone. He always stayed late, pushing himself harder than anyone else, and you admired that about him. It was why he was the best, after all! Quietly, you managed slip into the lockers and poured a small vial of clear liquid into his water bottle. Your hands trembled with excitement, your heart pounding so loud you thought he might hear it. Once the deed was done, you hid in the shadows, waiting.

he finished at some point, his footsteps echoed through the empty room as he approached his locker. Michael felt relief at the view of the empty lockers, his teammates could get annoying. He grabbed his bottle, chugging the water with the thirst of someone who had given their all. The drink tasted odd—just a little off—but he shrugged it off and took another sip.

Then, the dizziness hit.

He staggered, blinking rapidly as his vision blurred. “Wha…?” he slurred before his legs gave out beneath him. His body slumped onto the bench, motionless except for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. Obviosly, you didn't lose any time! Imediately tip-toeing to him to make sure he was completely asleep. He looked handsome even in such a state, sweaty, tired and drugged; your couldn't help but feel giddy while dragging him out the lockers and making your way to your car. What a handsome man! You giggled. It took effort to drag his unconscious body to your car, but adrenaline was on your side as you laid him carefully in the back seat.

𓂃 ᡣ𐭩

The room was spinning when his eyes fluttered open, his head heavy and his vision blurry. It took Michael a while to notice that he wasn't in the lockers room, confusion turning into alarm when he noticed he was handcuffed. Before he could even say or think something clearly, you entered in the room─ your cheerful look worried him even more. Who was this weirdo? He was obviously being kidnapped and well─ it was scary, yeah. But he was more angry than anything, what could someone so weak looking do to him? You probably just wanted money. He noticed you had a plate in your hands, it had the delicious food you prepared carefully for him! You tried to give him a spoonful, but he quickly moved his head away.

“Who the hell are you?” he barked, his voice hoarse but filled with anger. “Let me go!”

“Oh, Michael,” you sighed, shaking your head as you approached him. “Don’t be like that. I’ve made this for you.” You held up a spoonful of the carefully prepared meal again, “You need your strength after all that training.”

“Get away from me!” he snapped, twisting in his restraints. His voice grew louder, angrier. “I don’t know what you want, but if it’s money, just—” He was so insistent, he had to eat something after training but he couldn't stop acting stubborn! You just wanted to feed him goodly like he need.

"Stop it, love! Let me just take care of you, i dont want your money" the smile in your face faltered, did you seem the kind of person that would kidnap him for money? He wouldn’t stop yelling, thrashing against the cuffs and calling you every name he could think of. Each insult felt like a dagger, twisting in your chest. Your patience was wearing thin.

“Michael,” you said through gritted teeth, your cheerful mask slipping. “Don’t make me do something I’ll regret.”

“Do your worst, do you think i want someone like you to be my maid? you crazy bit—” His defiance was cut short by the sharp crackle of a taser. The jolt of electricity sent his body convulsing, a strangled scream ripping from his throat. The sound of the taser crackling filled the room, blending with his raw, involuntary screams.

He thought he was too clever, huh? Well, disobedience is not tolerated here! Michael had almost forgot how this kind of pain felt, it made him feel as vulnerable as he felt back then, though more angry. He yelled you to stop, but you couldn't stop; he needed a lesson─ even if it made you kind of sad seeing your love like this!

"No, michael. If you dont obey, i'll have to discipline you!"

You just stopped when he was half-conscious, picking up his limp body from the floor. Gently, you cradled his head in your lap

"I will never let you go. I'll give you the most important things you need, micha!" You caressed the burn mark in his neck 'soothingly' while whispering those sweet nothing at him.

"P-please... Let me go" he managed to plead hoarsely. Wasn't he cute? It made you chuckle, but you also covered his mouth─ he shouldn't beg you to let him go, fate brought you together even though he doesn't understand it. "Hush, darling. You’ll thank me one day."

"I love you... forever" you whispered lovingly. He had to get used to it at some point!

This is my first yandere!reader and i made it for my first requestt so i hope its okay, i was chuckling while writting bc it was like punishing kaiser for hurting poor ness 😔 isagi count your days too :) /jk

[bestruction]

The right incentives

Summary: Sasuke struggles with adapting to life after losing his arm, choosing not to accept a prosthetic made from Hashirama cells, as it would remind him of his past

Warnings: Suggestive, my crazy theories about this would medically work

Sasuke had never been one to complain openly, but adapting to life with one arm was harder than he let on. He had refused the prosthetic arm offered to him—the Hashirama cells were a reminder of the destruction he’d caused, and accepting it felt like an unearned privilege. He bore the struggle quietly, a penance he believed he deserved.

You respected his choice, even if it pained you. But moments like today made you wonder if the price of his decision was too high.

The two of you had gone to the market to restock on essentials. The Uchiha district was slowly regaining its spark, the result of countless hours you’d spent together breathing life into its empty streets and crumbling homes. Yet it still lacked the conveniences of the main village, which meant long walks and heavy bags on market days.

“I’ll take these,” you said, smiling as you grabbed several bags from the vendor.

Sasuke reached for the rest. His single hand worked methodically, but the strain showed in the slight furrow of his brow, the careful movements as he adjusted his grip. When you moved to help, he shook his head.

“I’ve got it,” he muttered, his voice low but firm.

You didn’t argue. Sasuke’s pride was an unspoken rule between you, but as you walked home, you couldn’t ignore the way his steps slowed or how his knuckles whitened against the handles.

By the time you reached the house, you couldn’t stand it any longer. Ignoring his protests, you gently took the bags from his hand.

“Let me help,” you said softly. “It’s not a big deal.”

His jaw tightened, frustration flickering in his dark eyes, but he didn’t stop you.

Later that evening, you found him sitting in the garden, the fading sunlight casting warm hues across his profile. His gaze was fixed on the sky, distant and unreadable. Quietly, you sat beside him, your shoulder brushing against his.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence was familiar, comfortable in its way, but heavy with words left unsaid.

“I know it bothers you,” you said at last, your voice gentle.

Sasuke’s shoulders tensed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sasuke.” You placed a hand on his knee, grounding him. “You don’t have to hide it from me. It’s okay to admit when something’s hard.”

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I chose not to accept the cells,” he said, his tone quiet but steady. “I don’t regret it. But there are moments... when it’s frustrating. When I feel—” He hesitated, the word catching in his throat. “Useless.”

Your chest tightened. “You’re not useless,” you said firmly, the words carrying every ounce of love you felt for him. “You’re human, Sasuke. You’ve already punished yourself enough. You deserve to live fully—to heal.”

His dark eyes flicked toward you, guarded but searching. “You think I should accept the arm.”

“I think you should let yourself have a life,” you said softly. “It’s not about whether you deserve it. It’s about moving forward. Not just surviving"

For a moment, he looked impossibly young, as if the weight of his past had finally settled on his shoulders. Then he looked away, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “I just don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck with half a man.”

Your heart ached at his words. You shifted closer, resting a hand against his knee and leaning forward to catch his gaze. “Sasuke,” you said, your voice steady and tender, “you’re the strongest, most capable person I know. Losing your arm doesn’t make you less. Not to me. Not to anyone who matters.”

He swallowed hard, the walls he so carefully built cracking just enough to let you in.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice soft but steady.

His arm hesitated before resting lightly against your back. “You don’t have to apologize,” he said quietly, though his tone betrayed the vulnerability he rarely let show.

“I do. I didn’t mean to hurt you earlier—I just want to help. But I swear, it was never because I thought you couldn’t handle it, but think about what I told you, please"

His lips quirked in the faintest of smiles. “You’re stubborn.”

“And you love me for it,” you teased, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

“I do,” he whispered, pulling you closer.

It took him a while to mature the idea and a lot of your insistence. When he finally said he would accept it, you nearly felt your heart melting. You wanted him to heal completely from the wounds of his past, letting him blame himself for everything that passed didn't even pass on your mind.

Kakashi wasted no time in arranging for the best med-nin in Konoha to perform the delicate procedure. The process was no ordinary surgery; it was a fusion of advanced medical ninjutsu and intricate chakra manipulation, requiring precision that only a select few could achieve.

The day of the surgery was long and filled with an uneasy silence. You waited just outside the room, your heart pounding with every muffled instruction or chakra flare you sensed through the walls. Kakashi stayed with you, his presence a steady anchor. When your pacing grew restless, he gently urged you to sit, offering quiet reassurances.

But that wasn't the hardest part, the adaptation was.

The arm, though responsive, required Sasuke to recalibrate the balance of his chakra. Every movement—every muscle twitch—was a deliberate effort, his body relearning what had once been second nature.

Weeks later,  Sasuke’s mood was anything but serene. He stood in the middle of the open space, repeatedly tossing a training ball with his new arm, trying to get the motions to feel natural. The prosthetic responded sluggishly, too stiff at times and too loose at others. When the ball slipped from his grasp for the third time, rolling uselessly across the ground, frustration overtook him.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, throwing the ball hard against the nearby tree. It bounced back limply, mocking his effort.

Hearing the noise, you popped your head out from the doorway of the house. "Everything okay?" you asked, noticing the tight line of his jaw and the furrow of his brows.

Sasuke didn’t answer at first, but when you walked over and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, his tension eased just slightly. "It’s this arm," he finally said. "Maybe it's not working. The first hokage must be turning over in his grave since I got it."

You tilted your head, considering his words before reaching for his new arm. "May I?"

He looked at you, hesitating for a moment, then gave a slight nod.

You held his hand between yours, your touch warm and grounding. "Can you feel this?" you asked, your thumbs gently brushing over his fingers.

He swallowed. "Yes."

You smiled softly, stepping closer. "And this?" You pressed his hand against your cheek, letting it rest there for a moment.

His dark eyes searched your face, his breath hitching slightly. "Yeah," he said, his voice quieter now while he caressed your cheek softly.

Without breaking eye contact, you slid his hand to the curve of your neck, letting it linger there for a moment before guiding it down to your breasts. His breath caught when your fingers trailed his hand further to your waist, where you placed his other hand. Before you could say more, he guided you onto his lap, one arm wrapping around your back while his new hand rested securely on your hip. You giggled leaning your forehead on his, loving the way his onix eyes watched you so closely.

"Do you feel that, Sasuke?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, looking deep into his eyes while you moved your hips in a circle, letting his hands feel the motion. "I think it's working pretty well"

His gaze softened as his hands tightened instinctively on your waist, pulling you closer "Now that you mention it..."

You bit your lip feeling that sweet pressure that you knew so well between your legs "You’ll get used to it," you murmured, sliding your fingers into his hair. "You just need the right...incentives."

A smirk tugged at his lips despite himself. "Is that so?"

That damn smirk would be the death of you one day. He brushed his lips on yours, his hand slowly finding its way between your legs to push the thin cotton fabric of your underwear aside under your dress.

"Mm-hmm," you replied, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

"I think..." He mumbled in the kiss "We can try a different exercise for my fingers"

You giggled against his lips feeling your cheeks get warmer before his finger reached your clit "I'm here to help" 

[gliphyartfan]

Hiii I'm back with another hug ask, bc the last one was cute and lu has been stuck on my brain for literal months now (help). Feel free to ignore if it's not your thing

I think I sent this to another blog but I'm curious to hear your take on it: yan chain w/ reader who doesn't know what hugs even are and just freezes up anytime they're given an ounce of affection. I'm such a sucker for characters who have no idea how to react when they're given positive attention. They're standing there while Hyrule is hugging them thinking he's gonna pull out a knife at any moment. They sleep with their own under their pillow

Oh, Anon, this is GOLD. You know the Chain is gonna be all over this.

The first time it happens, it’s Hyrule who does it first because of course it is. Sweet forest boy is naturally affectionate, so it just happens. Maybe Reader got a little scraped up in a fight or looked particularly exhausted, and Hyrule, being the ball of sunshine he is, decided a hug was the best way to comfort them.

He wraps his arms around them, all smiles, and says like, “You’re safe now!”

And Reader? Reader is just standing there like a stone statue. Frozen. Wideeyed. Heart pounding in fear because why is he hugging me and what’s his angle?!

Hyrule notices immediately. He pulls back, confused but concerned. “Are you okay?” he asks, tilting his head, while Reader just stares at him like he might pull out a knife any second. (Cause what he doesn’t know is that she was about to do that.)

Hyrule tells the others because, let’s be real, he doesn’t know how to process what just happened. And the Chain? Oh, they have feelings.

Wild is immediately like, “What do you mean they don’t know what hugs are?!” He’s borderline offended on Reader’s behalf.

Legend acts like it’s no big deal but lowkey feels awful about it. He’s been there, and he gets it, even if he’d never admit it out loud.

Sky is heartbroken ya know. This man probably cries about it later when no one’s looking.

Twilight is all quiet and broody, vowing to make Reader feel safe enough to accept affection.

Warriors? Oh, he’s dramatic as ever. “How could anyone deny them affection? They’re so precious!”

Four is quietly determined to fix it. He doesn’t say much, but you know he’s planning ways to help. (He’s…gonna have to go back to the drawing board a few several times when his plans keep failing)

Wind is confused at first but quickly makes it his personal mission to introduce Reader to all the hugs. He gives his sister and grandma hugs all the time! It’s a travesty NOT to hug and be hugged!

Time just gives one of those cryptic nods like he already knows but doesn’t elaborate. (He’s clueless but he’s gonna fix that.)

They’re obsessed with figuring out why Reader freezes at hugs. Who hurt them? Who dared deny them love and warmth? The thought keeps them awake at night, eating away at them until they’re ready to tear apart the entire world to find answers.

They need to be the ones to break through to Reader. It’s not just about helping; it’s about being the one Reader finally trusts, the one they lean on and allow into their heart.

I thiiiiink, Hyrule is the most persistent but gentle. He starts with small touches, a pat on the shoulder here, a light hand on their arm there, until Reader gets used to him.

Wild probably makes it into a game. He’ll casually lean against Reader, ruffle their hair, or throw an arm around their shoulders. Before they know it, they’re comfortable with him.

Twilight is careful. Like he’s dealing with a nervous animal. He waits until Reader is truly comfortable before trying anything, and even then, it’s just a warm hand on their back or a brief side hug.

Sky is the king of asking for permission. “Would it be okay if I hugged you?” And when Reader hesitantly agrees, he gives the softest, warmest hug imaginable.

Legend is… awkward. He doesn’t know how to express affection without it being weird, so he just gives them stiff, quick hugs and pretends it’s no big deal. (I think she’d be more comfortable with him since if HE’S awkward about it just like SHE is, then he’s not up to anything malicious and she’s totally okay with that. They both become cuddle bugs eventually. Much to his touch starved enjoyment.)

Warriors is surprisingly patient. He loves affection, but he reins it in for Reader’s sake. When he finally gets a hug, though? He makes it dramatically playful.

Four (eventually after many failures) takes the practical route. He offers hugs as rewards for little victories, like, “Good job today,” and eventually, Reader starts to look forward to them.

Wind is a menace. He sneaks up behind Reader for surprise hugs, then laughs when they freeze. But he quickly lets go so she only tenses for a second and doesn’t have time to really register what he did. But he’s also the first to cheer when they start relaxing.

Time is slow and steady. He probably waits until she’s more used to the others. His hugs are grounding and calm, offered when Reader seems like they need them most.

When they find out about the knife, it’s a…moment. Sky is devastated. (he’s also secretly furious that Reader ever felt unsafe enough to need it.)

Twilight is like, “That’s…practical…I suppose. but you don’t need it anymore. We’re here.” And he means it. (She still has it much to his dismay.)

Wild? Legend? Wind and Hyrule? They are just like, “Oh, that’s smart. I do the same thing.”

Warriors (who also sleeps with a knife cause ya know, soldier.) probably offers to buy them a better knife because, in his mind, better protection means better sleep. (Wild and Warriors definitely

The others are a mix of concerned and quietly determined to make Reader feel safe enough to sleep without it. I mean, I have no doubt they would all try to take the knife from her but when she shrinks away from them and doesn’t interact as much because of that, they’ll eventually give it back…kinda..they’ll spend a while trying to convince her she doesn’t need it but uh…it doesn’t work. (Even when she later on enjoys hugs from them.)

When Reader finally hugs one of them back, it’s Hyrule. Of course, it’s Hyrule.

He’s hugging them after another battle, telling them how glad he is that they’re okay, when he feels their arms wrap around him, hesitantly, awkwardly, but it’s there.

Hyrule freezes for a second, then breaks into the brightest smile. “You hugged me!” he says, voice full of joy, and everyone else immediately demands to know what just happened.

Every small victory,a brief touch, a hesitant smile, is like a drug to them. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. They want more, and they want it now.

When Reader finally hugs Hyrule back, the Chain is…. not okay.

Sure, they’re happy for him (on the surface), but deep down, they’re seething with jealousy. Why him? Why not them?

From that moment on, it’s a competition. They’re all trying to outdo each other, looking for any excuse to be the next one Reader hugs.

If Reader so much as leans on one of them for support, the others are immediately trying to replicate the situation to get the same reaction. It’s not just affection they crave.

It’s to know Reader trusts them more than she does the others.

…aaaand…that’s it! That’s all I got. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯