#I don't even care if it's on ao3 or elsewhere

[a-caramel-addict]

To the War of the Rohirrim fandom:

Can I get fic recommendations in which Hèra is not being shipped with Wulf or Olwyn plus Háma is not being shipped with Targg? Just Gen fic recommendations.

(I already read the one by GoldenBaron, it was great!)

[genshinluvr]

Territorial

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader, Zhongli x Isekai'd!Reader x Neuvillette

Summary: Things seem to be going well when the men from Fontaine moved into the abode. Or at least that's what the others thought. You, however, can sense some tension between Zhongli and Neuvillette.

Note: How long has it been since I've posted something? A year? Over a year? Either way, I am somewhat back! Since I haven't posted fanfics in a long time, the new fanfics will be shorter compared to the previous fanfics. I'm slowly easing myself back into posting fanfics. This fic is most likely awful, but that's okay because it's been a while. Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: I haven't written in a while, so, it's probably a shit fanfic LMAO

Word Count: 4.5k

Ever since the men of Fontaine decided to move into the abode, things were relatively fine. The men got along with each other, and there have yet to be any arguments or physical altercations. Yet. However, you couldn’t help but notice a certain someone avoiding one of the new members of the abode. You weren’t sure if everyone noticed the brewing tension between an Archon and the Iudex, but it was subtle yet noticeable (to you). 

The men didn’t have an issue sharing your love, affection, and attention with the others. While there are certain men who can be quite possessive (Childe), it usually never gets out of hand. Or, at least, that’s what you thought. Zhongli has been clingy lately— not that you’re complaining, but it was a little bit unusual because he’s not publicly affectionate. Even if he is openly affectionate with you, it wouldn’t be overbearing. Okay, maybe overbearing isn’t the right word to describe it.

“Maybe territorial is the best way to describe it.” You mutter.

Zhongli hums beside you, looking over at you curiously. “Care to repeat that, dearest?”

You blink, snapping out of your thoughts before rubbing the back of your neck with a sheepish smile. “Oh, nothing! I was trying to find a word to describe a Rishboland Tiger for my word puzzle!” You gesture to the word puzzle book in front of you. 

Zhongli leans toward you, peering over your shoulders and at the word puzzle in front of you. His amber eyes scan the page as if he’s checking to see if you’re doing the puzzle correctly. Thankfully, you are! Zhongli hums, stroking the rim of his teacup, preoccupied with the puzzle book. You rub your eyes before glancing at the clock on the wall. It’s almost eight in the morning, and yet here you are! Usually, you’d be in bed, sleeping the morning away until someone forces you out of bed (the person forcing you to wake up is usually Al Haitham). 

“And territorial would be correct,” Zhongli nods, smiling at you, “you’re doing well.”

You smile shyly before covering your now very warm face with the word puzzle book. Zhongli chuckles, pressing a kiss on the side of your head before proceeding to stir his warm cup of tea. A comfortable silence falls over you and Zhongli. Aside from you and Zhongli, everyone is still asleep in their respective rooms. Well, aside from Childe and Wriothesley because the two men decided to become gym buddies who get up at ungodly hours to workout, spar, and box. Given Childe's past in Fontaine, you can’t help but find it slightly odd.

Heels clicking against the floors of the abode pulls you and Zhongli out of the comfortable silence. Zhongli lets out a long exhale through his nostrils before taking a long sip of his tea, looking elsewhere. You look to see Neuvillette standing at the entrance of the dining area, gazing at you and Zhongli with surprise.

“Good morning, [Y/N], … Archon,” Neuvillette says, stepping farther into the room.

You smile at Neuvillette, waving at the Iudex. “Morning, Neuvillette! I’m surprised to see that you’re awake around this time of day.”

Neuvillette chuckles, pulling a seat out from beside you before sitting. “I could say the same thing for you, [Y/N]. You’re never up this early, but today is different. Why?” Neuvillette looks at you intently. 

A look of surprise flashes across your face before you smile at the Fontainian man. “Zhongli asked me to join him for breakfast, and here I am!”

Neuvillette hums, nodding. “I see. Now, did Deus Auri rouse you from your slumber for breakfast, or was this initially planned the day before?” Neuvillette interrogates.

You blink at Neuvillette and turn to look at Zhongli, who looks visibly annoyed with the Iudex. Zhongli gives Neuvillette a tight-lipped smile before sipping his tea, unanswering Neuvillette’s question. Without you knowing, Neuvillette shoots a subtle glare at Zhongli while Zhongli continues to drink his tea, ignoring the discreet yet heated glare thrown his way. You clear your throat before turning towards Neuvillette, only to see him brushing a stray hair away from his face. 

You can’t help but admire Neuvillette’s long hair. His hair looks so soft, and you kind of want to run your fingers through them. “I wonder what kind of hair products he uses. His hair looks so silky and healthy.”

“Oh, nothing special in particular. If you like to know what I use for my hair care routine, I can show you.” Neuvillette suggests. 

You stare at Neuvillette owlishly, mouth agape. “Did I say that out loud?”

Neuvillette smiles and takes a sip from his chalice while you’re sputtering and looking over at the Funeral Consultant with wide eyes. Should you reply to Neuvillette’s offer? But he has a hair care routine! Wait, if he has a hair care routine, is it possible that Neuvillette might have a skincare routine? Your hand starts to tremble— not out of fear, but excitement and a bit of anxiousness because you accidentally said your thoughts out loud.

Zhongli stares at Neuvillette before placing a hand over your trembling ones. “To answer your question, Monsieur Neuvillette, I invited [Y/N] to breakfast the day prior,” Zhongli says, grabbing Neuvillette’s attention. “Isn’t that right, dearest?”

You smile and nod. “That is correct! Zhongli invited me to breakfast yesterday afternoon! We walked around the abode, watched the sunrise, and here we are!” You gesture to the table happily. 

Neuvillette presses his lips in a thin line, nodding. The three of you continue to sit in silence in the dining room, listening to birds sing in the distance. The more you continue with the puzzle book, the more you become confused. You start to bounce your right leg, tapping the pencil against the booklet, staring at number fifty. 

“How the hell did I get into the Akademiya when I’m struggling with this damn puzzle?” You mumble to yourself.

“The answer is Fortress of Meropide,” Neuvillette says, his voice right next to your ear. 

You pause and look at Neuvillette, freezing, when you realize how close your faces are. You can’t help but notice Neuvillette briefly looking down at your lips before making eye contact with you. If your face wasn’t feeling hot already, then it is now. The longer you gaze into Neuvillette’s eyes, the more you realize how breathtaking he is. 

“You have long lashes.” You mutter.

Before Neuvillette can respond, Zhongli clears his throat loudly. Your eyes quickly dart to your puzzle book, breaking eye contact with the handsome and breathtaking Iudex of Fontaine. Fortress of Meropide, huh? You scribble down the answers, and lo and behold, the words fit into the small boxes perfectly. 

You press your lips into a thin line, looking at Neuvillette from the corner of your eyes. “Thank you for helping me,” you whisper.

Neuvillette hums softly, taking a sip of water from the chalice. “You’re welcome. If you need any other assistance, I am more than happy to help.” Neuvillette says.

The clock ticks away, and you find yourself in another comfortable silence. Only this time, the silence isn’t as comfortable as before. Is Zhongli sitting much closer to you than he was a few minutes ago? Neuvillette keeps glancing over your shoulders, watching you write the answers in the boxes. It’s almost like both men are glaring at each other when you're not looking (they are, but you’re trying your best to act like you didn’t notice the ever-growing tension between the two refined men).

The door to the abode suddenly bursts open, and Wriothesley and Childe enter, drenched in sweat and with a towel around their necks. Childe and Wriothesley stop at the entrance, looking at the three of you with surprise.

Childe points an accusing finger at you three, “Why are you two all up in my snookum’s space?” Childe marches over, huffing and puffing about Zhongli and Neuvillette's lacking manners when being around you— his precious snookums who can do no wrong in his eyes. Wriothesley rolls his eyes, chuckling while wiping the sweat from his forehead with the white towel around his neck.

“Geez, Childe, you can’t hog them to yourself,” Wriothesley mutters, watching the ginger-haired man snatch you up from your seat. 

You’re thrashing in Childe’s arms, swatting at him while muttering how sweaty he is. Childe ignores your protest and drapes his arms around your shoulders, burying his face into your hair. You shudder, feeling his sweaty skin stick to yours— almost melting and becoming your second skin. 

Your nose scrunches up with disgust when you catch a whiff of his sweat. “You’re sweaty and smelly. Go take a shower,” you order, patting his head— only to regret it immediately. 

Childe shakes his head, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “How can I shower in peace when I witnessed my snookums sandwiched between two men who aren’t me?” Childe looks up from your neck, glaring at Zhongli and Neuvillette, who, in return, glare back at him. 

You poke Childe’s forehead. “Can you let go of me? I have a puzzle to finish.”

Childe shakes his head. “I’m not letting go of you until you return my hug, snookums.”

Sometimes, you underestimate Childe’s stubbornness and clinginess. It’s not like you don’t want to hug him! You love his hugs! However, you have an issue with hugging people when you or that person is sweaty— you don’t know why, but you don’t like it and cannot tolerate the feeling of stickiness. You grumble under your breath and reluctantly wrap your arms around Childe’s waist, squeezing your eyes shut when you feel Childe’s sweat seep through his shirt. Childe sighs happily and peppers your face with kisses, making sure to make it loud enough for the others to hear the obnoxious smooching noises. 

“That’s enough, Childe,” Zhongli says sternly, glaring at Childe from where he’s sitting.

Neuvillette huffs, swishing the water in his chalice while muttering, “Have some decorum, Harbinger.”

Childe pauses what he’s doing and glances over at Zhongli and Neuvillette. The two men shoot daggers in Childe’s direction, and Childe can see the veins on their foreheads threatening to pop. With a shit-eating grin, Childe proceeds to do what he was doing earlier— suffocate you with his kisses in front of the very irritated Zhongli and Neuvillette and an amused Wriothesley.

Wriothesley shakes his head, snorting, “He’s just fucking with you two, and you two are letting him win.”

Zhongli and Neuvillette don’t respond afterward; they only continue to glare at Childe from the corners of their eyes. After some time, Childe finally releases you from his sweaty grasp, though not before placing one last sloppy kiss on your face. You give Childe a tight-lipped smile before debating whether you should take a shower or continue your puzzle book.

“Snookums~!” Childe whines, sniffling dramatically.

Wriothesley rolls his eyes with a snort. “You’re even clingier than [Y/N] claimed,” Wriothesley smirks, pushing himself away from the counter before sauntering to where you stand.

You look at Wriothesley, suddenly feeling on edge. Why is he suddenly approaching you with that smug grin on his face? Is he up to something? Wriothesley pushes Childe to the side, causing the ginger-haired man to stumble and glare at the Duke. 

Before Wriothesley can say anything, you hold up an index finger. “What are you up to?” you ask cautiously.

Wriothesley laughs, his laughter sending tingles down your spine. “I’m just testing something. Relax for me,” He murmurs. 

You audibly gulp, causing the man before you to let out an airy laugh, his canines shining under the dining room lights. Wriothesley, now standing three feet in front of you, gestures to you to step forward with his index and middle finger. You inch forward, feeling multiple eyes on the back of your head as you get closer to Wriothesley. 

Once you’re standing in front of Wriothesley, you look anywhere but his face, worrying the smug smile will send you to your knees. Noticing your lack of eye contact, Wriothesley gently grabs you by the chin, tilting your head up. Archons, is the dining room hot, or is it just you? Wriothesley gazes into your eyes, the corner of his lips quirking up. With his free hand, Wriothesley caresses your cheek before chuckling. “My, my. Your face is quite hot. Are you feeling alright, dollface?” 

“You’re up to something, I just know it,” You whisper, narrowing your eyes at him.

Wriothesley chuckles, leans down, and murmurs into your ears, “As I said earlier, I’m just testing something. Do you trust me?” His breath fans your ear and the side of your face, causing goosebumps to form on your body.

He’s up to something, and the alarms are going off in your head. You’re not worried about what Wriothesley is up to! What you’re worrying about is how Childe (and Neuvillette and Zhongli) are going to react to what Wriothesley is going to do. Wriothesley leans down toward your neck, catching a whiff of your lotion and body wash. “Hmm, you smell nice. Are you wearing the lotion I bought for you while I was away in Fontaine?” He pulls away and gazes at you with curiosity, his head tilting to the side.

You can’t help but melt under his gaze. You gulp again, nodding your head. Wriothesley nods and pulls away from you. Wriothesley strokes his chin, gazing at you intently. You can’t help but squirm under Wriothesley’s piercing stare. He suddenly places both beside your neck, tilting your head to the side.

“Good. It makes me happy to know you’re wearing something I got for you. I’ll get you more the next time I return to Fontaine for work,” Wriothesley nods.

Your eyes widen, and you quickly shake your head. “No, no! You don’t have to get me anything, Wriothesley! I insist!” You protest, placing your right hand over his left.

Zhongli clears his throat, grabbing your and Wriothesley’s attention. If Zhongli hadn’t been annoyed already, then he certainly is now. Wriothesley clears his throat before walking away— but not without kissing the side of your head. Zhongli sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering incoherent words to himself. You swallow the lump in your throat before sitting back down. 

Neuvillette hums, stroking his chin. “There is a rather compelling trial that is being held at the Opera Epiclese. Your thoughts and presence would be most welcome should you wish to observe the proceedings alongside me.”

Your eyes light up, and you gasp with excitement. “Ooh, I can!? I would love to join you, Neuvillette!” You squeal, clapping your hands.

It’s not like you’re excited to see someone get possibly executed— what you’re looking forward to is being able to witness how trails take place in Fontaine. Instead of witnessing the trial from behind your computer screen, you get to see it with your very own eyes! 

Zhongli clears his throat. “Dearest, I must remind you that you have some projects to turn in today at the Akademiya.”

Your eyes widen, and the pencil in your hand clatters on the table. Wait, what project!? You have projects to turn in at the Akademiya!? You rack through your brain, trying to recall if you really did have projects that need to be submitted. 

Neuvillette narrows his eyes at Zhongli, raising an eyebrow with skepticism. Zhongli ignores Neuvillette’s stare and proceeds to sip from his teacup. Right when you’re about to open your mouth to question Zhongli, Al Haitham enters the dining room, dressed and ready for the day. 

You sigh in relief, push yourself up from your seat, and stride to the Scribe. “Al Haitham! Can you help me jog my memory really quick?”

Al Haitham raises his eyebrows at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “Of course. What is it that you need me to assist you with?”

“I agreed to go watch today’s trial proceeding in Fontaine with Neuvillette, but Zhongli reminded me that I have a project to submit to the Akademiya today. My issue is that I cannot recall whether I do have a project to submit,” you explain, crossing your arms over your chest while tapping your foot on the ground impatiently. 

Al Haitham strokes his chin, eyebrows knitting together as he tries to recall any conversations he had with you regarding your upcoming deadlines with the Akademiya. Al Haitham nods wordlessly. You deflate and collapse to your knees, lying on the ground while sulking. 

“Eh? What happened to Windblume? They look heartbroken and defeated,” Venti says, strutting into the dining room while smoothing over the wrinkles on his shirt. “Was breakfast with blockhead disappointing?” Venti jokes, propping his hands on his hips.

You sigh and shake your head. You can’t be disappointed about the project submission preventing you from attending the Opera Epiclese with Neuvillette. Your project determines the fate of your future with the Akademiya, and you certainly cannot push the deadline back. Plus, you can’t be upset with Zhongli for reminding you of something so important. 

Venti extends his hands toward you; you grab his hands and stand up. You waddle over to the table and plop down between Zhongli and Neuvillette while sulking over missing the opportunity to witness a trial in person. 

You turn to Neuvillette, visibly disappointed, “Thank you for the invite, Neuvillette. I truly appreciate it, but I must decline your invitation due to pressing deadlines.”

Neuvillette’s gaze softens, reaching for your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You do not need to apologize, darling. There’s always a next time,” he smiles at you, “If you’d like, perhaps I can make some dinner reservations just for you and me.”

A hand slams down on the table, startling everyone in the room. If the others aren’t awake, they certainly are now. You look over where the commotion is from, only to see Childe huffing and puffing with a pout. Oh, Archons, you forgot Childe is still in the same room. 

“Snookums! How can you forget about me?” Childe whines.

You laugh nervously and rub the back of your neck with your unoccupied hand. You give Neuvillette and Zhongli a sympathetic look before getting ready to leave your seat to comfort Childe. Before you can stand up, Zhongli grabs your other hand and gently pushes you down, shaking his head.

“No need to console him, dearest,” Zhongli says, shooting a pointed look in Childe’s direction.

Childe puckers his lips and groans, turning around and stomping away. You sigh for the umpteenth time, resting your head on the table. Zhongli and Neuvillette both squeeze your hand to comfort you.

Since that day, things have been getting worse between the two men when you’re in the same room as the duo. Whenever you try to make time with Neuvillette, Zhongli would take that chance to tag along. Now, you’re not against Zhongli tagging along with you, but you’re sort of worried about his safety because of the look Neuvillette would throw in Zhongli’s direction. You’re not sure if the men aren’t aware that you can sense the tension between them, but if they do, they don’t seem to care about it. A week (or has it been two weeks?) passes by, and you’re eating dinner with the men in the dining room.

Usually, there isn’t assigned seating at the dining table since you want to be able to sit next to every person in the abode without leaving a single person out. But for some reason, not long after the men from Fontaine moved into the abode, Zhongli and Neuvillette decided that the empty seats beside you (anywhere you sit at the dining table, pretty much) were theirs to claim.

“But Onikabuto booboo bear! I want you to sit next to me this time!” Itto whines, laying the top half of his body on the table while giving you puppy dog eyes, his bottom lips jutting out before fake crying.

Neuvillette raises his eyebrows at Itto beside you, stroking his chin. “Onikabuto booboo bear? Is that supposed to be a nickname for [Y/N]?” Neuvillette murmurs.

Itto stops his act and looks at the Iudex with excitement, nodding rapidly. Itto quickly removes himself from the table before running over to your side of the table (which took a while because the table is quite long). Once he arrives at your side of the table where you, Zhongli, and Neuvillette are sitting, Itto pulls out an empty seat beside Neuvillette and plops down with a heavy sigh.

“In case you haven’t been, uh, informed about how things work around here…” Itto trails off, scratching his head as he tries to find the right words to say, “We,” he gestures to the men in the dining room, “have pet names for our sweet Onikabuto booboo bear.”

Itto places both hands on his hips; a smug smile graces his face. You snicker and shake your head. Zhongli wraps his arms around your waist and plants a kiss on your cheek, ignoring the looks Neuvillette and Childe are giving him. 

“Oh? Please do tell me more about this, Itto. I have been calling [Y/N] “darling,” are we supposed to have a unique nickname for them?” Neuvillette asks, tilting his head while looking at Itto with pure curiosity.

Itto blinks at the Iudex with wide eyes, “Uh…” he trails off, scratching the back of his head before looking over in your and Zhongli’s direction. “Not really. I guess it depends on preferences! I call them Onikabuto booboo bear because, well, I love Onikabutos almost as much as I love [Y/N]! As for the booboo bear part, I wanted it to be unique for them and only for them. Heh, I bet other people on Teyvat wouldn’t be able to come up with someone as interesting and unique as the nickname I give to my Onikabuto booboo bear!” 

You can’t help but melt at Itto’s response. You know that Itto loves his Onikabutos, and hearing his explanation of the nickname he gave you makes you feel so warm and soft inside. You pull away from Zhongli’s grasp, get up from your seat, and walk over to Itto. You wrap your arms around Itto’s shoulders and rest your left cheek on his head, stroking his hair.

“You’re too sweet, Itto. You’re going to make me cry,” you coo, reaching down to pinch his cheek.

Itto’s face turns bright red as he mumbles incoherent words. Noticing the look that Zhongli and Neuvillette shoot in his direction, an idea pops into his head. Itto wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles his face into your chest, making sure not to accidentally poke you with his horns.

Kaveh huffs, propping his head on his elbow. “Hey, Abyss Mage, how come you give them more attention than the rest of us?”

“They love me more, that’s why!” Itto shouts, sticking his tongue out at the miffed architect. Neuvillette lifts his hand to say something, but Itto quickly stands up and lifts you from the ground. “Ha! They’re mine now, losers!” 

“Wha— Itto!” You screech when Itto takes off with you in his arms.

How Itto runs away with you in his arms reminds you of a mother cat carrying her kitten, but in this case, it’s Itto carrying you. The men stand up, shouting at Itto and groaning as they watch the Oni sprint out of the dining room with you while laughing manically. 

Baizhu chuckles, rubbing his temples as he watches the other men leave their seats to chase after you and Itto while shouting profanities. “I’ll be getting the first aid kit, just in case something happens,” Baizhu says, getting up from his seat to go to the infirmary area of the abode. 

You should’ve known that Itto is a magnet for trouble, but while he’s running up the stairs with you in his arms, his feet slip, sending you two tumbling down the stairs. While Neuvillette’s tending to your injuries with Baizhu, Zhongli scolds the pouting Oni.

Neuvillette caresses your face in his hands, “Are you alright? You took a hard tumble down the stairs, and I’m worried about the possibility of you sustaining some injuries.”

“I mean, my arm does hurt, but—”

“Do you guys hear that?” Thoma asks.

Everyone in the room pauses, listening closely. There’s a soft pitter-patter sound coming from the roof. The sound isn’t loud, but it’s noticeable if you sit in a quiet room and listen closely. You continue to rub the arm you landed on, trying to decipher what’s making the pitter-patter noise.

“Is it raining?” Tighnari strokes his chin, heading towards the nearest window, while Aether runs toward the window. 

Scaramouche raises his eyebrows at Tighnari, crossing his arms over his chest. “Since when can it rain in the abode? Maybe you’re hearing things that aren’t correlated with the weather.”

Tighnari ignores Scaramouche’s comment and stands beside Aether in front of the window. Aether peeks from between the curtains before turning to everyone else in the room with wide eyes.

“It can rain in the abode?” Aether asks.

You furrow your eyebrows and get up from your spot, clutching your throbbing arm to your chest. Zhongli places a gentle hand on your shoulder, accompanying you to the window. 

Ayato hums, tapping his chin while watching the raindrops pelt the window. “I never knew that the abode can have such weather. It seems like the rain is getting heavy.”

“Now that I think about it, I believe that it has been a bit gloomier these past few weeks,” you murmur, staring at the dark gray skies from the comfort of the estate with the men who care about you.

The men look at Zhongli before looking over at Neuvillette, who ignores the others' burning holes in his head as he drinks his water elegantly. Zhongli lightly taps your shoulder to grab your attention. You look at Zhongli quizzically while he examines your injured arm with discontentment. 

A small smile appears on Zhongli’s face as he caresses your cheek with one hand. “Let’s get your injury checked. I’m sure Doctor Baizhu has yet to complete the examination.”

Lightning crackling across the sky and thunder filling the air startles everyone in the abode. The heavy rain seems to have gotten worse, and it doesn’t seem like it’ll get better any time soon. Aether clears his throat and gets between you and Zhongli with a polite yet awkward smile. “I’ll take [Y/N] to see Doctor Baizhu, Mister Zhongli.”

Before Zhongli can respond, Aether quickly whisks you away while avoiding the stares from Zhongli and Neuvillette. Baizhu and Aether rush you to another room while the men remain in the same spot, not moving a limb.

Dottore snorts, shaking his head, “Who knew these two men are childish.”

Neuvillette and Zhongli glare at Dottore. A tree branch knocks against the living room window as the rain pelts the roof and window. 

Note: Finally posted something after so long! 😭 The fanfic is most likely awful, but I kind of want to make a part two for it, but I'm not entirely sure if I should. Man, since this is posted, now I have to plan what else to post... aside from the HSR fanfics. I think I'll post a fanfic for HSR instead of Genshin this upcoming week, but I'm not entirely sure. I might change my mind, but who knows. Anywho! To all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

I didn't initially plan on have a taglist for this fic, but since someone requested to be tagged in this fic, I will tag them! Taglist for this fic: @rubyninja1

Read more of my works on my Masterlist / Masterlist 2 | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[callmearcturus]

I said this elsewhere but

not to be That Guy but I don't really see the point of moving platforms anymore.

There is no where we can hide on the internet from the silicon valley bros. There just isn't. Patreon is VC-funded and could announce tomorrow that oh of course they've been partnered with Midjourney for months already. Twitter actively scraps everything for AI learning. And even if you trusted the other big players like FB/IG to tell the truth about shit, people are going to use these platforms for datasets anyway. They'll just do it quietly and hope no one notices.

And places like cohost or whatever-- honestly, if it makes you feel safer/better, go for it, but I don't think cohost has the sway or capital to build the type of legal team you need to fight against scrapers. Hell, you wanna retreat into private discords? Discord wants in on AI too.

Everyone big is already dealing in AI, and everyone small doesn't even have a seat at the table. In my opinion, we are all collectively holding out for Brussels or any of the many court cases to do something about this shit, because it's no longer a thing we can just hide from.

I'm going to keep my writing on the AO3 because they are the odd case of having an actual legal team in place for this shit. For artists, I have nothing but sympathy. I suggest glazing and nightshading literally everything you post.

But beyond that, I'm unsure what we can do. This is a matter for legislation. Silicon Valley doesn't care if we all go to cohost, and even less scrupulous data-crawlers will just grab our shit from there too.

So I'll be here.

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 19: Marking - Remus Lupin

Summary: Remus accidentally bites your neck too hard and leaves indents of his teeth, and now it's woken something within him, needing everyone to see the mark he's left on you.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, possessive, biting, thigh riding, keeping quiet, licking, sucking, marking, oral (f receiving), size kink/difference, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, creampie

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

“Remus! You've left a mark on my fucking neck!” you huffed in frustration as you bared your neck further, trying to see the damage your boyfriend had left in your reflection in the cracked mission of the girl's bathroom. It was your favourite place to sneak away to have some alone time which, usually meant fucking against the stall as the bathroom on the third floor wasn’t in use due to the resident ghost, moaning Myrtle, who knew to travel elsewhere when you and Remus came to visit.

Your boyfriend was straightening his tie when he looked up at you, “Shit, did I?” To give him some credit, he sounded genuinely concerned as he came closer, turning your body to face him to inspect your neck. The tip of his index finger and thumb tilted your chin away gently, his forest green eyes dancing over the area of your neck that throbbed slightly. “Oh, I really did mark you up,” he acknowledged his warm breath that smelled faintly of your pussy drifting over your cheek, causing the area to warm in embarrassment. The pad of his thumb brushed over the indent of teeth marks, surrounded by irritated skin from where he’d bitten you during the heat of the moment.

“Does that hurt? When I touch it, does it hurt?” he asked, his voice softening with his gaze. 

“No, it doesn't hurt, but everyone is going to see it. I can't exactly walk around wearing a scarf during class; it's the middle of summer”. Stepping away from him, you rubbed over the area of your neck that had begun to tickle under his delicate touch. Looking up into his bright eyes, you noticed they were still staring at the spot where your fingers were now caressing.

Even though he appeared to be in somewhat of a serious mood, especially as his hands hurt you, there was something more, and fear crept up your spine that maybe the area had begun to appear worse. Quickly turning back to the mirror, you inspected your neck but found it seemed the same.

Your eyes wandered back up to your boyfriend, asking, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Remus continued to gaze at your bite mark, his scarred hand lifting to stroke along your jaw. “I don't know”, he admitted, but the deepness of his voice had your eyelids fluttering. “I just like seeing my mark on you. It’ll remind everyone who owns you.” Even though his words were possessive, the smile that peaked on his lips proved he was jesting.

Stepping closer until your neck was aching from a different reason to the mark as you had to tilt back so far to see up into his taller face. “Is that you talking or the possessive wolf?” your smile matched Remus until he was chuckling under his breath as you shoved him against his chest, laughing just as hard. “Asshole, you don’t own me, I am a strong, independent woman”.

Remus dipped his head, laughter still dancing in his eyes, but his words were full of a different type of tease, “Are you sure about that? Weren’t you just saying ‘im yours’ as I fucked you?”

He knew instantly that he’d won when you looked away, body heating in embarrassment. “Not the point”, you huff, returning to looking at your neck in the mirror. “Still doesn’t mean I want to walk around with a giant bite mark on my neck; what am I supposed to do?”

Remus rifles through his school bag until he found the well-used tin he always kept with him as it held a green salve that eased any injuries he’d gain from the full moon. “Come here”, he gently asks, holding out his hand for you to take as he walks into the light a bit more so he can see better. With as much care as he could muster, Remus carefully applied a light layer over the bite mark. You tried not to focus on his fingers' pressure or the intense stare that further warmed your skin. Remus had you wrapped around his little finger, that was for sure, and he could tell by the humming of your pounding heartbeat that he felt as he pressed against your throat.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see a knowing smile spread across Remus’ face, but thankfully, he began to stand up to his full height, declaring, “All done, you’re as good as new”. He kisses your cheek dramatically before letting go so that you can return to the mirror. The bite mark had healed entirely, and a light sheen from the salve remained.

“Thank you!” you say rejoiced and relieved. Grabbing his hand, you begin to pull him towards the exit, “Come on, the others’ class should be finished by now.

The remainder of the day was pleasantly ordinary. However, you could constantly feel Remus’ eyes on your neck, to the point that you were checking in any reflective surfaces to see if the mark had returned, but it hadn’t. You weren’t sure if it was the desire you saw in his eyes or sympathy as he tended to regret accidentally hurting you through the rough, intimate moments, even as you pleaded with him that you loved every second.

The first time the two of you were finally by yourselves was when it was time for bed. “Is everything okay? You keep looking at my neck and making me paranoid”.

You’re both squished together in his bed in the men’s dormitory, facing one another and whispering so that the others couldn’t hear; even though the curtains were drawn closed, you both had to keep the volume entirely as silencing spells weren’t as effective in the beds which were only discovered after a highly embarrassing night.

Remus lifts his head to rest on his fist, staring down at you, “I just keep thinking about that mark on you”. Lowering his face, he gently kisses over the area of your throat where your pulse throbbed the hardest.

Sighing gently into the touch, you reciprocated the delicateness by running your fingers through his soft hair. “I kept thinking about how much I liked seeing it on you”. Ever the tease, Remus shifted further over your body, turning you slightly onto your back to allow his thigh to push between yours.

“You…did?” between your legs where Remus’ thigh was pressing on began to warm as he tried to keep his voice hushed, which meant that it sounded even more, hoarser than usual, and each draw of his words sent tingles straight to your core. Remus knew you were becoming more aroused and knew his effect on you. Carefully and without any rush, he cupped both of your hands together from behind his head and pushed them up so they were now above yours on the pillow as he held them in one hand.

He nods in answer to your question as he continues kissing up and down your exposed neck, which you bared fully for him. “I just keep thinking about everyone else seeing it, knowing I gave it to you, that you’re mine, and they can’t have you”.

A smile graces your lips as you say with a hint of tease, “You’re very possessive. Has anyone ever told you that, Mr Lupin?”

He groans deep in his chest whilst being mindful of the volume as his open mouth moves up your chin until he’s hovering over your lips, his breath mixing with yours as he confidently states, “You love it”.

You’re arching to try and kiss him, but he keeps moving away. “I do”, you admit which was all he was waiting for before kissing you deeply, breathing heavily against your cheek as your lips move in synchronised passion. His fingers tightened around your hands, holding you down entirely as your body seemed to react of its own accord, hips rolling and lowering so that your naked pussy could rub against the toned muscle of his thighs. As you ground down harder, your clit was massaged and tweaked against his body.

The kiss was momentarily paused as he dipped his face next to yours so that his lips hovered next to your ear as he asked, “Because I’m such a nice boyfriend, I’ll ask this time. Do I have permission to bite and suck wherever I like?”

You knew that he had more salve left in his tin, so without even thinking about it, you pleaded, “You have permission to do anything you want to me”.

Remus didn’t rush; he’d suffer the consequences of being tired tomorrow, but decided it was worth seeing you all riled up. With every inch of self-restraint, your boyfriend's lips caressed back down your neck, so softly that it tickled and caused your whole body to shiver. Especially as he licked certain areas and blew cool air across them, goosebumps would peak over your skin at the action.

As he reached your collarbones, he teased further but this time with his teeth, nipping sharply before easing the pain with a simple kiss. Lower he moved whilst still holding your hands above your head, his thigh remaining stable between yours so that you could continue to get yourself off. You were breathing heavily, back arched to try and move closer as he hovered about your perked nipple.

Remus licked the very tip of your nipple first to see how you’d react, smiling to himself when you accidentally let an innocent moan out before quickly biting your lower lip to shut up so that the others in the room didn’t hear. Shifting his face so that his mouth was just about your nipple, his mouth lowered and sucked harshly, his chin rubbing against your nipple, adding extra stimulation. Again, he licked over the area that now lightly throbbed from where all the blood had gathered at the surface, knowing it would be tender tomorrow.

He did this to each breast, avoiding your nipples altogether, which only made you feel more desperately turned on, which was evident by the wetness soaking the hair over his thighs. He moved, journeying down your sternum and stomach, leaving a sprinkling of bites and hickeys. The most sensitive area - where he had to hold a hand over your mouth to stop your cries - was the inside of your hips, where he knew you were ticklish, but as he sucked and then bit the area, your thighs trembled as the sensation pulsed desire to your core.

If your hands were free from their restraints, you’d have pushed his face lower, especially as the awkward position meant his thigh had disappeared. Thankfully, Remus knew you were melting in the palm of his hand, so he lowered to where you wished. Keeping one hand still holding your wrists and the other over your mouth, Remus was able to lower his face between your legs, which you spread willingly.

A single kiss against your folds had your eyebrows knitting together and moaning so desperate to be released that for a second, you didn’t care if anyone heard you. Remus wanted to release his groan as his lips were now coated in your juices, and he hadn’t even delved deeper yet.

“Gotta keep quiet for me. Can you do that, Love?” Remus asks so that his breath brushes against your core. You nod your head, deciding to bite your tongue instead of your lip as his hands disappear from both your mouth and hands so that he can grip both of your thighs, pushing them back so that you are spread out wider for him.

With a lick to his lips to taste you fully, he contemplated just getting right into it, but instead, he began to bite and mark your thighs. If he wasn’t biting, he was licking or sucking until you were shaking and grabbing to hold onto his hands that were still holding you. You were thoroughly drenched and begging for him to touch any of your pussy, but you made sure to keep your mouth shut. Even though it was dark in the cramped space of his enclosed bed, Remus could see how much you were losing your mind.

Finally snapping his restraint for holding back, he released his hold on your body and began to crawl up it instead until he crowded around you, all long limbs covering you completely. It wasn’t often that you both fucked in his bed, especially with everyone else in the room, because it was nearly impossible to stay quiet, which is why you both sneak away during the day to shag in a bathroom stool. However, Remus couldn’t deny his best girl from being pleasured how she wanted, now when she was currently coated in his marks.

“Silenco”, Remus waved his wand that had been hidden beneath the pillow, causing the atmosphere to sound as if cotton was in your ears, but even with the spell, the bed would creak, and the gaps in the curtains would leak out noise, but it was better than nothing.

You were soaked enough that he didn’t need lube or even spit as he reached between your bodies to swipe his cock between your folds, parting them to gather as much fluids as he could over his impressively sized cock. As he positioned himself at your entrance, he kept one hand over your mouth and then muffled himself by dipping his head between your neck and pressing his lips against your skin.

Your jaw trembled with the desperation to open it and let out the more pathetic of moans as he slowly thrust in, taking his sweet time to allow you to adjust. Your hands settled over his back, careful of his sensitive scars, before digging your nails into the surrounding areas to pull him closer.

In the random areas across Hogwarts that he was able to pull you into supply cupboards or bathroom stalls, Remus fucked you relentlessly hard and fast until his pelvis was a blur. But, in the dormitory, on the rare occasions that you both did have sex, it was slow, with deep penetrations that filled you up to the very brim.

Every single drag of his cock had your eyes shut, with the overwhelming sensations dispersing through your nerves. It felt like he was touching every single part of you at the same time. Your walls fluttered around him as he moved deeper until the tip kissed your cervix, a sweet touch compared to his grip on your throat. It was almost like he was trying to hold you down like a dog in heat, and it did cross your mind to check whether the full moon was any time soon with how possessive he was being.

You’d cum twice by the time his thighs began to tremble, and he was no longer able to hold his tongue anymore. 

“Look so good with my marks on your body, so fucking pretty and desperate for me. Gonna make you mine, so full up and covered in my bites”. His hand rested over your abdomen as he spoke, caressing the area over your womb. “You gonna take it? Like you’ve taken my marks?”

You nod, your hands over your mouth now as you knew it would have been a blubbering sob that would wake everyone in the room if they hadn’t already awakened from Remus's demands. With a powerful thrust that nearly shoved you entirely up the bed, Remus stilled, but you could feel the pulse of his shaft and the way he trembled as his hot seed soaked into your hole.

Thankfully, you were already on a potion for birth control; otherwise, Remus probably would have made his breeding wish come true. After a couple of seconds of catching his breath, sweat coating both of your bodies from the humidity in the enclosed bed space, Remus finally collapsed next to you, turning your body onto its side so he could spoon around you.

You were exhausted and falling asleep before you could nuzzle into the feeling of his lips kissing the marks over your shoulder and neck soothingly. Thankfully there was no noise from any of the other bunks in the room so you assumed everyone had not been woken by the fucking.

The following day, you wake bleary-eyed, and Remus is kissing underneath your ear from where he still lay wrapped around you from behind. Stretching your body and groaning at the sensation of your muscles and joints waking for the day, you giggled as he nipped your ear lobe, “Morning”.

His voice was always so low and husky when he first woke up, but it only made you want to lean into him further, finding his voice soothing and comforting. However, your stomach grumbled to life, alerting both of you to your hunger, which made him chuckle. “I’m hungry too”, he declares, moving further down the bed to open the curtain, shuffling through the clothes on the floor before handing yours over and closing the curtain. From the sounds of it, the other boys were beginning to wake up as Remus changed in the dormitory and you in the curtained-off bed, giving you some privacy from everyone else.

Your muscles ached from the night's activities, but you didn’t think much of it, and it was too dark to notice the darkened areas on your body, which you, too, had forgotten about. Shuffling awkwardly, you eased back the curtain with a sing-song voice shouting, “Morning boys! The sun is shining; what a beautiful day!”

Sirius’ bunk was opposite yours; his curtains were pulled back as he sat up in bed with a soft smile at your morning antics. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he did a double take, looking over your body with wide eyes before it slowly shifted to a deep-set smirk.

Whistling lowly, he glanced between you and Remus. “Merlin Moony, did you try and chew your girlfriend to death last night?”

Your entire body burned with embarrassment as you looked at your knees, which were bare as you’d dressed in a skirt, seeing the apparent marks on the sensitive inner flesh. “Shit!” you cursed before grabbing your neck, remembering how much Remus had enjoyed playing there last night and shouting, “Shit!” again before rushing to the bathroom, thankful no one else was there.

The mirror in the bathroom gave you the perfect view of the thoroughly marked column of your throat. How could you have forgotten? You were mortified, to say the least. Remus casually leans against the door frame, tying his school time as you hide your embarrassed face in your hands.

“I’m never leaving this room ever again, Sirius is going to tell everyone!”

Remus’ warm body slides up behind yours as he eases your hands away from your face, “I’ll tell him not to, don’t worry. Anyway, I told you I like people seeing these marks on you; it makes me want to do more”. He begins to kiss along your jaw, your body instantly melting into the embrace before you snap out of it and elbows into his gut, pushing him away.

“Stop being so possessive and go and get the salve, please”.

Remus playfully rolls his eyes and then leans in close, whispering into your ear, “I’ll get rid of the ones on your neck and knee, but the ones under the clothes are staying”.

He didn’t even give you time to answer before he walked off, and you were feeling warm under the skin for an entirely different reason now as you thought about walking around all day with all his marks over your body. Maybe you would keep a few, you decided, especially when you get to see him riled up like last night.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Female Reader - Coworker AU

Content & Warnings: Coworker AU, Halloween Store AU, friends with benefits, oral sex (male & female receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, friends to eventual lovers, free use, overstimulation

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: For Kinktober 2024 (Free Use)

While working at a Halloween store, you make an agreement with your coworker, Kyle Garrick: free use of your body for covering shifts.

ao3 // main masterlist // kinktober 2024 masterlist

"Another shift? I'm starting to think you're only working here for my cock."

"Kyle Garrick," you hiss, smacking his arm.

Laughing, Kyle grabs your wrist, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “The deal still stands.

"I'm fully aware of the deal," you mutter with a smile, removing your hand from his grasp.

"Any place. Any time."

"I know."

Kyle grins and aggressively clicks the end of his pen until you roll your eyes. "Just do it you big idiot," you mutter.

Putting pen to paper, Kyle scratches out your scheduled time and moves the shift elsewhere.

This time, he clicks the end of the pen once. "Behind the changing rooms."

"Now?"

Kyle tilts his head to the side, a sly smirk on his face. Of course, now. He doesn't mean later. He never means later.

Within five minutes, you're leaning over a stack of delivery boxes with Kyle deep inside you.

All around you is the overflow of popular items. Couples have been coming in exclusively to purchase Scream masks, and it seems that every child that walks in with their parents wants to be a superhero. You're surrounded by masks, fake weapons, and numerous packaged costumes for every age.

You bite down on your bottom lip to stifle every rush of air that threatens to escape your lungs. Kyle's muted grunts are slowly turning into groans.

"Fucking hell, love,” he mutters, his thrusts quicken pace. The boxes beneath you shake and shift. They'll topple over, taking you with them if he isn't careful. Kyle exhales, his hips grinding against yours, holding there as his cum floods your pussy.

This is the agreement. The arrangement.

When you need a shift moved or covered, Kyle will happily do it. But he has free use of your body whenever he wants and at any time.

Kyle gently thrusts, pushing his cum deeper into you.

"We need to go back," you groan, attempting to catch your breath. "There's probably an insane line at the register."

Kyle chuckles. "There wasn't a soul in the store when we came back here."

You glance over your shoulder and scowl. "How long have we been gone?"

With a brief squeeze of your ass, Kyle eases his softening cock from your body. His cum follows him.

As you stand to adjust your clothes, Kyle's arms embrace you.

He kisses the top of your head. "Don't worry your pretty little head over it."

You groan and shove at him. "You're insufferable."

"But you like me," he teases as the two of you exit the small storage space, grabbing a box on the way out.

"On your knees."

You turn and almost scream.

Kyle is standing right behind you wearing one of those goddamn Scream masks. It's one of the red ones with horns.

"What are you doing? You scared me."

You're standing behind the counter at the very back of the store. The only customers are near the front, browsing and oblivious to your work in the back. Most don't even realize they can make a purchase back there.

"On your knees."

You blink. "The cameras, Kyle."

"They're off."

You cross your arms over your chest. "How did you—"

"I have my ways." He nods toward the floor. "On your knees."

You promptly fall. The counter is high enough to obscure at a distance but not if someone walks directly up to it. But you made an agreement with Kyle. If he tells you to get on your knees, you do it.

You present your mouth, and Kyle reaches for the front of his jeans. He opens them up, and then you take him into your mouth. With his hand on the back of your head, you suck and tease, swirling your tongue around the head before taking him all the way to the base.

Kyle starts to groan, and then clears his throat, head on a swivel as he watches the store. You keep at it, finding your own pleasure in the task of pleasing him. The mask certainly doesn't harm. You understand why it's so popular now.

One moment you're throating him, and the next you're pressed against the counter, Kyle quickly adjusting to lean forward, blocking any view of you. He pushes the mask up to reveal his face, grinning widely at whoever is standing there.

"How can I help you?" he asks, voice charming and smooth with zero indication that his cock is down your throat.

Inwardly grinning, you continue to suck him off. This is what he wanted after all. Why not give it to him?

"I'm looking for this," comes a woman's voice.

Kyle leans forward a bit like he's peering at a phone. "Those are in stock. Just over there."

"Over where?"

You take him down to the hilt and his hips jerk in response. "Front of the store. Left-hand side. Second row." He chokes on the last two words, barely getting them out.

You hear footsteps moving away, and then Kyle is glancing down at you, shaking his head softly.

"Swallow," he whispers. "Do it."

As he says it, his release hits your tongue. Relaxing your throat, you allow the cum to slide down as much as possible before you swallow the rest. When every drop is down your throat, he pops his cock from your mouth.

His pants are buttoned and back into place in seconds. You start to get up but his hand lands on your head, pushing you back down.

"Ready to check out?"

"Yes."

"I'll meet you up front."

You watch him go from your spot on the floor. You wait a full minute before checking to make sure it's clear.

"I—I can't. Kyle. Please."

The customers are gone. The registers have been counted. The front doors are locked and all the lights are off. Except one. The one on the desk in the back office.

That lamp is on, casting a soft glow over your naked body. Kyle kneels between your spread legs. All you can see are his eyes. His mouth is busy with other things.

A swipe of his tongue and you're gone. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, you moan loudly, fingers clinging to the edge of the desk. You're supposed to be in your car, driving home. Instead, Kyle is giving you your third orgasm.

"One more," he murmurs against your sex. "One more."

You can't do one more. You really can't.

There are a few second reprieve before Kyle returns to his work. Every limb is shaking, overstimulation thudding through you so hard it's bordering on pain. You finish quick and loud, screaming out into the tiny room.

Kyle is standing and sliding into you within a few brief moments. The old desk creaks under the sharp thrusting. Kyle has one hand on your inner thigh, keeping you wide while the other rests firmly next to your shoulder. He leans over you, panting just as hard as you are.

Kyle's eyes are heavy-lidded with lust. "Feel so good," he groans.

Pushing up onto one elbow, you reach out for him, hand grasping the back of his neck. Kyle grins as you tug, closing the distance. His lips meet yours and it is perfect bliss.

"Finish inside me,” you sigh. “I want to feel you."

Your little admission does something to him. Kyle's groan softens to a sound you've never heard from him before. He kisses you again, and there is deep possession in it.

The two of you might have an agreement. It's the same agreement you’ve had with him last year and the year before. In between the stores closure and opening, there are flirty texts and occasional fucks but nothing serious. Nothing that feels like...whatever the fuck this is.

With a loud groan, Kyle grinds his hips forward, sealing your bodies together. His lips part, and you dip your tongue inside to taste him. Together, your connected bodies feel as one. There is no beginning or end here. There is only simple knowledge of pleasure.

Kyle returns your kisses. Each softer than the last. His arms circle to your waist and then lift, bringing you to an upright position. Dragging you to the edge of the desk, Kyle keeps himself firmly inside you, as if unwilling to part just yet.

He goes in for another kiss. This one on your lips. The next, your cheek.

"Need another shift covered?" he asks.

His heat is nice. Comforting. "Not at the moment."

"Pity," he croons, seeking yet another.

This time it deepens, becoming hot and heavy all over again.

"We don't have to do this, Kyle."

He presses his lips to your exposed shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"We could just...do this. We don't have to do all the other stuff."

"All the other stuff?" he grins.

You punch his shoulder and his smile only widens. "You interested in that, love? In me?" There is a hint of hope in his voice.

"What if I am?" you counter, matching his smile.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

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@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@umno-yeah @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @spookyscaryspoon

@ash-tarte @enarien @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[eclecticmiasma]

Hello! Good evening!

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Mithrun and I had a small scenario pop up in my head, and it would be lovely to see your vision on how this would play out, please and thank you 💕:

AFAB!Elf!reader is a member of the canaries, very soft spoken and rather kind. The nicest, most likely. Against her better judgement she’s down bad for the captain and everyone else is like “pls no I’d rather you not”. (She can fix him/jk)

Mithrun realizes she has feelings for him and in a very subtle way treats her a little more gentle than the others. Lets her spoil him a tiny bit more. Listens to her a bit more.

Reader can only hope one day maybe…just maybe…the captain can show a little interest in her too 🥺 and is oblivious that he lets her get away with a little more than others

Just very soft feelings all over

I won't spoil it for those who haven't read the manga, but there are instances where we see Mithrun treat Kabru rather favorably and opening up in great detail about his past. In a side story, we also see that younger Mithrun cared for the other canaries quite a bit. I imagine that even without his desires, Mithrun would appreciate care shown to him in his own Mithrun-y way.

SFW

Mithrun might be adverse to you at first, because when he really looks inward you remind him of his younger self.

However, Mithrun would soon come to see that you don't have the same...pitfalls in your personality that brought him where he is today. He might even come to somewhat admire your ability to stay genuinely kind in a world like theirs.

The other canaries start to notice that you have a much easier time getting their leader to take an ounce of care in his own well-being than any of them ever have. Some of them think it's entertaining while others (Pattadol) think the favoritism is unnacceptable.

Cithis might tease him about it if you aren't around, "We don't want to worry poor [y/n] by getting all dehydrated now, do we captain?"

Even the mention of your name is enough to motivate Mithrun, though you remain completely unaware. In your mind, the captain regards you as nothing more than a subordinate.

You don't notice the way his good eye trains on you as you talk about life before the canaries. You don't realize how fast he falls asleep when you're near. The magnitude of the fact that one night he voluntarily tells you a story about when he and his brother were children slips by you completely.

Pattadol is the only one to ever bring it up to you directly, and you truly have no idea what she's talking about. None of the others help her either, preferring to sit back and watch how her face reddens with frustration.

Mithrun isn't oblivious to the situation, however. He knows that there's something about you that...calms him, at the very least. He's sharp enough to know that you feel the same way about him, perhaps even stronger.

He likes having you around. It's not something he wants when you're gone, but it's something he enjoys while you're there. Because he knows you have some type of feelings for him, he indulges you at every turn. He even lets you wash his back and massage the scarred tissue built at the tips of his ears- though you're terribly relieved he can't see the heat rising on your cheeks as you do so.

One day, long long after the dungeoneering is done, perhaps you might even be able to help Mithrun find his desires, find himself again.

*do not post elsewhere without explicit permission. please consider reblogging, as Tumblr tends to hide adult content!

[RULES] [MASTERLISTS] [AO3] [KO-FI]

[writing-until-i-drop]

Morning Sex | Tyler Owens x reader | wc: 585

No use of y/n | 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings! free use, waking up to sex with Tyler (pre-discussed), unprotected p in v (don't forget the condom), lmk if I missed anything

Ao3

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Tyler was insatiable when it came to you. Whether it was squeezing your ass when Boone had the camera pointed elsewhere or taking you hard and fast against the door of a truckstop bathroom when the Wrangles stopped for gas, he needed his hands on you as much as he could and you were happy to satisfy his need, giving him a free pass to initiate sex whenever he wanted as long as Boone’s camera was elsewhere. 

Tyler always woke first, hard as a rock with you pressed against him, the need for you overwhelming. His calloused hand slipped from where it rested on your stomach downwards, slipping a finger between your folds easily, your panties having been abandoned on the floor the night before within minutes of getting to the room when he had fucked you on the desk. Still asleep, your body reacted to him, pressing back against him. 

“Must be a good dream,” Tyler whispered, kissing your bare shoulder. “You’re already wet for me,” He slowly rubbed circles over your clit, listening to your breathing change into soft pants. You were the heaviest sleeper Tyler had ever met, barely stirring when he slowly turned you to face him, draping your leg over his hip. 

“Ty,” You moaned when he pushed into you, finally waking up, eyes blinking open. Tyler kissed you softly, lazily thrusting into you. 

“Morning, beautiful,” You shift, making the position more comfortable. “This is your wakeup call,” He didn’t have to see your face to know you were rolling your eyes. He knew you like the back of his hand, all of your habits and preferences both in and out of bed. Tyler loved every part of you, the sex was just a plus. 

“Is it even light out yet?” Tyler chuckled, rolling you onto your back, picking up his pace. You melted into the pillows, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Nevermind, don’t care.” 

“That’s what I thought, baby. Admit it, you love it when you wake up with my cock inside your sweet pussy.” You opened your mouth to respond but no words came out as Tyler’s hips snap forward, burying himself deep inside of you. “Fuck, beautiful, you’re a dream come true.” 

“Ty,” You panted, pulling him into a kiss, tugging at his messy hair. “Harder.” Tyler happily obliged, setting a pace that had you moaning his name loud enough to wake your neighbors but neither of you cared. He slipped a hand down to your clit, working the sensitive bundle of nerves until you were writhing beneath him. He wanted you as desperate as he was, needing him just as bad as he needed you. 

“Come for me, beautiful, come on my cock while I fill you up,” Tyler grunted. “Want to know I’m dripping down your thigh while we’re out there today, want to know that you’re thinking of me even when there’s a tornado right in front of us. Fuck,” He groaned, kissing you hard, his thrusts growing erratic.

“Love you,” You dug your nails into his back. Tyler came with a shout, rolling onto his back, arms around your waist to keep you against his chest. You whined in overstimulation, still coming down from your orgasm, feeling filled to the brim with Tyler still inside of you.

“I love you too,” Tyler kissed your hair as you rested your head on his chest. “We should probably get ready for the day soon.”

“Five more minutes,” You kissed his chest, eyes drifting shut.

Taglist: @wanderingsouls6261 @halflifejess @kyemna @alipap3 @yutangwl @teacupsandtopgun @glenpowellluver @closetspngirl @that-one-fangirl69 @starshinegrl @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @shanimallin87 @sarah-bear706318 @carolina-on-my-mind03 @winelover27 @cevansbaby-dove

@atuman @cherrycola27 @youcouldntbemorewrong

[starmocha]

the day bleeds into nightfall [Zayne/MC ★ 1242 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] She was coming home soon. A/N: So, um, you know those text messages you get from the guys when you don’t sign in for 30 days or more? Yeah…this stemmed from that…oops.

She was coming home soon.

It had been over a month since she was assigned a mission in another town. Zayne always worried whenever she was taken far away from him, though he knew she was a strong, capable fighter able to hold her ground against any wanderers no matter how big or small.

He couldn't help it. It was in his nature to always worry about her, to fuss over her, nag her—love her.

To assuage his worries, he kept up the text message exchange, finding solace in sharing tidbits of his mundane life with her as he waited for her to return home.

She was coming home soon.

Zayne passed a poster, pausing to examine it before he snapped a photo on his phone.

He typed out a message:

They're holding a new Kitty Cards event next month. Didn't I promise you a rematch last time?

He attached the photo and hit sent. He took another glance at the poster, and resumed his walk home, already seeing her seething across from him when he would, without a doubt, win again.

She was coming home soon.

It seemed his schedule as of late had been packed with surgeries after surgeries. He hadn't been home much recently, choosing to sleep in his car or office for a little bit instead out of mere convenience. When he needed sustenance, the cafeteria food would suffice or he would stop by one of the eateries near the hospital. For some reason, lately he didn’t care too much for taste, finding no pleasure in the meals he ate. He simply needed food from a biological standpoint, desiring only the energy they would give him to carry on with his life.

Remember to eat and sleep on time, he sent the message at noon and then reclined the seat in his car for a few minutes of shut eyes before his next scheduled surgery.

She was coming home soon.

Zayne mindlessly scrolled through the suggestions of movies on the TV's streaming app, finding nothing particularly interesting. He passed the different movies displayed, not reading the titles or even registering the thumbnails, but eventually he finally settled on a random psychological thriller, though his attention continued to remain elsewhere.

As the opening credit started, Zayne looked down at his phone, already typing away a new message for her:

The movie you wanted to see should be released by the time you come home. I'll buy us tickets. Hurry back.

She was coming home soon.

It's going to rain next Thursday. Dress appropriately, and don't dilly-dally in wet clothes.

He stared at the sent message, and without thinking, sent another one as an afterthought:

I can't always stay by your side.

She was coming home soon.

One day, after a particularly long meeting with the hospital's esteemed medical staff, Zayne returned to his office and noticed the potted plant on his desk near the window.

He settled into his seat, grabbed his cup of water, and poured the remaining liquid into the pot. He looked at the growing plant fondly before snapping a single photo to attach to his message:

The daffodil we bought together is thriving. Hurry back so you don't miss its flower.

He leaned back in his chair, chuckling softly at the memory of her mistaking garlic bulbs for daffodils.

She was coming home soon.

He visited the bakery near the hospital, the very same one where they had run into one another during an afternoon rain shower.

As he stared at the assortments of delectable pastries in the glass display case, he found that they did not brighten his mood as usual. In the back of his mind, he could hear the different voices competing to be heard.

Zayne breathed in sharply, wanting the voices to be silenced, and ordered one mille-feuille, not noticing the workers' surprised expression, unused to seeing the sweet-toothed doctor order so little.

When he returned to his car, Zayne opened the cake box and scooped a single forkful into his mouth.

If I have something sweet, I'd be happy, even if it was a bad day.

He dropped the plastic fork and broke down in his car.

That evening, he sent her another text:

Have you eaten yet? There is a new hot pot restaurant that opened downtown. Hurry on back to me. I'll let you indulge to your heart's content.

She was coming home soon.

He heard the hushed whispers, caught the sympathetic glances from his peripheral vision.

Greyson told him it was okay if he needed to take time off. All of the doctors at the hospital were ready to cover all of his shifts for as long as he needed.

At first Zayne dismissed everyone, baffled by their unusual reactions. It was just another normal day. Patients were in and out of the hospital like clockwork. There was no time to waste with small talks like this.

It was just another normal day. Like yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that, and the—

Zayne froze in the middle of the operation, his hands shaking as he heard the staff around him fall into a state of panic as the fifteen-year-old patient started experiencing Evol-related complications during the cardiac surgery. Normally level-headed, he found that he was unable to will his body and mind to act accordingly. He stood there, watching through blank eyes, this perfectly crafted world of his crumbling as the memories of the past three months stared him down in the surgery room in a cruel taunt.

She was coming home soon.

She was coming home soon.

She was coming home soon…

At first, he couldn't hear any of the yelling from the surgery staff. Everything and everyone sounded like they were underwater, just muffled voices competing to be heard. Even everyone's movements seemed sluggish, as if time had slowed down, prolonging this hellish moment.

When Greyson rushed in and yanked Zayne away from the surgery table, screaming in his face, he immediately snapped out of his daze, and moved quickly to stabilize the patient, barking out orders to the staff.

By the end of the grueling, nerve-wracking hour, the young patient pulled through to everyone’s relief. Within twenty minutes, Zayne put in his request for an extended leave and offered his sincerest apology to the patient's family for his carelessness.

As he quietly left Akso Hospital, he heard the hushed whispers again, seeing the sympathetic glances from his peripheral vision.

He wished he was deaf and blind.

For the first half hour, he drove aimlessly through Linkon City before he found himself leaving behind the neon lights and heading to the cliffside on the outskirt of town overlooking the city. On the horizon, the colorful lights of the city competed for dominance with the bright stars in the night sky.

Zayne pulled out his phone, his fingers were already typing out a message for her, recalling his earlier incompetence. Halfway through the message, his eyes landed on the past conversations. He shakily scrolled up, reading the familiar one-sided conversation with an increasingly fast heartrate.

His breath hitched when he finally found one message from her, dated three months earlier:

Zayne, when I come home, let's make up for lost time! My treat!

He dropped his phone and screamed.

Three days later, he placed a small bouquet of jasmine for her.

“I miss—I love you…”

She was not coming home.

[tinytalkingtina]

Writing a Happier Ending

Written for the November @steddiemicrofic prompt, using the word "guard" and 532 words

Rating G | Ao3 link

Tags: Fairy tale, cursed Prince Steve, falling in love, first kisses, "as you wish" continuing to be peak romance

Thank you to steddiecameraroll-graphics for the lovely divider!

Once upon a time, a king and queen ruled over a kingdom bordered by a great lake. Though skilled in matters of diplomacy, and outwardly kind to those of their own station, the couple had never been blessed with a child. 

The lack of an heir was a never-ending source of embarrassment for the king and queen. Their resentment towards each other grew and grew, until one day the pair sought out an audience with the powerful Fairy of the Forest.

When they begged her for a miracle, the fairy asked them why they wanted to have a child:

“You have a prosperous kingdom, why would you ask for more?”

The King and Queen replied that they wished to have an heir, so that their legacy might continue, and so someone might speak of their virtues long after they were gone.

The fairy thought for a moment.

“Very well,” she said. “I can grant you what you desire. But it comes at a price. Your child shall never truly be loved by another, unless they can see and accept him as he is.”

The monarchs readily agreed.

Prince Stephen was born soon after, a squalling star-marked beauty. 

As the years passed and the prince grew, his parents held onto lofty expectations for their son. But no matter how hard he tried, the prince could never quite meet them. Eventually, the king and queen turned their attentions elsewhere.

One day, the prince made a rare appearance in town. Eddie tried not to gawk, as hard as it was.

Jeff saw him staring and rolled his eyes. “Everyone knows Prince Stephen is nothing but a pleasure seeker who’s bedded half the court. Better to stay clear of him.”

Surrounded by fawning courtiers, at first glance Stephen seemed just as vapid as Jeff proclaimed him to be. But the longer Eddie looked, the more he saw how people flocked to him only with selfish demands, and how guarded Stephen kept himself.

It was curiosity that drove Eddie to steal into the palace gardens that night, unable to rest until he found out what lay beneath the mask. Deep within the hedge maze, he found Stephen all alone, his brow furrowed in concentration as he stared at a book by candlelight.

Eddie's foot hit a stick on the path.

At the noise, Stephen drew his sword, but sighed when he found Eddie, frozen in fear.

“Hello. I suppose you also want something from me like all the others.”

Eddie stared at the tired and sad face before him.

“I don't want anything from you, your majesty.” Eddie replied. “But do you wish for something?”

Stephen shrugged. “Perhaps you can help me read this book. The letters dance around when I try.”

“I think that can be arranged,” Eddie said with a smile.

He returned the next evening, and many times after that. 

Every night, the prince would ask Eddie what he wanted from him. And each night, Eddie would ask instead what Stephen desired for. Seasons passed, until one day he asked for something new:

“I wish for a kiss from someone who loves me.” Given permission, Eddie drew Stephen close.

“As you wish, my heart.”

And then the two of them ran away to start new lives elsewhere. Stephen learned how to do his own laundry and they lived happily ever after, the end.

Misc. notes: -Eddie ran an apothecary in town

-It was implied, but the idea with Steve seeking meaningless sex from those around him was it at least let him pretend someone cared for him, poor thing

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Anniversary

Kishibe x Reader smut. 18+ only MDNI. AO3

7.5k words

You and Kishibe have been hooking up casually for a long time now. A year, exactly. You don't realize it, but he does. When he invites you over tonight, you start to get the feeling he has something else on his mind.

Content Includes: penetrative sex, oral sex, (he eats it from the back because I said so), uncomfortable conversations about the nature of relationships, choking, smoking, spanking, orgasm denial. it's nasty, hot, and wet idk what else to say. Kishibe may be OOC but i think hes more of a romantic than people think

It started so casually. You had been at the bar, too focused on the book sat open in front of you to see him moving to the seat one away from yours. Not that you would have minded, the reason you had come to the bar to read in the first place was to avoid being bored out of your mind at home. He opened the conversation, asking what you had to drink and if you wanted another. His intentions were clear from the jump, that’s what Kishibe was like: direct. He never seemed to have interest in ambiguous flirting. He spoke to you clearly and asked questions with easy answers. Even answered a few of your own. That night when he invited you to his place after last call. The sex had been excellent; he was focused and skilled, rough and passionate enough to keep you cumming over and over, but it wasn’t intimate, you could both feel the veil between the two of you. You hadn’t expected to see him again when you finally broke out of the post coital haze and back into your jeans and shoes. 

“You don’t have to leave. You can stay the night if you want.” He offered, sitting up against the headboard, a cigarette bouncing lightly between his lips as he spoke. A small burgundy bruise was beginning to form at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, your handiwork, you likely had a few of your own. 

You finished lacing up your final shoe and stood to grab your bag, “That’s okay, I’ve got an early morning. Thanks for this.” You knew it sounded like a cliche, but you really did have an early start to your day. Even as the words exited your kiss bitten lips, you felt the dread of tomorrow’s workload creeping up on you. 

Kishibe left the bed, sheets still rumpled from rolling around together. He stood before you, still naked, and crossed the room to you. You expected he was getting up simply to lock the door behind you after you left. To your surprise, he took your face in his large hands and kissed you. Not the teeth clashing, tongue tangling kiss of before, but a romantic goodnight kiss. 

“Be careful getting home.” He said, still holding your face, he released you and let his arms fall to his sides, “if I see you at the bar again, think I could bring you back here?” 

“I’d like that.” you were still a lot shocked by the kiss.

You left him that night, and found yourself frequenting that bar more and more. He did find you again, and again, and again. You’d drink together, talk for an hour or so before he would invite you to join him back to his place. Eventually you did start to spend the night, but only on nights when your sessions of pleasure had extended later than was safe to walk home. After the fourth or fifth time you had invited him to your apartment, saying your place was actually a lot closer than his (it was barely a four block difference, just in the other direction). He had slept in your bed, or tried to, smoked on your patio, even showered at your place once or twice if he was running late or met you afterwork and was still grimy. 

Kishibe was not your boyfriend. You were not his girlfriend. You didn’t go out together, the only time you could be seen out together was meeting at the bar and sitting side by side before leaving to one of your homes. More and more often you two would cut out the pageantry of meeting elsewhere and meet up directly at the home of whoever made the call. You knew he worked at Public Safety (the uniform and overall demeanor gave him away), and he knew the rough outline of your job. You didn’t have any complaints, you didn’t think he did either. He was a good fuck and a nice man, you got the sense he wasn’t really that nice of a man, but he was always nice to you. Ample orgasms, warm body to sleep next to, good conversationalist, if a bit reserved. You would often go weeks without seeing each other, before he would call you, voice already dripping whiskey through your phone’s receiver. Or you would call, too much on your mind, body begging for the clarity you’d get after the three or four orgasms he would give you. 

So tonight, when he called and asked you to meet him at a hotel, you were surprised. Of course you still agreed, changing quickly into underwear you felt sexier in than your laying around the house set, refreshing your hair, and packing a small overnight bag with a change of clothes and some toiletries.  It wasn’t until you were standing outside the room number he told you over the phone, in a much nicer hotel than you had expected, that the peculiarity of the situation really started to press on you. Suddenly your jeans and sweater felt sloppy, you wondered why he hadn’t just asked you to meet him at his place. One knock was all that was needed for him to swing the door wide, tie already removed, too few buttons undone on his work shirt, jacket missing. It was rare to see him smile, but here he was, scar crinkling and lips wide. You blinked in surprise at his quick welcome. 

“Hey kid,” he said, his smile easing down as he moved to the side allowing you to step into the lavish suite. 

“Hey.” You stepped inside, you didn’t hate the nickname, you were 20 years younger than him (give or take). In fact, something about it ignited a pulse inside of you that you didn’t care to examine that thoroughly. 

The suite was large, a sitting room with a patterned couch and coffee table comprised the main area, a door behind led to the bedroom, you assumed, and the bathroom was by the entrance. Even just on a side peek, you could see a large bathtub inside. The wall furthest from you was mostly glass, which appeared to let out onto a balcony, overlooking the city. Kishibe had drawn the curtains mostly out of the way, dark fabric fluttering in the window from the open sliding door. You’re sure your face betrayed your awe.  

“Don’t get used to this, alright?,” his breath was hot on the back of your ear, head moved right behind you, one of his hands slipped your bag off of your shoulder, “I got an extension on a job, and they put me up in here.” He set your bag down next to the coffee table, you turned to face him, still trepidacious. 

“So you called me?” 

“Yeah. Seemed like a waste to be here all by myself. You like it?” 

You took another look around the suite before nodding. This was by far the nicest hotel you had ever stayed in, used to mid range single rooms and crappy motels. 

“Why me?” You don’t even really know what you meant by the question, if it was only about the hotel, or if maybe this was a large inquiry about the nature of your relationship with him. 

He laughed, “Come on, kid, it’s not a proposal. I just like having you around. That so hard to believe?” 

He pulled a cigarette from his pack, holding it between his lips before gesturing to the patio behind you, “want a smoke?” 

You did. You needed something to ground your swimming head. You stay stiffly on the rattan patio set smoking your cigarette carefully, not wanting any ash to sully the pristine terrace. In juxtaposition Kishibe seemed completely relaxed, long legs stretched out in front of him, leaning against the back of his chair, not caring where his ash may fall. A small ashtray sits on the table between you, the summer night air is thick and sticky, if it weren’t for the soft breeze from being so high up, you would be shedding your top layer already. 

“Relax.” Kishibe exhales the result of a long drag. 

You do. Your shoulders loosen, your spine releases, muscles softening. You take a drag and allow the tobacco and nicotine to soothe your racing thoughts. He looks so good languidly smoking and watching you. He catches you staring and pats his leg, a practiced move you have come to recognize easily. You stand and move to sit on his lap. Immediately he wraps one strong arm around you to support your back. Your own find a home around the back of his neck. His hand moved up and down your back soothingly.

“I didn’t know you were so inflexible.” He teases. 

“Excuse me?” you laugh lightly at him preparing to joke about him knowing how flexible you really could be. 

“Didn’t think a change of scenery would rattle you so much.” his hand on your back sneaks under your top to trace lazy circles on your skin, you feel your body immediately relax under his touch, “You’re never this quiet.” his lips were right against your neck as he spoke, starting to trail hot kisses along the column of your throat. 

You could already feel yourself fighting the urge to rock your hips in his lap, getting wetter from his touches, the buzz in your head of nicotine adding to the haze of pleasure. You moved a hand from his neck down to the front of his shirt, undoing buttons and sliding your hand inside to touch the hair along his chest. His hand on your back traveled down to cup your clothed ass, your head tilted back allowing him better access to your neck and you could no longer keep your hips from rocking against his lap. 

“Guess it was foolish of me to think you’d like something special for our anniversary.” 

Every cell in your body stopped suddenly. Hips stilled, hands immobilized, moans halted despite Kishibe continuing his migration across your throat. You started to push him away, but before you could stand he gripped you tighter. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot.” His tone was joking, no, teasing. Was he fucking with you? 

Mentally you flipped through your calendar, it hadn’t been summer when you met him. It had been spring, right? It was warm, but not so warm, he had had his coat on. But then you remembered, it was summer. Last summer, exactly 365 days since he had taken you home that first time. He was right. You immediately felt guilty for falling short, but did you really need to? Why would he have even remembered a thing like that? What did dates and anniversaries mean when you weren’t together, when the only thing you did was fuck.

Was that all you did? Yes, right? 

So what if he kept a copy of a book you lent him on his bedside table at his place, small scribbles on slips of paper tucked in between the pages? He wasn’t a very sound sleeper anyway, you just assumed he kept it there for a quick way to lull himself back to sleep on rougher nights. Sure you always made sure to grab an extra bottle of his preferred whiskey for your pantry in case he decided to stop by when you were unprepared. But that was just to save yourself or him a last minute trip to the liquor store. That wasn't a relationship, not even close. You hadn't discussed families or dreams or personal histories, at least not a length. The spare clothes you kept at his place were for convenience, you started smoking his brand of cigarettes when you had run out of your own and bummed one off of him, he started making coffee for you himself instead of walking to the convenience store to save money, not to extend his time with you in the mornings.--Oh my God. 

You couldn’t stop yourself, suddenly every behavior became so loaded, carrying so much intimacy where there previously had been none. But there wasn't none, you just hadn’t paid close enough attention. He had never asked you to be his girlfriend, or even on a date. You didn’t even really eat together, sharing a coffee in the morning and drinks at night. Once or twice you had shared dinner or a late night snack, but never beakfast. Your mind raced examining and reexamining how you had gotten to this point with him, and if you were about to ruin it in your obliviousness. 

Whether it was the sound of your pounding heartbeat or the fact that you had gone mute, Kishibe finally removed his lips from you, his dark eyes patiently scanning your face. He brought his cigarette to his lips and puffed, exhaling through the side of his mouth still waiting for a response from you.

“But…we’re not dating.” was all you could manage. 

His head cocked slightly, brows twitching inward, you could tell he was amused by this whole situation-- whereas you were reeling “no we’re not, but it’s nice to celebrate milestones, isn’t it?”

He fished his flask out of his pants pocket, having to lift his hips, you on top of him, to do so. You knew how strong Kishibe was, you were intimately familiar with how easy it was for him to move you, throw you, fold you, however he wanted. Him arching into you brought his groin up to yours, you could feel him starting to get hard underneath his pants, you sitting on his lap often had this effect on him. Once he had retrieved his flask he held it up to you, you unscrewed it for him, allowing him to keep his other arm around your hips, once again starting to move under your shirt tipping his head back to drink. 

“Kishi, we don’t have an anniversary to celebrate. We aren’t together.” You weren't even sure what point you were trying to get across, whether you were trying to offload the guilt you felt for potentially undervaluing something that could mean a lot to him or just trying to remind yourself and him that you two had never had a conversation about the nature of your relationship. 

He was starting to be less amused, “You don’t feel like a year of good sex is worth celebrating? Guess it wasn’t as good as I thought. Although I don’t hear you complain, much.”

He tipped his flask toward you, punctuating his joke. Was he really messing around about this? 

You nearly accepted, desperately wanting the whiskey inside to bring you back to your senses, but you shook your head, opting to press forward through the discomfort, “Of course it's good. But aren't anniversaries for people who ...I don’t know…belong to each other?” 

You were a smart woman, educated, quick, employed well, you were fucking verbose but in this moment you couldnt string an articulate thought together for the life of you. Words felt jumbled, either too heavy for your casual situation or too dismissive of the ounce of vulnerability he was offering you. Did he mean for this to be the next step? Did he want you to be his girlfriend? Did you want that? How much would it really change? Before tonight everything had felt so simple, relationships were complicated and required patience and expectations, something you weren't sure either of you had time for. What if this was how this ended? What if you began to resent each other and you---

Kishibe tapped his fingers on your temple, “Get out of there. Come back.”

That had jostled you out of your spiral and back into your body, he was still so solid underneath you. Your silence does not seem to have scared him away yet. But he looked thoughtful, observant to your fluctuations, he was paying close attention to you, as though reading your thoughts as they were transcribed onto your forehead. He looked so sincere, eyes soft and warm, his usually furrowed and frustrated brows, relaxed.

“Belong to each other, huh? Look kid, I don’t usually keep up with one person this much. And forgive my assumption but, you don’t either. I like the nights we have together, I like the mornings too. You haven't told me about seeing anyone else, I don't mind if you have, but it certainly doesn't feel like you have been.” Even when he was being sincere he was a cheeky shit, “You don’t have to be my girl, if you don’t want to. Probably shouldn't be stuck with an old man like me, anyway. But I haven't just been wasting time with you the past year.”

Your heart surged, you hadn’t even realized it but you felt it too. Each encounter cracked through your barriers more and more. Even as recently as last week he had stayed at your apartment for two hours after waking up sipping coffee on your patio while you did the morning crossword. It was so domestic, you hadn’t clocked it then, as it was part of your routine. But that was exactly it, it was your routine and he had assimilated so seamlessly. How could you have been so blind?

“Kishi…” you brought your hands to the sides of his face, mirroring his first send off to you, “who knew you were such a romantic.” 

His scruff was rough against your palms, and scratched lightly as his smile rose to his cheeks, “Whaddya say? I like belonging to you, you want to belong to me too?” 

You couldn't deny you were nervous about what this establishment could change about your situation, but you want that so desperately. You had been on your own for so long, you couldn't remember the last relationship you had had. You were out of practice, but so was he, maybe you could figure it out together. 

“I guess happy anniversary.” You smiled leaning down to him and pressing your lips together. 

The hand he had kept on your back pulled you close to his chest, his other hand had abandoned his flask and now gripped your thigh. His mouth tasted so familiar, smoke and alcohol with the undernote of his mouthwash. You were so used to his taste, you rarely even noticed anymore, but with the new perspective this conversation had given you, you reacquainted yourself with what you had been taking for granted. Kishibe has always been a good kisser, directing your mouth against his, lips soft and warm, tongue agile and skilled against yours. What you hadn't realized before was that Kishibe may be the best kisser you had ever known. His teeth seemed to disappear, allowing your tongue ample room to explore his mouth. He knew just when to suck lightly on your bottom lip, when to allow you a quick breath while keeping you breathless against him. His hands wandered freely, one now tangling in the hair at the back of your head as the other slid down the back of your pants to grip the flesh of your ass. The feeling of his calloused hands on your body ignited your nervous system, you felt effervescent. Like champagne just before being popped, fizzy and sparkly. You were panting against him now, pulling away to shift your legs to straddle him in his chair which could just barely fit the pair of you. Your hands cupped his face, rounded his neck, mussed though his hair. You wanted to touch every part of him, feel how new he felt in the wake of your shared confession. Your hips rocked together, he was getting hard again, you could feel him right up against your core. You must have been radiating heat, the way he shuttered. 

“If I knew this is how you’d respond, I’d have asked you to be my woman a long time ago.” Kishibe slid his tongue into your mouth again, now running his hands up and down from the small of your back, to the back of your neck. 

His woman, His. When was the last time you had even entertained the idea of belonging to someone. You were filled with excitement, feeling yourself start to drip into your panties at his possessive words. You started to finish your earlier job of unbuttoning his shirt. Kishibe had an incredible body, caveat of age sure, but also for anyone. Strong muscles built over years, decades, of careful cultivation. He wasn't a cut as maybe he once had been, but the muscles in his abdomen were still clearly visible. Scars littered his whole body, obviously the most apparent being the slash from lip to ear you had felt against your own lips many times, but his torso and back resembled a spider's web, pale lines crossing and crisscrossing, so much pain embedded just under his skin. You found your eyes began to sting with unexpected tears as you beheld him. Breaking the kiss and allowing your hands and eyes to scan over the topography of his body. This was from your first time seeing him shirtless, you had observed his scars while laying together in bed, or in the mornings when he hadn’t yet gotten dressed for work. You wondered about each one, what sort of devil (or man) had marred him, leaving him with another etching. 

“Don’t start getting sentimental over me,” Kishibe slid his hands down your waist, once again knowing exactly what you were thinking looking at him, “I’m not gone yet. You can mourn me later.” 

His dark humor usually lightened you, but this one held a specific truth that you had not yet acknowledged. He was a devil hunter, he fought for his own life near daily. You didn’t know a lot about devils or devil hunting, but you knew it was rare for devil hunters to have survived so long without retiring. There was a very real chance that he could die on you, leaving you heartbroken and alone. But you were too far gone now, you didn’t know how this would end either in tragedy and heartbreak or something more hopeful, but you couldn’t control that now. You could only celebrate being here with him now. 

“That’s your big plan, huh? Get me all obsessed with you just so you can leave someone behind to cry at your funeral?”, you wanted to tease him back, meeting him on his own morbid level. 

He sat up pulling your chest flush against his, “Awe, you’d cry for me?”

“You’re sick.” you giggled kissing him again. 

“Mmmmhm” he mumbled against your lips, finally gripping you tightly to him and standing, his inhuman strength making your full form nothing for him to carry easily. 

Kishibe carried you inside, lips still against yours and brought you into the bedroom you had speculated about earlier. “Switch on the wall, hit it for me” he instructed through desperate kisses. 

Your hand flew out quickly groping the wall by the door frame before finding the rocker switch and pushing the top half, illuminating the space. Kishibe always wanted the lights on, wanting to see you come undone underneath him, see your body writhe and flush under his tongue, his fingers, anything. He had to see you to know it was real. He laid you down on the bed, the duvet was plush and sank lightly under you. This really was a nice hotel. The bed was big with a mattress that perfectly combined support with a soft spongy bounce. You moved back toward the center of the bed, enjoying the luxury as Kishibe stood at the foot of the bed, removing his shirt and pants. You shed your own top and wiggled out of your pants, leaving your bra and underwear. Kishibe liked taking them off himself. 

Standing at his full height in front of you, nearly six foot and five inches wearing only his boxers, your heart began to race. The way he looked down at you, with hungry eyes, pupils dilated in lust, lips parted already breathing heavily. He was already leaking against his boxers, a wet spot forming in the dark fabric.

He palmed himself, taking you in, resting on your elbows in barely anything. You had worn his favorite bra of yours, a sheer black underwire unpadded bra, so simple but so classic, he could see your nipples hardening through the material. Your panties matched, barely held together with the thin material, he could tell you had chosen this specifically for him. You had. You knew he liked you in black, and just barely covered. Desperate under his gaze, you moved forward to sit with your knees underneath you. Putting on a little show of crawling toward him, your position on the bed brings you much closer to eye level with him. Locking eyes you moved your hands down the expanse of his shoulders, he was so broad. His muscles twitched under your soft hands, a small groan leaving his lips, Kishibe tended to be quieter than you had expected. Dirty talk was one thing, but allowing himself to moan freely was difficult for him, it felt too vulnerable, too weak somehow. But this was different, things had changed, vulnerability was already present, he had already put himself out there to be rejected and hadn’t been. He felt lighter under your hands, in your gaze. An ever wandering hand of his found its way into your hair, pulling you into another deep kiss. 

“Love that pretty mouth,” he spoke hot against your lips, “show me how talented you are.” 

Your anxiety was shed at his instruction. This was how it had always been with him, he told you just what he wanted and expected you to do the same. Your kisses moved down the his throat, lips becoming raw against the rough texture of his stubble. You liked dragging this part out. Just before giving him what he craved, seeing how far you could push him towards begging. Of course he never did, and likely never would, he was more patient than you and more prideful. But you always tried. You run your tongue down the length of his torso, your own hand replacing his on his clothed erection feeling how swollen and hot he had become. His hand stayed in your hair, gripping the roots tightly as you teased him. Even breaths left him, but the hand betrayed his urgency, he wanted your mouth so badly, he was starting to consider begging when you pressed your face against the precum leaking through the fabric. Hot tongue flopping out to taste him. 

“You’re filthy.” He remarked with a pleased smile coming over him. 

You didn't respond, just nodded, feeling the combination of your saliva and his precum spread over your cheek. Finally you removed his boxers, his painfully hard cock springing free before you. Kishibe is a big man, tall, broad, big hands, big feet, he took up too much room in your bed, he ducked under doorways and struggled to find pants long enough, and his cock was no exception. Around eight inches in length, heavy balls underneath that were more sensitive than he let on, you needed two hands if you wanted to completely encircle his girth. No wonder he was so arrogant. Glistening pleasure leaked from the tip already, goading you to slip your tongue around his head, dipping it into his slit to collect his offering. His taste was as perfect as the rest of him, so unique to him, you could never get enough.  You let a moan loose as you brought him into your mouth, overproducing saliva to give your hand pumping the rest of him more lubrication. Kishibe groaned above you, head tipping back for a moment as he sank into your hot mouth. His hand as the back of your head was encouraging, pushing slightly but allowing you to go at your own pace. Not wanting to miss out on the sight of you sucking him off, he rolled his head to the side, half lidded eyes looking down to watch. You were skilled at pleasuring him with your mouth, moving your hand and mouth in tandem, leaving even an inch untouched. Your tongue swirled around the head, causing him to shudder. You pulled off from him, still working your hand up and down his shaft as you slid under him to tongue at his balls. HIs abdominal muscles jumped at the sensation of your sliding your tongue along the seam before sucking one ball into your mouth and then the other. 

“Fuck girl….” his voice was shakier than it had been before so his words became dirtier and more possessive, him trying to tip the scales back in his favor. You nodded under him, balls still in your mouth before moving back up to take him into your throat.

Having warmed yourself up, you could now take him much deeper into your throat, encasing the whole of his length. Both hands were now at the back of your head as he tugged your hair, pushing you down further. You kept your tongue flat along the underside of his shaft, tightening your throat around him and opening your eyes to meet him. A blush has spread from his neck across his shoulders and chest, he watched you closely, eyebrows pinching together as you gagged on him. Drool pooled and slipped from your lips, his cock leaving little room inside your mouth for anything else, it dripped onto the bed underneath you. Slowly you started to back off of his length, his hands no longer holding you in place. Instead they cupped either side of your face as you found your breath again. Kishibe ran a thumb across your bottom lip, collecting the spit there and spreading it further down your chin, your jaw hinged open following his silent directive. Leaning over you, collecting his own spit and releasing it into your open, waiting mouth, you moaned and swallowed gratefully. 

“Good girl.” He praised you, making your heart shimmer. He pushed your hair out of your face with one hand, stroking your cheek for a moment watching you bask in the golden light of his affection. But he could only be so generous for so long,  “Bend over.”

He joined you on the bed, mattress sinking under the addition of his weight, his hands staying on you however they could. You moved onto your  knees, turning around, shivering as his hand skimmed up the back of your leg. Calloused hands leaving gooseflesh on your soft, pleasure heightened skin. You posed yourself onto your hands and knees, back arching to lift your ass prettily. You always felt so pretty under his touch, no room for insecurity or self doubt when he was spoiling you like this. Kishibe moved behind you, hands moving up your back pushing you down into a deeper arch, face against the bed. Once he had you in his favorite position, he looped his thumbs under the delicate fabric of your panties, slowly sliding them down your legs. You had soaked them so thoroughly you could actually hear it as he pulled them away, pooling them around your knees. Now bare to him, the chill of fresh air hitting your core, you shivered again. One of his long fingers dipped between your folds, sliding up and down, playing with your wetness. 

“I don't even have to stretch you out, do I? She’s already crying for me.” you could hear the wicked smirk on his face without seeing it. 

“Kishi, please…Don’t tease.”You whimpered, pressing the side of your face into the duvet, peeking at him behind your lashes. 

He gave a small slap to your bottom, watching the fat jiggle, “Don’t get bossy, Kid. You know I’ll take good care of you.” His thumbs pulled your lips apart, showing him how wet you were, “You got this wet just from sucking my cock, huh? You really are such a slut.”

Your face burned, embarrassment daring to creep up but being cut short by the feeling of his fat tongue licking you from clit to hole. Your eyes rolled back, a throaty moan leaving your lips at finally being touched by him. He hummed at your taste, dipping his tongue into your hole to pull more from you. One of his hands moved up your back, keeping you pressed against the mattress as he ate messily. Wet slurping and lapping filled your ears, your whimpers and moans filling his. Eating pussy from the back was his favorite, yours too, he was so skilled with his tongue, unafraid to get drenched in your juices. His facial hair scratched your outer labia and the skin of your inner thighs, the light needling only adding to how fucking good it was. He slid his tongue up and down you all the way from the clitoris to your asshole. Convinced you wouldn't move from where he had posed you, his hand left your back and helped to spread you apart for him. He watched you twitch for a moment, both holes clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled by him. If he were a kinder man, he would show mercy and shove two of his thick fingers into your pussy, but he wasn’t a kind man. He loved watching you clench and pant, sweating under the absence of him inside of you. He wanted you whimpering, begging, maybe even crying before he filled you. 

“Kiiiiishiiii baby please…” You mewled out, burying your face into a duvet, muffling the sound of your begging. 

He resumed circling his tongue from your cunt to your ass, one finger circling your clit in time, “You know better than to cover up those pretty sounds. If you want something, ask for it.” 

You huffed out, moving your head from the bedding and back to look at his face buried in you, “Please, baby please fuck me, I need it inside. I need you Kishibe, please.” 

You could feel his lips curl into a smile against your folds, little shit was enjoying this too much. He hummed, vibrations resounding inside of you, “Cum like this, and then you’ll get my cock.”

You whimpered, as good as it was you knew you needed something inside to cum, “But…Ki--”

“I’m not asking.” He slurped loudly against your pussy. 

Of course he was an expert in your body, he knew you needed the joint internal and external stimulation in order to orgasm. He knew he was setting you up to fail, he wanted you to fail. He wanted to hear you completely fucked out, on the precipice of a release that couldnt yet cum when he finally pushed himself inside of you. Further emphasizing that he wouldnt be using his fingers to fuck you, he wrapped his own hand around himself, squeezing tightly. He didn’t want to cum too soon, the way you had sucked him earlier he had nearly spoiled it right then. Any other night he wouldn't have cared and cum right in your mouth, watching you swallow him down like the good girl he had made you into. But tonight he needed to cum inside of you, he ached to feel you spasm around him and milk his dick for everything he had. He carried on eating you out, feeling his regular drunkenness give way to the intoxication pleasuring you. You whimpered under him, rocking your hips back against his ever moving tongue. 

“Kishi ...please I can't…please. Baby please.”You felt tears slipping from your eyes, you wanted to cum so bad, the bastard behind you knew exactly what he was doing.

Raising his head from your pussy, Kishsibe looked at you crying and whimpering for him. Your lips wet and puffy, mirroring the set right in front of him. 

“Oh baby…you givin’ up?” He teased, how he was able to look so smug while literally covered in your juice was beyond you

“Yes fuck I give up, please fuck me please. I need it so bad, I need to cum please.” You didn't care to hide how desperate you were, you worried you might die if he wasn't inside of you in the next few seconds. 

Kishibe gave you one last long lick end to end before straightening up, his lower back aching more than he wanted. Overcome with excitement at the prospect of finally being filled you raised your upper body onto your hands, only to be immediately pushed back down. 

“If you’re able to hold yourself up, maybe I should keep going until you can't.” Kishibe warned. 

A broken cry pushed from your throat. You couldn’t keep going, you couldn’t be held back from your release any longer. Tears flooded down your cheeks and you begged him not to, promising to be good and do whatever he wanted. He had done it, he had completely wrecked you. Leaning over you, cock brushing against your heat so deliciously, Kishibe kissed the side of your face, not stopping himself as his tongue lapped up the salty tears staining your cheeks. Big hands on your back unclasped your bra, sliding it out from under you and groping your chest. 

“There she is” His voice was so hot against your ear, rough and dripping with eroticism, “There’s my girl. And who am I?” 

“Master.”

He gave a smack to your ass, “That's right, baby. Now be good and take Master’s cock all the way. I don’t wanna hear any of that bullshit about it being too much or too big, Okay?” 

You nodded quickly, probably too many times but fuck you could barely think. Another slap to your ass brought you back to attention, “Yes, Master!” 

He hummed with pride. Aligning himself behind you once more, sliding his cock head up and down your slit. Anticipation nearly becoming too much, your whimpers increased before he mercifully slid inside of you. The combination of your natural lubrication and his spit allowed him to ease in with barely any effort, you were still so tight around him. He was so big, it felt like he was splitting you open. A gravelly moan rang out from him, coming directly from his chest as he became fully immersed in you. The force of his thrust rocked your whole body forward. One hand holding you down by the back of your neck, the other gripping your hip. You cried out his title as he pulled back nearly all the way before pushing in again. Finally you felt the white hot coil of orgasm building rapidly in your lower belly. 

“Fuck! Fuck Master, “You wailed, “Yes! I’m so close, Fuck, thank you, master!”

The hand on your neck moved to grip your hair, pulling it back harshly, forcing you to arch all the way back as he continued to bully his cock up inside of you, “You had your chance to cum, already. You’ll wait for me.” 

His voice was so husky against your ear, hair gripped tight in his grasp, you had to focus all your energy on not cumming despite how close his postponing cock was bringing you. Wrenching your head to the side Kishibe kissed you, rough and hot, swallowing down your moans before they could leave you. Your hands struggled to find somewhere to land alternating between gripping his thigh and traveling up to his neck and hair. The upright doggy position allowed him so deep inside of you, his free hand moving over your bouncing breasts and down to press on your lower stomach, feeling himself inside of you. He was so fucking cruel, you cried out, breaking the kiss, head falling back on his shoulder, eyes closed in blinding pleasure. You could still hear him grunting in your ear, his lips needed you and found their next best option, the side of your neck. Knowing exactly what he was doing he pushed harder, his other hand wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him. 

“Stop Kishi, please. It’s too much.” 

His gripped your throat tightly, “I said no fucking whining. Did I already fuck every thought out of your head or can’t you remember?” 

You strained to look at him with pleading eyes choking your words past his grip, “I-I’m sorry, Master”

His hand around your throat had made you tighten around him, he was so close, he had wanted to drag this out more. Wanted to remind you who was in charge. But he felt himself faltering, hips shuddering, balls tightening. Kishibe released your throat allowing you to catch your breath, he stopped holding you upright and you fell forward, falling exactly into your previous position: face against the mattress, hips high, ass out. His grip on your hips was bruising, tomorrow morning he would be tracing those bruises as you stood making coffee in the suite's kitchenette. But right now you were made to take his cock, he could be gentle with you another time, not now.

“Touch yourself, cum.” He commanded having to focus all his energy on keeping his thrusts deep and even. Your hand flew between your legs, circling your achingly sensitive clit. His work earlier had you already twitching. 

He thrusted deep and jagged twice more before he felt your walls tremble around him, the sound Kishibe makes when he cums was almost always uniform, a low howl that erupted from his throat as he pressed right against your cervix. You joined him in his orgasm, the pair of you singing a private duet that only you would ever hear. You could feel his hot cum filling you, your orgasm covered you like being caught in a sudden rainstorm. Drenched in pleasure, your mind existed only for thoughts of him. His lips found your shoulder, still deep inside of you, Kishibe grew softer, both his cock and his treatment. 

“Good girl,” he spoke against your sweat-dampened skin, “did so good, baby.” 

You let out a strangled sound, still barely recovered from your mind melting orgasm. Another whimper left you as he removed himself from inside of you. You stayed on your stomach, but allowed your legs to relax, now laying totally prone. Kishibe moved next to you, catching his breath and allowing the feeling to come back to his lower half. You lay together panting, allowing aftershocks of pleasure to ebb and flow over the next few moments. Turning your face to look at him, you placed a hand on his chest. He took it and pressed the back of your hand to his lips. When you had finally regained your composure, you swatted his chest lightly, truly nothing compared to his brutal treatment. 

“You’re such an asshole.” You chuckled out, you slotted yourself against his side, draping a leg over his. 

“You love when I’m mean,” he rolled his eyes, “I can feel it, so don't try to lie. You get so tight when I push you around.”

He was right, you loved it. You loved-- no. not yet. You couldn't yet say that you loved him, that would be too much. But you knew it, and even if it was just for yourself, for now that was enough. 

“So now that we’re going steady, do I have to take you to breakfast?” he absentmindedly ran his fingers through your hair, dull nails scratching your scalp making you purr. 

“ ‘Going Steady’? Jesus, you are an old man.” You teased him through blushing cheeks. 

You tried to be careful when you poked fun about his age, but you saw the small curve of his lips that let you know you were off the hook this time. He pulled you closer to him, rolling his eyes again. 

“Big talk for someone who begs to cum around this old man’s cock like it's the only words she knows.” he tapped your temple once. 

You leaned up to face him, finally ready to ask him the question that had been burning since you had first arrived in the lavish suite, “Are you really on assignment or did you rent this room yourself?” 

If you didn’t know better you’d think he was blushing. But you do know better. Kishibe rested his head against the pillow and turned his gaze from you to the ceiling, “Maybe I wanted to do something nice for you.” 

You could help smiling widely at him, you had found him out, “I knew it! You are a romantic…awe all this just to ask me to be your giiiiirlfriend?” you elongated the title to see if you really could draw the blush out of him. 

He smacked your ass hard once, “Shut up, I told you not to get used to it! You’re not getting this again if you keep talking like that.” 

You ass still stung a bit from his harsh treatment earlier, so you snuggled back into his neck, kissing underneath one of his ears. His big arms wrapped around your back. Soon you would fall asleep, he would separate from you and go to have another smoke on the patio, tomorrow morning you would wake up together and he would treat you to breakfast. He could already feel your breaths growing relaxed, sleep starting to win you over and although you couldn't see it, he was blushing. 

[spacedace]

Reluctant War AU Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

More of the brain worm that has taken me over, gonna probably post it to Ao3 here before too long. Already got another part started and so many ideas for additional stuff, someone please send help I've been consumed by this thing lol

Sorry if Waller seems out of character, outside of fandom I'm mostly familiar with her through Justice League the animated show & Justice League: Unlimited and her vibe there has always struck me as "deeply incredibly unlikable character that also kind of has a point but also has done so much fucked up shit in the name of her goals that you don't really care about her point anymore." So you know, complicated lol. If she's completely unrecognizable let me know, but I'm hoping she feels at least somewhat like Waller.

Forgot to say this in the last update, but still feel free to use all this as an overly long prompt if yall want. Literally anything I throw out to the void should be treated as a prompt lol If there's anything at all interesting to you in any of this nonsense go for it <3 <3 <3

---

Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.

Ruthless, heartless, vicious, cruel.

She’d been called it all. Wore the words thrown as insults as a badges of pride and valor. Because at the end of the day, when it came to the problems she was given to face, the issues she was meant to solve, those words meant she’d done what others had been too squeamish or cowardly to do. Life was a never ending slog of trolley problems and she the only one unshakable enough to pull the levers that needed pulling.

It wasn’t so simple as a matter of greater good.

Greater good was what the weak willed muttered to themselves after having feelings over doing the bare minimum. A justification used by people on all sides to do what they wanted with fractured, faulty logic thrown around like truth was a thing immutable. To assuage their guilt when they were forced to make a call they didn’t want to.

It wasn’t a matter of greater good. It was a matter of preservation. Of protection. Of digging through the filth to find the threats skittering beneath and crush them with ruthless abandon. Of facing a god and not blinking because if you did it could cost the world.

Of doing what needed to be done, no matter how underhanded or atrocious it was.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands wrapped tight around the throat of something that could threaten to destroy it all.

When the Ghost Investigation Ward had been shoved her way with it’s sucking wound of a budget, it’s bloated incompetent staff, its asinine methods she’d seen a rotted limb in need of hacking off. It hadn’t been until she’d been conducting her inspection, digging through the trash for a few pearls of effective agents she could snatch up and put to work elsewhere, that she’d truly seen what they were working on. The potential.

Potential to better arm themselves with in the forms of the strange new weapons being created.

Potential for threats far greater than anything even she had thought possible before.

The GIW as it had been when she’d first come across it was a fetid waste of time and resources. A laughing stock agency only secret because no one took them seriously enough to look. Made stupid and useless with its own conceited delusions of importance it didn’t actually have. Yet.

She went to work on it. Hacking away as she’d originally intended, but this time with a different goal in mind. She ripped out the weeds with bare, calloused hands and planted proficiency and loyalty in their place. She took over as director herself, tossing the self-aggrandizing fool that had been running the place into the ground to the dogs as the culprit for misappropriate spendings, saving the agency by tweaking things until their ballooning budget was pinned neatly onto the former director as an embezzling charge.

Then she got to work.

The Fentons were brilliant, if entirely insane. But Amanda could work with that. She’d reigned Harley Quinn in - more or less - she could do the same to the two deranged scientists that so eagerly wanted to be apart of the fight against the dead. Especially when the benefit came in the form of the inventions they threw together so easily, especially when those inventions were weapons.

It took very little to get them on board with her plans for the GIW. Keeping their focus could be a chore, at times, but she didn’t even have to really do much in the way of pressing to get them back where she wanted them. They craved knowledge and understanding nearly as much as they craved the eradication of the entities themselves. Letting them have the first look at a new subject here, free reign over a vivisection there, it took so little to fuel their fervor and keep them busy working on the projects she set for them.

Things had been going smoothly.

For a time at least.

Until Phantom.

He’d been the main focus of the previous director’s attention, the big fish he’d so desperately wanted to catch and put up on his wall. Amanda wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t a tempting prospect, but not one she’d put above the other projects she had set in motion since taking over. No, Phantom was powerful, enough to be a real problem one day, but she could the awkward youth in the way he held himself, the inexperience in how he handled situations. She had time to get everything else in order before focusing on getting Amity Park’s would-be hero brought to heel.

And he would be brought to heel. One way or another.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands wrapped tight around the Core of a fledgling god and bending him to her will.

An artifact, old an powerful, recovered with some effort. A means of controlling specters, of chaining them to the will of the artifact’s wielder. Dangerous in the wrong hands. Dangerous in the right hands.

It was shattered, and even whole and functional Phantom was resistant to its power. But Amanda Waller prided herself in her ability to see the potential in things. It could be repaired, be made better. Even gods could be bound, be made to kneel, with the right pieces, with the right application of force.

It was just a matter of time to gather everything needed.

Phantom didn’t know he could single handedly destroy every last member of the Justice League. The baby fat, the innocent eyes, the split-second hesitations when he fought. He knew enough to be confident in fighting the usual ghosts that haunted Amity Park, but he still very much saw himself as a little fish. Maybe it was the part of him that was still Daniel Fenton, gangly teenager not quite sure what he was truly capable of yet.

She had time before the Fenton’s son truly became an issue. Time to judge if his parents’ obsessiveness would overcome their - rather shoddy, by Amanda’s estimation - parental instincts and continue to hunt him once they knew the truth. Time to get as much out of them as she could before hand, should they falter at the idea of attacking their own son. Time for the staff to be repaired and returned to working order, to get the other items needed for the truly big fish hidden on the other side of the veil between worlds.

She had time.

Until she didn’t.

Pariah Dark had not been something she thought she’d have to account for - not yet, at least.

If he wasn’t already dead, she’d ring the Ghost King’s neck with her bare hands. His arrival had opened Phantom’s eyes to what he was capable of, of just how big of a fish he was. Worse still, Phantom’s defeat of the war mongering King changed the state of play. Phantom was no longer an impressively powerful half dead teenager.

He was King Infinite.

He was an Ancient.

He was getting on her last damn nerves.

Phantom’s rogue gallery were now firmly under the boy’s control. Still distinct nuisances around Amity Park, but no longer considered true concerns. They were loyal to their boy king, delighting in ruffling his feathers but never crossing the line into treason or attempted regicide. Which meant that the GIW was the only thing that held his attention.

Amanda took the time to send a care package to the former GIW director in his tiny, dank prison cell. As thanks for his carelessness in revealing to the entire town - both living and dead - of the agency’s existence and their intentions. Had he stuck to standard protocol, Phantom would have been none the wiser to their presence. Would have scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders at the ghost that went missing upon occasion. Would have been boredly uninterested in the people his parents had begun working with. Would have been taken by surprise when they finally came for him.

But no.

No that self-obsessed, fame chasing imbecile had to go and announce to everyone and their dead mother that the GIW existed and exactly what it was they were in Amity Park to do.

Phantom knew what they were there to do.

They could only count on his naive certainty that he could broker peace with them for so long.

Peace. As if he and his people weren’t the invading force, the monsters slipping in through the cracks between worlds, the latest threat that had to be accounted for. As if he himself hadn’t rent their world asunder himself in another world, another time. No. Peace was not something they could hash out with this baby-faced monarch with his too-big crown. Peace was the assurance of safety, security. Of control of the situation.

There could be no peace.

The higher ups were somehow surprised when Phantom took that to mean there would be war.

Amanda Waller was not.

The Fentons, as suspected, took the right side when all was revealed. Steady hands and flinty eyes as they crafted the weapons that would be needed for the coming fight. Minds even sharper in their maddened grief, hearts set on revenge for the son lost and the entity that stole his face and friends and sister in his garish pretense at humanity. They were blinded to the reality of the situation in its entirety, the potential in what their son truly was, but at the end of the day it didn’t really matter. They did what she needed them to do, they could believe whatever it was they wanted so long as they did.

By the time the boy king and his armies marched upon the Amity park facility, preparations had been put into place. The base in Amity had been stripped back to bare essentials, everything of importance moved to more secured locations.

The weapons labs.

The artifact.

The girl.

All tucked well away from the front lines where Phantom and his motley crew could not reach. Their time to be put in play would come, but not yet. First she needed to gauge what Phantom and his people were capable of, what they were willing to do in the name of what they wanted. Amity Park was a pawn well sacrificed on that front. As were the other facilities she’d left easy to find.

The problem with making children gods, with giving them crowns and calling them King and giving them armies to play with, was that they thought there should be rules. That even in the trenches tearing apart their enemies, there was a certain level of playing fair that everyone was held to. They thought there was a way the world worked, of how things should be that blinded them to more effective options even as time stretched on and desperation set in.

It was the Dead’s problem though, not hers.

She reached out to the Justice League. Sour faced, unhappy, bitterly reluctant to accept that she needed their help. Stone faced and barely containing their rage at what little they knew of the situation, they agreed to a meeting.

She didn’t let herself smile until she was well and truly alone in her office.

Greater good. A lie people told themselves. A fairytale told to children. A means of convincing the weaker willed that they had no choice, that they had a noble duty to bend to. A belief that could be wielded like a weapon if the fantasy of the idea had dug in deep enough. And there were few it had dug into so deep as the members of the Justice League.

Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands clenched tight on a victory long in the making.

---

Part Four

[covetyou]

low hanging fruit

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo & gn!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: cock and balls and assholes (Dieter's), brief mention of waxing male genitalia, the word "perineum", allusion to past relations between Dieter and PA. word count: 1.9k summary: Dieter Bravo really wants a smoothie. What you want is for Dieter Bravo to put some fucking clothes on.

A/N: you have some thots and shenanigans in @dieterbravobrainrotclub to thank for this one. I cannot remember who first mentioned the assless chaps but here it is lads. here it is. (edit: I am reliably informed it was @bitchwitch1981 I hope you're proud of me bb)

Not for the first time in your employment for Dieter Bravo, you choke on your coffee, spitting the hot liquid down your chin as you round the corner into his kitchen.

"Dee!"

But, for once, he's not actually doing anything unusual. What he's doing is perfectly normal. Dieter Bravo is hinged at the waist, bending low with his head buried in a kitchen cabinet as he reaches for some old gadget he stashed there too long ago to really care about it. Normal.

No. This time, what Dieter is wearing is the thing that has you beating at your chest as you hack and cough up the droplets of coffee you inhaled in your shock.

He's topless - no surprises there - his tan, freckled shoulders shifting as he reaches and tries to balance himself with a hand pressing all his weight into the counter top.

His legs are covered in denim - a little unusual for a man who prefers a cool breeze running through his leg hair at all times, but not in any way shocking. Except, they're not pants. Not normal pants. Why would they be, this is Dieter fucking Bravo.

They're assless chaps.

And he's wearing nothing underneath.

The sight of Dieter Bravo's bare cock and balls dangling between his legs was the very first sight you took of him, mid-morning on a fucking Tuesday, and it damn near sent you into cardiac arrest. And he's shameless about it too, bending low, squatting a little with his legs as he rummages around, showing you absolutely everything he has to offer and not batting a single eye at the fact that you're stood there, right behind him, seeing it all.

Once the burn and rasp of liquid in your esophagus has eased off, you can finally take a few clear breaths. Ignoring the stain on your shirt - scalding coffee now rapidly cooling as it seeps further and further into the fibers of the formerly white fabric - you place what's left of your coffee down on the counter, slapping the mail you had tucked under your arm next to it, and hold on with both hands. What the fuck.

"Dieter, what the fuck."

"Oh, hey sweet cheeks," he shouts back to you, dangling his head between his legs so you have to look beyond the sway of his cock and balls to make eye contact with him. "You've got something on your shirt."

If not for the assless chaps, and the persistent view of Dieter Bravo's perineum, you would be rolling your eyes and stalking off to continue your day, letting him know you'd be throwing your shirt in with his dry cleaning for him to foot the bill as you turned your back on him. But you don't. You're dumb struck and speechless, stood stock still as you stare and repeat the same few words you've already said.

"What... the fuck?"

"I did put that smoothie thing in here, didn't I?" he asks in return, sticking his head back into the cabinet, and squatting even lower. The blood in your body has gone to your face. You can feel the heat of it as it floods your cheeks and rushes through your ears. You can feel it elsewhere too, superheating your body from inside out, burning you up as something stirs between your legs and in the pit of your stomach that you'd rather ignore. You try to tell yourself you've seen it all before, because you have. You've seen every inch of Dieter Bravo in a million different situations, most of which you wish you'd never seen at all, and some you wish you could see again, and again, and again...

Still, all you can do is stare at him. The curve of his spine and the soft globes of his ass cheeks framed by dark denim that climbs up his hips. That soft smattering of hair down his crack and across his balls, hair that you know he once had waxed off because you'd found him crying on the deck afterwards and he had shown you right there out in the sun.

"Have you seen it?"

You've certainly seen some things, you think. You're looking at something right now.

"Seen what..." you mumble, mustering the strength to tear your eyes away from him just as he rises with a groan, resting his hands on the belt at his hips with a frown. The last thing you want is to get caught staring - it'd do nothing but add to the ever growing list of things he'd never let you live down.

"The fucking smoothie thing."

"You have a blender, Dee. It does the same thing."

"It does?"

Pushing your thumbs into your eyes until sparks bloom behind you lids doesn't even make the image of him go away, bent over or stood upright as he is right now, so you release with a sigh and let your vision sparkle back to life.

"Yes. Now, what the fuck, Dee?"

"Fine, I'm an idiot, a blender can do the same shit as the smoothie thing I-"

"No, I mean what the fuck are you wearing?"

He stops, brain rebooting, flapping hands stopping midair and the frown falling from his face, before his eyes positively illuminate and he grins wolfishly at you.

"Do you like them?" he says looking down at himself. His cock is still out, hanging limply between his legs, the waistband around his waist and the fabric covering his legs doing nothing to give him any kind of modesty. In fact, it's doing the opposite, functioning more as a picture frame to highlight the appendage than to cover anything. "Took them from that movie I shot back in September, you remember that western? Found them again this morning."

"That's great, Dee, but I really don't think you're meant to wear them like tha-"

Dieter pads toward you, his feet soft on the kitchen tile, his usual socks and crocs combo ignored for the day, likely with the excitement of finding his new favorite item of clothing.

"It's like I'm covered, but free, y'know?" he explains, wafting his hands around again as if it'll churn the thoughts in the air for you to latch on and understand a little easier. And you do understand. Sort of. You love nothing more than lounging around in your apartment in nothing but your underwear - there is not joy greater than taking off shoes that pinch, or pants that are too tight after a big meal, or -

"And I can just see and touch my dick whenever I want. Do you know how amazing it is to use the bathroom like this?"

There he is. There's the Dieter Bravo you know and love - though you'd never tell him that. Sometimes one to think with his dick, but most often one to think of his dick.

"Dieter, that sounds great, I'm really happy for you, but -"

"Oh, wait!" he says again, before zipping back around to the cabinet and bending into a another low crouch. "Where is it..."

"Dee," you say, deadpan and monotonous as he rifles through the cabinet again. Whether Dieter chooses not to hear you, or he can't hear you over the chaotic whirl of his thoughts, you're not quite sure, but it doesn't matter because he bounces into a crouch your mind short circuits again. And when he raises his ass back in the air, you curse his new found love of yoga and his increased flexibility.

You don't know whether to laugh or throw yourself onto the floor with the spilled coffee, but when he clears his throat, head still in the cabinet, you swear it fucking winks at you and you can't handle it any more.

"Dieter, I can see your asshole."

Still bent over, Dieter stills. Of course, his asshole, cock, and balls are still bare for you to see, but at least now he's stopped waving the fucking things around. And then he's rising, twisting to look at you with a curious look on his face as if he's picking his next words very carefully. If years in Dieter Bravo's service has taught you anything, it's that you divert and distract him in these moments before he can jump to the strangest of conclusions.

"Just tell me the housekeeper hasn't seen your asshole too, Dee."

"Which one?"

"Dieter!"

"They were gone before I even got down here -"

"Dieter, you have to promise me right now that you won't wear those around the housekeeper. Or the gardener. Any of them. And if you do, you better be wearing underwear-"

"Why would I wear underwear with these -"

"You promise me. I'm serious, Dee, you don't need an indecent exposure or sexual harassment lawsuit on your hands. I don't need that on my hands."

You try to keep eye contact with him - something neither you or he particularly liked, but focusing on his face and his fluffy head of hair was the only thing keeping your eyes from wandering down to the perfectly framed picture of his dick. It's a battle of wills now. You know this, and so does Dieter. It's the reason why you'd manage to last so long as his assistant where others had failed. Dieter Bravo was a stubborn and persistent man, but you had him beat on both fronts. You occasionally gave in, to keep him sweet, but mostly you lived with him being grumpy with you until he moved on or you did something so incredible that he didn't care any more.

"Dieter..." you say once more, and you can see the cogs in his brain slowly click through until everything slots into place.

"Fine. I promise."

Letting out the breath you didn't know you were holding, you try to hold your gaze steady, and up, anywhere but down his bare chest - his fucking bare chest - to undoubtedly linger too long between his legs. You hope he doesn't see when you swallow thickly, muttering good with a small nod just as you pick up his mail and what's left of your coffee. If you turn quick enough you can probably get away with not seeing his dick again today.

"What about you," he calls to you just as you're about to make your maneuver. "Do I need to cover up in front of you? If I do that's not fair, you're here all the time, and you've seen it all before, you've even -"

"No." Fuck.

The word is out of your mouth before you even really think. It was a compulsion; your hind brain activating in a moment of desperation and giving you what you really wanted, and you could kick yourself. This is definitely going on the list, you just know it. Along with the ripped pants incident, that time you got far too drunk and ended up leaving a party with the model Dieter had his eye on all night, and whatever was going on with you two before you decided to - well. It was all on this list, and now it was going to be joined by this.

"No?"

"No, you don't need to cover up in front of me."

"Really? Amazing."

He's grinning. You don't even need to look at him to know he's grinning. You can hear the delight in his voice, borderline laughter in his chest as he scrubs a hand across his belly. You can't look anymore. You shouldn't look any more. "I'm gonna go sort this out."

"Because I know how much you like looking at my -"

"Shut up, Dieter."

And so it begins. Dieter bbs: @secretelephanttattoo @sp00kymulderr @schnarfer @freelancearsonist @fhatbhabie @chronically-ghosted

[jeankluv]

Birdie - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 16

words: 4k

summary: While everyone adored him, you stood apart in your feelings. It wouldn't be accurate to say you hated him, as " hate " was a strong word, rather, you harbored a profound dislike towards him. The problem was he knew that and his irritating presence seemed to persistently cling to you whenever he crossed your paths.

Now, you found yourself paired with him for your semester project, and the thought made you wish to hurl yourself out of the third-floor window. Three months of working alongside him loomed ahead. Adding to the discomfort, you were currently under the scrutiny of hundreds of eyes, each gaze feeling like a murder attempt. It seemed everyone coveted the opportunity to collaborate with Gojo Satoru, except for you.

ac: _a3aem

tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball, Gojo needs a hug

notes: this chapter will be focus on Birdie, there won’t be much Gojo & Birdie (sorry) I hope you enjoy it.

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist | ao3

materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

You looked in the mirror and bit your lip. That dress wasn't appropriate either, in fact none of the dresses she owned were appropriate for a charity gala full of rich people.

“Not this one either.” You sighed, taking off your suspenders.

“I think it’s good.” Kyoko said from your bed, as she took a sip of her coffee.

“Kyoko, I can't appear at a charity gala, full of rich people and knowing that Satoru's parents and grandparents are there with an openness that reaches me here.” You pointed to your hip.

“You would attract attention, that's for sure.” You rolled your eyes and took off your dress completely.

“Ugh, this is so stressful.” You threw yourself to the bed. “The gala is in two days, I don’t have anything.”

“Why did you accept?” You looked at Kyoko. “That sounded a bit rude, but what I meant was that, you always hated fancy places and I was surprised when you told me you were going.”

“I want to support Satoru.” You sat down and took the shirt that was on the floor. “This is important for him and… I want to be there for him.”

“Oh…” Kyoko smiled. “Aren’t you the cutest?” She pinched your cheeks. “But why don’t you talk with Sato…”

“No, I’m not asking him to buy something for the gala. I don’t want that.” You sighed.

“Okay, okay.” And she smiled. “Wait, I might know some who might be able to help you.”

“Who?” You looked at her.

“Shoko’s girlfriend.” She smiled and started texting on her phone.

“Shoko has a girlfriend?” You said surprised.

“Sometimes it surprises me how clueless you are, she told us, at the club, remember? We were in the couches with her and Yuki.” She said looking at you through her eyelashes and then a smile spread across her face.

You opened your mouth in a shaped O and remembered that moment. “Oh yeah I was probably elsewhere.”

You for sure where somewhere else, distracted watching Satoru as he talked with that girl, that later you found out her name was MeiMei.

“Shoko told me to go to her apartment after you finish your work, Utahime will help you.”

“Kyoko, I don't know if…”

“Let yourself be pampered and take care of yourself a little.” You looked down and sighed. “You're going to leave Satoru speechless at that gala.”

You hoped so, but you also hoped that eyes wouldn't land on you. You didn't want to have to endure an awkward question session all night. But you knew that if Satoru was with you that wouldn't happen.

You and Kyoko got ready to go to class, that day you only had one class and unfortunately for you, it wasn't with Satoru. It was hard to believe, before you avoided Satoru Gojo like the plague and now you longed to spend even a few minutes with him.

But that day was not going to be like that and you would have to limit yourself to calls and messages. Satoru was busy with his basketball practices and you were busy at work.

You and Kyoko got ready for class, gathered your materials and left together. You only had one class today and unfortunately for you, it wasn't with Satoru. It was hard to believe how much everything had changed in just a few months, before you avoided Satoru Gojo like the plague, but now you longed to spend even a few minutes with him. But that day was not going to be like that and you would have to limit yourself to calls and messages.

The walk to class felt longer than usual. Your thoughts drifted to Satoru, imagining his smile, his teasing words, and the warmth of his presence. The more you thought about him, the more you missed him, and it seemed like Kyoko noticed your distraction.

"It looks like you're going to be punished." Kyoko leaned towards you, a knowing smile on his lips.

You sighed, trying to push away the longing. "It's just that today Satoru and I won't see each other."

Kyoko laughed softly. "You sound like a puppy in love."

"Maybe I am." You admitted, laughing. “But I can’t help it.”

“Who would have thought I would see you so cloying and romantic.” Kyoko laughs leaving the subway.

You shrugged and didn't think much of it. Maybe if it was true that you were different from your usual way of being, it used to be difficult for you to show your feelings, but now with Satoru it was easy for you and it was something you wanted to do, you wanted to feel the serotonin in your body, the beating of your heart and the blood. of your body to rest on your cheeks.

Maybe you had changed or maybe that part of you had always been there and now your relationship with Satoru had brought it out. But one way or another, what mattered to you was that you liked that new version of yourself that was being drawn, and you wanted it to grow and open up more.

No matter how hard you tried all morning, your thoughts were not completely on the class and from time to time they wandered and you ended up thinking about Satoru. You wanted to ask Kyoko if she had felt that way when she started dating Suguru but it seemed like a silly question to you, so you kept it to yourself.

With the day's classes already finished you went with Kyoko to eat in the cafeteria, that day you would eat there instead of at work. Like most times, the cafeteria was packed, but luckily you managed to seat us at a table.

“Kyoko about the dress…”

“You need to relax.” She said. “Utahime is really nice and she is willing to help you. She is also excited to meet the girl that is willing to date Satoru.” You looked at her confused. “They have a friendly beef.” You nodded. “But don’t be jealous.”

You gasped offended. “I’m not that type!”

“Sure…” She smirked. “You want to remember that time when you saw a girl with Satoru and you came here all angry?”

“I… that’s not.”

It was then when Kyoko's smile became bigger and you look at her with a strange expression on your face. When you were about to ask her about that expression on her face, you felt a hand land under your chin and lift it, causing your head to look up. But that's when you met it, the one that turned into your favorite color. Those blue eyes smiled at you from above.

“Sato…” You were unable to finish the sentence, Satoru had brought your lips together in a kiss.

You enjoyed the kiss forgetting completely about the fact that you were in the cafeteria and that with that kiss everyone was finding out about the both of you. Satoru separated from you and through your eyelashes you saw the smile that appeared on his lips.

“I needed to see you…” He whispered against your lips. “Even if it was just for 5 minutes.”

You looked down, embarrassed by his words. “Satoru…”

“What?” He sat down next to you. “Can’t I say I missed my girlfriend and I needed to see her so badly?”

You bite your lip and shyly smiled. “Stop…”

“No way…” He whispered and kissed your cheek.

“Is it true you only have five minutes?” You looked at him.

He nodded. “As soon as Coach Yaga told us that training was over, I rushed out here.” You looked him up and down and knew he read your mind. “I took a shower.” Then he turned to look at Kyoko. “Hi Kyoko, Suguru will be here later.”

“Yeah I know, we are going out later.” She smiled.

“So you have to leave?” You tilted your head.

“Yeah I have a class now.” He pouted. “I will see you after work.”

“Sorry.” Kyoko spoke before you could say anything to Satoru. “But your girlfriend will have girls night today.”

“Oh.” He opened his mouth surprised.

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” You told him.

Satoru shook his head, not giving a lot of importance to it. “Don’t worry.” He got closer to you. “This weekend and the next one will be full for just us.”

“I will talk to Haibara today, to change our shifts this Saturday.”

Satoru smiled. “Okay.” He kissed your lips and stood back up. “I have to leave.” He looked at you one more time. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” You smiled and waved goodbye at him.

You watched as Satoru walked between the tables of the cafeteria and how he said hello to people there. It was a remark of his popularity, after all he was the star of the basketball team and now your boyfriend. Which had caused the people around you to start gossiping.

You knew that moment would come sooner or later, after all people liked to talk and gossip, and it was a gossip about Satoru Gojo, obviously they were going to talk. You didn't care, you had never cared what they said about you. At least not until Satoru told you that you shouldn't take it so lightly when people who didn't know you spoke badly about you.

“Do you think she is with him because of his family money?” A person behind you spoke.

“No idea.” Another one spoke. “The Gojo clan is really powerful and has a lot of money.”

“Yeah… but I heard that Satoru Gojo is a bit of a player.” Another voice spoke and your blood started to run faster. “I heard he even hooked up with a teacher.”

You hit the table hard and turned to look at those people who had such long tongues. “Don't you think you are polluting this public space too much with all the dead cells that you are expelling through your mouth?” The three of them looked at you in surprise and you could hear Kyoko calling you. “If you don't know how to say anything but lies to satisfy your boredom, you'd better keep them damn closed.” You glared at them.

You felt eyes fall on you as you became the center of unwanted attention. Whispers of amusement and surprise ran through the cafeteria, but you didn't care. You were tired of the gossip and unfounded rumors, and it was about time someone reported them.

One of the three, a girl with a surprised expression, opened her mouth as if to retaliate, but no words came out. She exchanged a look with the other two and they all stood up, clearly nervous, before hastily leaving the table. You watched them leave, a feeling of satisfaction bubbling within you.

Kyoko, eyes wide with a mixture of admiration and disbelief expeto. "Wow, that was... something." She gasped.

You took a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline rush through your veins. “I didn't want to keep listening to them talk bad about Satoru.” You sentenced.

Kyoko smiled at you. “You care about him.”

You looked at her. “Of course I do, he is my boyfriend and I’m defending him.” You said. “The same way he did with me.”

Kyoko laughed. “You are both so cute. I could die.”

“Geez Kyoko stop!” You covered your face.

“Oh but you two are adorable.” She said. “But anyway, what I was telling you earlier, before your cute little boyfriend came, I will go for you after your shift and we will go together to Utahime’s apartment, Shoko will already be there.”

“Kyoko, I… I still don’t know.” You hesitated. “Isn’t this too much?”

She shook her head. “No.” She said firmly. “Please let us pamper you a little.”

“I think you do that more than enough.” You replied.

“Because we love you.” She said and you felt how the words sank on your chest.

You looked down. “Thank you.” Looking back at her, you smiled. “I need to leave.”

“Did you just get emotional?” She said in a silly tone.

“No I didn’t.” You obviously did. “Look, your boyfriend is coming.” You said pointing at Suguru who was coming your way.

“Oh.” She smiled warmly. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He approached her and kissed her cheek.

“Well, now you two are together, I will leave for work.” You stood back up.

“I will be waiting for you to go to Utahime’s apartment.” Kyoko shouted from the table.

As you walked across campus, heading to the bus stop to go to work, you couldn't help but look at the windows of your faculty building. You were looking for white hair that would always stand out from the crowd. When you finally saw him, your heart skipped a beat and a smile spread across your face.

You took out your phone and this time you were the one who wrote a message to Satoru.

You to Satoru ✨

Hey, I see you

Guess who is watching you from the outside this time?

You pressed send and watched as he checked his phone. You saw the familiar smile appear on his face as he read your message. Within moments, his phone vibrated with his response.

Satoru ✨

Oh look who is the stalker now 😂

If I open the window, we could be like Romeo and Juliet.

You chuckled and typed quickly knowing that Satoru didn’t know what shame meant and he was probably able to do it.

You to Satoru ✨

Please don’t

I need to leave, I will see you 💋

You looked back up and saw how he turned his face from the phone and sent you a flying kiss. You looked in both directions, embarrassed. You really needed to get used to Satoru’s extrovert self.

With a blushing but happy smile, you waved your hand goodbye to him. You turned on your heel and walked towards the bus to go to work. The tour was once again the usual one, with the music from your playlist playing in your headphones and your mind wandering between the night that awaited you and the charity gala where you would accompany Satoru.

In what seemed like a sigh you arrived at your work, finding yourself surprised that Haibara was not there.

“Oh!” A younger girl greeted you by name and you looked at her strangely. “Sorry I didn't introduce myself, I'm Mina, Yu's little sister.”

You opened your eyes surprised. “Oh Haibara has told me a lot about you.”

She laughed softly. "Oh really? I hope for good things.”

You nodded. “And Haibara?”

“He is sick, last night he stayed up all night playing video games and today he had a headache.”

You nodded. “Have you been here all morning?”

“No, my grandmother was here and I'm came after class.” She smiled.

You bit your lip thoughtfully, you should talk to Haibara as soon as possible, to ask her for the schedule change for Saturday.

“Is there a problem?” She took you out of your thoughts.

“Oh… I just needed to talk to Haibara to change our shifts for this Saturday.”

“I will call him.” She took her phone out.

“No, don't worry.” She shook her head and called her brother.

“Yu!! Yeah I’m here with…” Mina started talking with his brother.

The scene reminded you of that time when Haibara also called her grandmother so you could go to the basketball game. In fact, the energy of Haibara and her sister were similar, both seemed to have explosive energy and an outgoing personality, capable of spreading it to those around them.

“Yu told me that there is no problem.” Mina granted you a warm smile.

“Thank you so much Mina.” You thanked her.

“Oh please don’t thank me.” She shook her head. “My family is really happy with how you work and how nice you are, so it’s the least we could do.” She turned to look at the clock on the wall and then back to you. “I have to leave. It was nice meeting you.”

You farewelled her and you started working as you normally did, clients came and went. And you put on your best smile and were as kind as possible with everyone. By the time you realized it, the sun had set on the horizon and the streets of that neighborhood were illuminated by bright streetlights.

Your face lit up when the store bell rang and Kyoko entered through the door with a smile. And came to the counter.

“Hello.” She wildly smiled.

“Hi.” You said back with a smile also drawn on your face. “I need to change and we can go.”

“Perfect!” She smiled. “By the way, next weekend you told me you are planning on taking Satoru to Kamakura, right?” Kyoko followed you to the changing room.

You didn’t mind her being there. “Yeah, I want him to know where I was raised and everything.” Kyoko nodded but you could tell something was bothering her mind. “Spilled out Kyoko.”

Kyoko sighed and finally spoke about what was going on in her mind. “It’s just that I’m worried about you.” You looked at her with a wondering look. “When we went there last year, remember who we met right?”

You bite your lip remembering last summer when you, as you wanted to do now, wanted to show Kyoko your hometown, the landscapes with the flowers blooming, the people there, the temples, the train that passes by the coast and allows you to see the sea. But in one snap got ruined.

“Nothing will happen.” You smiled at her. “Satoru will be with me, it’s okay.” Kyoko twisted her lips and nodded, not very sure of that smile you were giving her.

“Utahime apartment is a bit far.” Kyoko mentioned that you were putting your shoes on. “We could take a taxi.” She suggested.

“It’s fine by me.” You stood up.

Making sure that everything was neat, turned off and in order, you closed the store and together with Kyoko you walked to the main street to get a taxi. During the trip they both had a pleasant conversation from time to time, diverting to talk about their boyfriends. You couldn't help but laugh like schoolgirls when talking about them, you were really at a point where you both felt capable of anything, not only because you were in love but because you felt full and happy with yourself.

When the taxi stopped at your destination, you got out of the car and your body almost froze when you saw the residential neighborhood where you were. Utahime's family, like Satoru's, must have had money, but it was not surprising, Kyoko had mentioned to you that Utahime would also attend the charity gala, so you assumed that her family must have a high economic status.

The speed of the elevator as you went up to one of the elevated floors made your stomach turn slightly and you had to close your eyes to make it go away. Kyoko walked determinedly almost as if she knew where to walk, while she held your hand, giving you a security that you didn't know you needed.

She stood in front of one and rang the bell, a few seconds later the door opened, showing a beautiful girl with dark hair with bangs, big brown eyes and what looked like a scar on her face. She looked at you and a wide smile spread across her face.

“So you are the girl that had Satoru Gojo down on his knees?” A girl with black hair and a scar crossing her face, smiled at you. You guessed that it was Utahime, based on the description Kyoko gave you earlier.

“Yeah, that’s probably me but I think that’s a bit exaggerated.” You chuckled.

“Oh believe Uta, he is down on your knees for you.” Shoko appeared behind Utahime.

“It’s good to meet you Utahime and to see you again Shoko.” You greeted both of them.

Utahime smiled at you wildly and welcomed you to her apartment. “You are also going to that gala right?”

“Yeah.” You looked around the room and saw how her apartment was decorated elegantly, with a cozy style that welcomed you. “I'm going as Satoru's plus one.” You smiled, looking back at Utahime.

“That’s good. I will be there too.” She smiled. “So if you need a break from the Gojo clan or the old boring people, I will be there.” She winked.

Those words gave you a comforting relief that you had been trying to ignore since you had accepted or rather told Satoru that you would go with him to the gala. The idea of ​​meeting the Gojo clan overwhelmed you, you knew the clan, who in Japan did not know? And introducing yourself to them made your legs tremble as if they were jelly. But you didn't want to cower, you wanted to present yourself in that place as the confident person you were and you weren't going to lower your gaze.

“That makes me feel more relax.”

“Now.” She clapped her hands with a smile. “Take a seat.” She told Kyoko and Shoko, for them to look at you. “And you.” She pointed at you. “Come with me.” She grabbed your hand and guided you to what you guessed was her bedroom.

It was big, bigger than your whole living room and kitchen combined. It wasn’t surprising, she was going to the same gala as the Gojo clan, so probably her family had the money.

“So…” Utahime turned to look at you. “I have some ideas in mind, I think there are a couple of dresses that could make you look spectacular. But is there something you want?”

“I just don’t want to stand out too much.” You mentioned.

Utahime shook her head and smirked. “Unfortunately that will be impossible.” You looked at her. “First of all, you are stunningly beautiful, everyone would be looking at you and secondly, you are going as Satoru Gojo’s plus one, everyone will be laying their eyes on you.”

You swallowed and took a deep breath, Utahime noticing your distress sat down next to you and held your hand searching to calm down.

“It’s okay.” She smiled. “I know it will be a lot for you but…” She sighed. “I know how he is and I’m sure, like 200% sure he will make sure you are completely comfortable.”

You smiled, feeling a bit more relaxed after hearing her comforting words. “Thank you Utahime.” She shook her head, resting importance to the matter. “And yeah… I have an idea of what I would like to wear.” You slightly smiled.

“Tell me.” She said with her eyes shining with excitement.

“I would like to wear blue.”

“Blue?” She thought. “Okay, but why that colour?”

With a shy smile you said. “I want it to match Satoru’s eyes.”

Utahime smiled widely. “God, not only is Satoru at your feet, you're also fucked by him.”

You shrugged your shoulders. "I guess so."

She stood up and smiled at you. “I think…” She walked to her wardrobe. “I have the perfect dress for you.”

Utahime disappeared from your sight and you let out the air accumulated in your chest. Even though Utahime's words had been comforting and relieving, the knot that was forming in your stomach was there. You told yourself that you were doing it for Satoru, that as his partner and knowing his situation with his parents, you wanted to support him, like he did.

But you also wanted to prove to everyone present that even if you didn't come from one of those gold-plated families, you were worthy of them there, to hold your head high and walk at the same pace as Satoru Gojo.

“Here.” You heard Utahime’s voice and turned to look at her.

Your eyes and mouth opened slightly and you felt your heart stop beating momentarily. Utahime was holding a beautiful dress that was capable of taking your breath away just by looking at it.

“Utahime.” You swallowed, trying to find the words. “I don’t think I can wear that dress.”

“Yes you can.” She approached you. “I designed this dress and made it but never found anyone that could give it justice, but now, I know you can.” She looked at you with shiny eyes. “I know you will look absolutely beautiful in it.”

Your heart raced, imagining yourself in that dress that looked so delicate and beautiful before your eyes.

final note: finally I made Utahime and Birdie meet, I really wanted them to meet 🤗

— comment if you want to be tagged

🏷️:@lavender-hvze , @crybabytoru , @sanriosatoru , @norvacaine , @sadmonke , @faetoraa , @hexipessimistic , @gojoful , @kitzusune , @sh0jun , @manyno , @ropickle , @anniegojo , @milk3evee , @crunchypotatoooooooooo , @catobsessedlady , @zoeyflower , @starlostwish , @tinydonkeysforlife , @mimisq11341 , @n1vi , @olanii1019 , @vtrulvamp

[myfandomrealitea]

That post you made about Harry Potter and how to not financially support and fund the franchise and put more money in Joanne's pockets felt like a lie because I swear I got the impression that even that wasn't allowed when the whole thing started

To be clear; I stopped. Completely. I compartmentalized it all and just stopped interacting with anything Harry Potter online whatsoever. But I always wished it would be fine to still be able to do certain fandom things without supporting her, but people were saying that even using the tag or reading the fanfiction or making fanart was still supporting the ip and not letting it die completely as a topic on the internet was indirectly putting money in her pockets.

It wasn't until I came across a post from a queer woman from somewhere in the global south with heavy OCD and intrusive thoughts or something like that, commenting on how hostile of a thing it became for someone of her affliction; the way people were treating it like do or die. Pointing out that no matter how much trans people and allys cut off their support of her, she has other large means of income that we won't be able to touch, and there will still always be transphobic homophobic Harry Potter fans that will continue to support her actively, putting that money in her pockets. Another thing she mentioned was the treatment of Harry Potter and Joannes bigotry in contrast to the treatment of FNAF and the creators bigotry. And lastly something about the USAmericanized nature of it? I don't really remember that part but I think I understood it at the time I read it (maybe it was something about all the other countries the IP is popular in who are probably more conservative and unaware or caring of the issues with her who will still put money in her pockets, or maybe it was something about American fans fixating and posing the support of her as the ultimate battlefield of Trans Rights to other queer and trans individuals trying to be quiet fans who are facing Much Worse in their countries)

Anyways after that I briefly started reading ao3 fanfic again, just put a filter for anything before 2019 or so, and then my interest more gently fizzled out.

I can't remember what my point is anymore, maybe just to bring these arguments to your attention(also I am not arguing against the financial boycott or ending of support for this woman through her ip).

Harry Potter will never stop earning money. That's just the flat reality of it; I mean, look at the likes of Elvis and the original Sherlock Holmes books and every other 'dead' media that's still earning money. Short of making Harry Potter an illegal piece of media, yes, there will still always be a number of people giving her money.

The goal is to give her less money. To turn Harry Potter from a prominent, profitable cashcow into a defunct piece of media that only select groups are still clinging to. To make it so that JK Rowling has to choose between paying her bills and funding anti-trans movements.

When something stops bringing in a certain amount of profit, studios start looking elsewhere. When a cashcow starts drying up, they stop trying to milk it as hard. Which in turn means less productions for JK Rowling to collect her pocketmoney from.

What would you rather; JK Rowling getting $100,000 or JK Rowling only getting $10,000?

Something is better than nothing. Damage reduction is better than open exposure. If everyone just rolled over and gave up because "things will keep happening anyway" the world will literally be a rancid, fetid wasteland of bigotry and violence.

I'd much rather watch JK Rowling fizzle out into a bitter old wench sustained only by the dogged support of other stubborn bigots than watch people willingly disregard and condone bigotry because its "easier" and "she'll be a bigot anyway."

I'd much rather JK Rowling only have $10,000 to donate to shitty movements over $72,000. Shitty movements can do a lot less with a lot less money.

[feiandart]

Anthony moves with inertia and reaches the terrace. He decides not to think, drowning everything in the verdant lust of the plants, and concentrates on what he does best: growing something real, healthy and wonderful. Something that acquires substance without promises, words or lies, but only with water, care and a lot of attention. Kneeling among dozens of pots of all shapes, colours and sizes, he touches thin and thick, large or tiny leaves, and with a small shear in his hands he removes the bad spots, the dry branches, the small unwanted shoots that risk choking roots and trunks, preventing his creatures from growing in the best way. He does not insult them, because he does not want to spill the residue of his anger onto them, and because perhaps in life one achieves more with love than with violence. And he has so much of it in his heart that he needs to let it flow elsewhere. He lets his fingertips devote playful caresses and strokes to those small, slender brown trunks and their beautiful, green leaves. He moves the pots, reassigning each plant to a better position and whispers to each one: "grow better". But he does so with gentleness and the effort of a smile on his lips. Then, when his eyes inevitably fall on the almond tree shrub standing proudly a short distance away, Anthony stands still and hears in the back of his mind the sweetest voice of all, an indication he had forgotten. You'll have to replant it in a few weeks. They told me that it grows fast at this stage.

(Dunno why AO3 preview is not working, but if you click on it it will still lead you to the chapter!)

You don't have an AO3 account? You can access the whole story from here! It's a Google Drive folder I made on purpose for anyone who might want to read it even after I had to lock my story to protect it from AI. ♥

[olderthannetfic]

"People worried about ao3 must be privileged to have no other worries right now" is…a very, very, very bad-faith assumption. First of all, if it annoys you when people lambast anyone that dares donate their money to ao3 instead of social issues, you ought to see why it might annoy people when you lambast them for being concerned about ao3 "instead of" social issues, particularly because money is a limited resource, and when it comes to donations it ACTUALLY IS "this $20 is going to ao3 INSTEAD OF my local homeless shelter" (even if you also donate $20 to your local homeless shelter, you COULD'VE donated $40 and didn't, which is fair and fine, but point is, money is a limited resource) and concern is NOT a limited resource. It's not "you're worried about ao3 INSTEAD OF queer people and people of color and women." I'm sure a lot of them ARE worried about queer people and people of color and women! They just want the opinion of The Fanfiction Blog about whether ao3 will be affected! Which leads me to my next point: second of all, y'all, this is the fanfiction blog, about fanfiction, where we discuss fanfiction. You know, the fanfiction blog? It's become a forum for every topic under the sun, but it remains, at its core, a fanfiction blog, about fanfiction, where we discuss fanfiction. Someone worried about whether ao3 will be affected doesn't need to add on "oh, and also, here's all the other issues I'm worried about right now." There's a chance they've sent a separate anon about that. Because most of us are on anon, and you can't assume you know whether someone is affected by more "legitimate issues," or even assume they've never mentioned more "legitimate issues" ON THIS BLOG before, from one anon. And even if they haven't...it might be because this is the fanfiction blog, where we discuss fanfiction. Doesn't mean they're not engaging in discussions about more "legitimate issues" elsewhere. And lastly, censorship remains a social issue. It cannot be cleanly separated from other social issues, particularly queer issues. The fact it's unlikely the new administration can touch ao3, or even cares enough to attempt it at all, doesn't mean it's dumb or privileged to be worried about ao3. Antis have used the "you're not being oppressed for your smut" line in response to our criticisms of censorship before. & I'm also just sort of tired by "don't worry about whether the new administration will do XYZ, that's illegal." It's like telling someone "don't worry about being robbed, that's illegal." I know we're attempting to mitigate fatalism and that's fair and good, but even if the new administration doesn't come for ao3 in particular, we might have to contend with increasingly bold attempts to censor and even criminalise sexual expression, and expression considered sexual (ie queer expression). It's a leap to say "THEY'RE GOING TO COME FOR AO3, A FANFICTION SITE MOST OF THEM DON'T EVEN KNOW EXISTS," but I can definitely sympathise with the worry behind that leap. A lot of us are panicked right now, and panic famously doesn't encourage rational thought. Apologies for the wall of text, I'm not capable of being terse. I need to emphasise about THE FANFICTION BLOG, dammit!

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Why does no one send me knitting questions?