#Maybe that's too naive of me but I thought people would be kind to a person they had watched and loved

[future-dregs]

Unspeakably disappointed to hear that Dan is catching it for the catboy photos. They were silly and fun! (and a little bit sexy) And after all the hell that he's received over the years, I thought people would be better than this.

[jojikawa]

Beauty and the Beast

An event where you are a woman in the 50s trying to turn the head of your neighbor, Francis Mosses when you are stalked and pursued by his evil counterpart.

Art by ilameys

Zettai Zetsumei • Co shu Nie

Word Count: 5.7k

⚠️: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT ♥ Manhandling, Slight body horror descriptions, descriptions of blood, himbo!doppelgänger!Francis Mosses, Yandere Behavior, Mentions of Stalking, sexualization of the female MC by Fake Francis, SMUT(CNC, mentions of a "rape kit"), and monster cock.

I write for free, but if you wanna further support me > Ko-Fi 🎀

Life was somewhat boring for you as a woman in the 50s. Despite being sought after by a lot of the men in your apartment complex, you had your heart set on one man. You only got to see him once a day. Francis Mosses. When he would deliver milk to your door in the morning. No matter how cute or cherry you were, it seemed like his mind was set on other things. The man always looked tired but you thought he was handsome no matter what. Maybe even more handsome…it was just something about hot men being tired that made them so much hotter.

You had hoped that eventually, he’d notice you and finally take you on a date!

But that hope soon faded when you read the newspapers. They talked about how doppelgängers are becoming a lot more frequent and the D.D.D. would be installing new units everywhere to ensure that no evil counterparts are making their way into the homes of others and killing people. You were able to tell if this made you feel safer or a lot more scared. What if someone made a mistake…?

Well, you didn’t have a chance to feel anything really, as the D.D.D. was extremely secretive about this kind of threat. After some time, it became normalized and it soon left your mind. The Doorman job seemed to be pretty effective as you had never seen any monsters before and were very much alive. It was rumored that the creatures would murder and eat any person they encountered if they succeeded in passing as humans. This is another reason you had your heart set on Francis. You felt as though he could protect you at a time like this. Maybe it was naive of you but after all, you were just a girl.

“Good Morning.”

Upon hearing the small knock at your door, you went to greet him. Francis stood tall, rather confused about you coming to get your bottled milk so quickly.

“Oh, good morning…” He replied flatly, gripping the strap of his milk bag. You thought that maybe he had a mutual crush on you and was too shy to act on it. So, you could take that step for him.

“How are you this morning? I hope that life is agreeing with you today.” You stepped outside of your apartment door with your glass of milk in hand. Francis shrugged. “I suppose it is.” He then yawned before saying “What’s wrong? Are you looking for another?”

You blinked. “Huh?” Your eyes then darted down to your hands. “O-Oh…sure.” You smiled attractively, causing him to break eye contact with you. He reached into his milk carrier and revealed and took out another. “You’re only allowed to get one every day but you can have mine.” He walked up to you and placed the bottle into your free hand.

“Th-Thanks!”

“Don’t mention it.”

After he disappeared around the corner, you were filled with joy! That interaction was such a good sign. He gave you his milk bottle. You had to make him something for dinner tonight as a gift!

Thunk!

You almost jumped at the sound of glass falling on the carpet at the far end of the hallway behind you. It looked like an empty milk bottle if you squinted hard enough. There was a shadow as well. It made you feel uneasy and quickly made you retreat into your home.

You wanted to try seeing if you could have more time with Francis. There was a job opening for the D.D.D. Doorman of your building and you instantly took it. Being able to meet with Francis when he wasn’t busy might have your conversations with him take a turn for the better. You really appreciated his selfless gesture. So, seeing him at least twice a day would make your life so much brighter. Francis was the complete package. Tall, handsome, quiet, and most of all, soft-spoken. You’d be a good wife to him.

On the first day of the job, you didn’t receive any proper training. You were given an informational video and a set of instructions that you scrambled to memorize as a long line of your neighbors awaited their inspection outside. The job was easy at first and you did it well. It was a chore but those are easy. You let in the right people and you called the D.D.D. when you found a doppelganger like you were instructed to. Unfortunately, at the end of the day, Francis didn’t pay you any mind. You gave him a soft smile through the glass before asking him about his day. 

“I hope work is treating you well.” You pitched your voice up to sound cuter. Your graceful hands moved swiftly as you sifted through the many layers of documents, trying to organize them before your next neighbor. “Yeah, I suppose.” He answered, blinking rather slowly. Your smile widened. “Any days off soon? I’d like to see you outside of your uniform.” You winked at him and he just shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Well, maybe, sometime after your hard work, you tell me a day you’d think you would be free?” 

You waited with anticipation for his response. He seemed rather confused and it was rather adorable. Then he said “I don’t really know. I think I’m busy but I’ll let you know if that changes.”

Your smile faltered just a little but you were good at faking emotions. “Oh, no worries.” You waved him off in a playful manner before pressing the button to allow him inside. Your shift ended and you thought that you should probably get to making that dinner for him as a ‘thank you’ for the free milk. As you began to clean up, the pressure of your job began to set in. This wasn’t something that you could just quit if Francis were to reject you. Ignoring all the unexplainable noises, the dark figures, and the constant feeling of being watched, it would be very awkward seeing him every day after that.

It was a new day. Francis came to check into the building and you let him go without chatting with him because you didn’t want to seem like a bother. But…then you saw him again.

“Francis?” You cutely tilted your head. The way he looked at you was much different than usual. The Francis you knew could barely make meaningful eye contact with you but right now he had no problem burning holes into your skull with his eyes. Not only that but he was visibly bigger as well. Taller and more masculine. His arms were big and veiny. This was NOT Francis Mosses.

“I-ID…?” You gave a nervous half-smile as you tried to hide your stutter. The humanoid creature gawked, a subtle sense of happiness washing over its face the longer it stayed there. “Don’t have it on me.” It replied plainly. You picked up the clipboard before exing out the box that was labeled “ID.”

“W-Well, you seem to look a lot like someone who’s already checked in. Please, give me a moment to confirm.” You flashed it a close-eyed smile. Upon seeing it, the fake Francis moved closer to the window, fogging it up with its mouth breathing.

You pressed the big red button to close the shutter before dialing the number to the D.D.D. 

The representative told you someone would be over right away to dispose of the doppelgänger. It only took about a minute before they’d arrive. Normally, the shutter would open on its own after being reset by the D.D.D. member but for some reason, it didn’t You figured that now would be a good time to open it to help the last neighbors but when you did, you were not met with the hazmat suit you were so familiar with. 

In front of you was the same fake Francis from before, now covered in some blood. His expression was one of annoyance and the veins in his arms were pulsating as if he were trying to contain some kind of anger.

“E-Excuse me, but you need to—!”

“Let me in.”

Your heart dropped. It talked! And it sounded just like Francis too. 

You shook your head. “N-No! I’m not letting a monster in.” You reached for the number to re-dial the number again.

“But I think you look so pretty today. You wore that just for me, huh? I’d love to t-tear it off of you.” The creature’s neck involuntarily cracked its neck, twisting it in a demonic way. You screamed at the sight, pressing the button once more to close the shutters so that you wouldn’t have to see it. As they went down, the doppelgänger tried to stop it by putting his hand under it. It got caught in the track, causing it to get stuck on the track and it was open halfway.

“Come on, Darling, I know you’re not about to call those bastards again. I don’t want to have to hurt anyone else.” The large man-creature crouched down. You could see his fanged canine teeth poking out of his mouth. You backed away from the window with the telephone in hand.

3312…

You listened to the dial tone for a few seconds before the receptionist answered.

“Hello?”

“P-Please send help!” You cried over the phone. Tears began to spill out of your eyes upon hearing the squeal of metal as the predator stretched and bent it to his will. The glass was the only thing left that could stop him from entering.

You saw how abnormally long his tongue was when it glided over his lips. “I just want to taste you…”

The receptionist dispatched another group of workers to help dispose of the doppelgänger. They arrived almost instantly. It was only then that the fake Francis moved away from the window. You sighed in relief, trying to calm yourself down from the events that transpired. You ran over to the tempered glass. The mental door looked like sheet paper.

You saw no trace of the Hazmat people but you also didn’t see the fake Francis anymore. You quickly gathered your things and rushed to leave. You opened the door to let yourself out. You planned to run to your room and lock the door but as soon as you had left the room, you bumped into a stiff, toned chest. The figure grabbed you by your neck and forced you to look at them. The gloved hand was covered in blood and it stained your skin and the collar of your dress.

“Where do you think you’re going, Princess?”

His grip around your throat was so tight that you weren’t able to form words. It was completely covered in blood and in its other hand was a knife dripping with blood as well. It kept the violence to one side of the room so that you weren’t able to see anything unless you completely left the screening room.

The light clank of the knife hitting the ground could be heard and its newly free hand grabbed your waist. The doppelgänger hugged you to its masculine chest. Its head rested itself on top of yours before it planted its nose in the crown of your head before inhaling your scent deeply. The blaring sound of the alarm continued to go off and it was deafening.

Your nose was overloaded with the scent of fresh blood. The pure shock didn’t let you resist his touch. His grip loosened and you dropped everything you had in your hands on the floor, staining it in with the red substance

“P-Please.”

You felt its large hand around the back of your neck and you feared that it would snap it and kill you any second. You held your breath as you felt it set the other hand on your waist as well, rubbing it gingerly.

It felt like the doppelgänger was sizing you up to see if you’d be a good enough meal for it.

“He-ey, beautiful. It's… okay…” 

The doppelgänger’s speech was somewhat disconnected but it was fluid for the most part. At first, it was clear he was a fake but the more he kept talking, the more it sounded like the real thing…like it was learning in real time.

Your heart rate accelerated when you felt its hand travel ever so slowly from your waist to the collar of your dress. The inhuman smile on its face widened and it suddenly ripped the cloth that covered your torso. You gasped, instinctively covering your now exposed bra.

You wiggled out of its grip and used the opportunity to run. You kicked off your pumps and ran barefoot to your apartment. All you could do was hope that more of the D.D.D. would come and solve the issue before anyone else could get hurt. The emergency alarm was still going off so the authorities should be there soon.

When you arrived at your door, you tried to scramble to look for your keys so that you could get inside but…

…you remembered that you dropped them along with the rest of your possessions.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching behind you. The large shadow engulfed your smaller form.

“Allow me.” The stranger said, calmly. Their large fist went through the door handle, shattering the lock and making it completely useless. You were too shocked to try running again. It found you.

The doppelganger shoved you against the door, swinging it open and causing you to fall forward inside of your home. You hit the floor with a soft but swift thud. “I see the way you look at him.” Its voice was laced with venom—anger but left more to be desired. It was playing with you awfully long for a creature that was trying to kill you.

“But you’d never look at me that way…”

The Fake Francis entered the apartment making sure to secure the door behind it so that you couldn’t run anymore. You cried and whimpered as it took its sweet time pushing your bookcase in front of the door so no one would intervene with what was supposed to happen next.

“I-I don’t know what you’re—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence as it smashed its lips into yours. Its tongue was like that of a serpent, slipping its way into your mouth. You tried to push it away but any attempts just resulted in your lips connecting once more. It was too strong. 

You were terrified but it passed so much for the real Francis.

“Tell me you don’t like it ‘n I’ll stop.” It whispered into your mouth before it French kissed you once more. You kissed it back, unable to resist his appearance any longer. When it pulled away, a string of saliva connected between both of your mouths. It’s warm breath hits the surface of your face, eyes full of lust and horror.

It’s soft lips attached themselves to your neck, biting and sucking until your skin slowly began turning red. “Mmm.” It hummed deeply, traveling lower and lower until it reached the cavern between your breasts. “You’re sensitive here, aren’t you?” It placed kisses in the valley of your chest, waiting for a reply. You were unable to form words at this point. It wanted to ravage you and steal your innocence. It took your idleness as consent, continuing on with satisfying itself and by extension, satisfying you.

It took the delicate hand you had been using to drive a wedge between the both of you. You thought that at this point it was going to break your arm! You squeezed your eyes shut, ready to endure the pain but…it didn’t. You felt the heated bulge beneath it’s bloodied white trousers. It throbbed. 

That’s when it finally clicked for you. It wasn’t playing with you like you were food. It wasn’t trying to taste you and pick it’s teeth with your bones. It wanted to be with you. To breed you.

“I—ah~♡!” You bit down on your lip to contain the pretty moans that left your mouth. Your bra was removed, fully exposing your breasts. Its tongue touched the tip of your nipple and its mouth enveloped over your entire areola. It licked and sucked on the bud until it was nice and hard. The other hand was subtly slipped under your dress.

It took barely any strength at all to rip the fabric, showing how inappropriately wet you’d become from this activity. It craved the essence that was oozing from your tiny cunt.

At the feeling of the cold wind, you brought your legs together just to have them forced apart again. The creature made you feel so small and vulnerable. It used force when it felt necessary but overall, it was….soft. Licking, kissing, biting but no drawing blood, taste, loving.

It salivated at your legs, raising one and nuzzling the side of its face into the smooth skin. “So…gorgeous.” It pulled you forward. “When I saw you, I knew I wanted you.”

“Y-You did…?” You squeaked. It’s touch sent goosebumps from your limp to the rest of your body. “Two years I’ve been watching you. It was so damn annoying seeing you talk to that piece of meat.”

Piece of meat?

“I don’t know who you mean.” You shied away from the perfect creature. Could it mean…

“F-Francis?” You knitted your eyes together in confusion.

“Yes—HIM!” The doppelgänger dropped your leg and pulled you by your thighs to its crotch. “…I could never decide what skin would be the best to pursue you in. But then I’d see the way you look at him.” Pre-cum was beginning to show from its member inside. You could feel the wet fabric on the lips of your hot cunt. “So, I became him…but better.”

You heard the subtle unzipping sound of the pants and it took out its thick cock. It was larger than normal and didn't look like the standard male genitalia. You’d need to use both hands to hold it.

There was no denying this thing could perfectly replicate a human man. Before you could even react, the big “man” picked you up by your hair.

“Get on your knees.” He commanded and you felt obligated to obey him. You’ve never been in a situation where you were being held up by a man like this.

“I’m gonna split you in half with this cock.” He pushed its large tip against your cheek, straining it with warm cum. “Open your mouth.”

Your lips parted for a moment but you hesitated. There was no way that whole thing could fit into your mouth. Your eyes traveled up to his for guidance. He only stared down at you with hard, tired eyes. The corner of his mouth tugged upward into a smirk.

“I said…open your mouth.”

He spoke through his teeth as if it were a threat. You were reluctant but tried to ease it in. You kissed his tip, causing him to grunt and tighten his fist around your hair. “Open.” He growled, yanking your head back. His cock was so close to your face that you could truly take in its side. It was nearly the length of your skull. 

You opened your mouth out of fear and he shoved it inside. He was kind enough to let you get used to it in your throat by going soft and slow…or maybe he was just distracted by the imprint showing on your throat. 

You grabbed his hips to keep yourself from falling backward. Even a bit of force made you lose your balance. “Good girl.” He sighed, relaxing into you, pushing the limits by pushing it deeper. Your choking and gagging only made him feel pleasure.

“You struggling with my dick in your mouth is so hot.” You heard him mutter under his breath. Your eyes began to water from the choking, causing tears to carry mascara down your cheeks.

“Keep sucking.” He fucked into your throat and gentle too. “I’m close.”

 Both of his hands found themselves on the back of your head. He sped up his pace until a loud groan emitted from his chest and a mysterious liquid found its way down your throat.

The doppelgänger let go of your hair. You fell back on your bottom and he crouched down. “Hey.” He called, grabbed both sides of your face with one hand. He squeezed your cheeks together. “Swallow.”

You swallowed what was left and once he knew it was in your belly, his lips crashed into yours. His tongue wormed its way into your mouth and explored every cavern.

You felt yourself get lifted again but this time to your feet. He walked you over to your dining table and shoved you into it. “Bend over.”

You didn’t really get a choice. When you tried to stand, he forced you down to the table with his hand on the back of your head. 

You expected him to say something, but he stayed silent. You felt him explore your backside from your hips to your exposed ass. The wind was so cold but his hands were so warm.

He chuckled darkly, spreading your ass cheeks and sticking his shaft in between. His dick was so much bigger than you that you would definitely have a belly bulge because of it. He wanted to experience it for himself.

You waited with silent anticipation for him what he would do next. You weren’t too sexually active anymore because you wanted to reserve that for the real Francis, if you ever got the chance with him, so you were really nervous about having something so big inside.

“Uah!” You squeaked, feeling a wet, warm muscle enter the deepest part of your cunt. It was his tongue!

You whipped your head around to see that his face was buried in you from behind. “Mmm.” You heard him hum vibrations into you. He consumed all of your juices as they came out. It must’ve tasted so good coming from a pretty human like you.

With every moan and whimper that left your mouth, it made his dick grow harder and harder. He didn’t stop until you had creamed all over his tongue. So much came out that it got all over his face too.

“I-Is that it? Is that what you want…?” You asked, but you were only ignored.

“Pick a hole.”

“Wh-wha—“

“Pick a hole, or I will.”

Pick…a hole…?

His large thumb massaged your asshole while his knuckles, now sleek with your cream, was stimulating your pussy.

“Um…I—“ 

“Both it is!”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, what?!”

You felt his thumb sink deep into your ass while he struggled to get his large tip into your pussy. “Damn you’re fucking tight.” He growled through his teeth. His free hand grabbed your ass, fingers sinking in so deep they’d leave marks. 

“W-Wait, you have to go slow!” You cried, face heating up from being touched in such filthy ways. “I am.” He grumbled, pushing the limits of your vagina by forcing himself inside. Despite going at the pace of a snail, the pain of trying to fit himself inside didn’t decrease at all. You helplessly clawed at the table beneath you. It didn’t matter how wet you were. He was too big.

It took a moment but he was able to get it. It slipped in with much ease on his end but the difference inside made you gasp so hard you needed to cover your mouth.

The doppelgänger began thrusting without warning, quickly overstimulating you. You could feel him in your stomach too. You reach back to push him off of you but he just grabbed your arm and kept it. There wasn’t much you could do to get someone this big off of you. You would only take it.

“P-Please…I can’t take it!” You gapped out, drool escaped your mouth as you tried to form words. He was fucking you so hard you couldn’t even think. All that could be heard around the room was the lewd slapping of his filled balls against the bottom of your pussy. 

“Beg for it then. Say you love me.” His breath hitched. “Say you want me and I’ll let you go.”

“I—“ Slap! 

You tried to speak. “I wa—“ Slap!

It seemed that when you tried to comply with him, he’d remove the hand playing with your asshole to leave a rough, skin-reddening slap on your ass. Your struggling amused him. He couldn’t help but smile.

The doppelgänger has been stalking you for so long. It was hard getting into your apartment normally because of the last doorman but he couldn’t resist you once you were sitting at that desk.

“What’s wrong?” He teased, his deep voice going soft. “My dick isn’t in your mouth anymore…so what’s the issue?” He chuckled. “Beg.”

“I want you!” You blurted out.

“You…want me? Say there’s no one else. Say you love me!” It was like music to his ears, really. It was helping him reach his climax.

“I…I love you—“

“FUCK!”

Your belly bulge quickly became bigger as his cum painted your walls and womb. Even with his dick growing more flaccid, he continued to fuck his cum into you so that you both knew who you belonged to now. Tears spilled out of your eyes as you squirted onto his cock, mixing your juices together.

“I love you too, Princess. More than you could ever imagine—“ Before he could finish, his ears perked up almost like an animal. His attention turned towards your door that he had destroyed before. “Here they come.” He muttered, putting his member back into his pants.

You weakly lifted yourself from the table. Your hand placed itself tight below your navel. It was so sore now. “Who’s coming…? What are you talking about…?”

The doppelgänger ignored you, its horns flesh and bones began contorting and changing color. Its physique turned from that of a huge masculine man to the familiar form of that of a D.D.D. member. Yellow suit and all. 

It ran to the door, opening it, and sticking its head out. “I found her, she's in here!” Its voice changed to a generic man as well. Not at all like the deep gruff from before.

Your legs felt like jelly, you fell to the ground as soon as you were able to stand. They were numb from the pleasure, leaving you unable to walk.

What happened next went by as a blur. The D.D.D. Reinforcement Team took you to a hospital where you were taken care of and given rape kit. You were unable to refuse it once the forensics team found semen at the scene. In order to maintain faith in the D.D.D., your assault was largely covered up but only those who were in the apartment that day knew about it.

After the commotion of filing our paperwork and giving information, you were sent home. You didn’t sustain any life threatening injuries but you were asked to come in periodically to see how your body would react to having the semen of a doppelgänger inside of you…so now you were a bit of a test subject to them. You quit the job after that but you were quickly replaced by a new guy. 

You hadn’t seen the doppelgänger the entire time. Or at least, you thought you didn’t. You wanted to process the situation but you were more confused as to why it craved so much validation from you. It wanted you to say you loved it. It wanted you to say that you wanted it. It said that it’s been waiting two years to be this close to you. It looked like Francis.

You had just arrived back home. Carpenters quickly replaced your door before you got home and you decided to continue life as usual by making dinner for yourself. Your heart still aches from the fear you felt when you thought you were going to die. And so did your vagina. It didn’t bleed, thank god, but it was sore to the touch from how big that monster was.

“Man, I thought you’d never come back.”

You were alone in your kitchen when a voice emitted from behind you. The familiarity in the voice made your heart drop. You quickly turned around to see the doppelgänger from before, masquerading as Francis again.

“What are you doing here? What do you—“

“Shh, princess.” He strided through your small kitchen, stepping so close to you that you were against the counter with nowhere else to go. You placed your hands on his chest, giving you the illusion that you could push him away. He grabbed your arm by the wrist before kissing the inside of your palm. He kissed your fingers and then the back of your hand before making you cup his cheek, which he nuzzled into lovingly.

You wanted to rip your hand away but his grip was so strong. You blushed. Was it wrong to admit that he…it, was attractive? 

“Why didn’t you kill me and eat me? Why did you do that to me?” You questioned meekly. His eyes were closed, enjoying your warm touch with a smile before they opened. His eyes were like hunter's eyes. “Because I love you.” He replied flatly. 

“I don’t know what that means…” 

You opened your mouth to speak again but you were cut off by a knock at your door. 

“I’ll get it.” The doppelgänger quickly said and in a mere second, it shapeshifted to turn into…you. It was able to mimic you in all your glory, including the hickeys, bites and bruises from your attack.

“No!” You blurted out. “Don’t do that.”

The doppelgänger allowed you to move away from it and your arm fell to your side. You went to get the door but you made sure to check who it was before opening.

It was Francis!

“It’s him!” You hurried to your bedroom to find your cardigan to cover your tattered clothes before answering the door.

“Francis? What brings you here?” You forced a smile but your eyes looked just as tired as his. You couldn’t hide anything from him.

“I heard what happened. ‘m so glad you’re okay.” Francis sighed, quickly invading your personal space. He hugged you to his chest. You blinked “F-Francis…?”

“I felt all torn up when I thought you died but when I heard that you were just fine, I just had to come see you myself.” Your stomach burned with delight. Francis was worried about you?

Francis let go of you and you pulled away. His face was red like he was blushing and you couldn’t help but blush too. Your lips curled into a smile. “W-Well, I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

He wanted to smile back but he couldn’t. He saw the marks on your skin. You were hurt. “I know you are.” He masked his sadness with a weak smile. He rested his hand on your head and ruffled it a bit.

It would probably be inappropriate for him to admit that he’s actually had feelings for you all this time, so he’d save it for another day. Hearing the news about the doppelgänger through gossip during his job of going door to door made him realize he could lose you at any moment. But today, he settled with placing a kiss at the crown of your head. “Stay safe. I’ll check on you again later.”

For a moment, everything in your life went still. Even after he had walked away and left you standing there, it didn’t feel real. This more or less confirmed he had a crush on you as well. No man just does that and doesn’t see you as more than just a neighbor.

Your heart fluttered as you came back to reality. You slipped back inside of your home. You need to get cleaned up! You had to bathe and find something suitable just in case Francis wanted to come inside upon your next meeting.

But then….

“You look awfully happy.”

The doppelgänger was still here. You gulped, seeing his much bigger form. He grabbed the sides of your face with his hand again. He didn’t bother crouching because of your size difference, leaving you standing on the tips of your toes.

You were too shocked to try defending yourself, so he continued. “I saw everything so don’t even try to lie. That bastard is so lucky that I have to lay low until the D.D.D. gets their claws out of you or else I would’ve…”

“Don’t hurt him!” You tried to beat and punch his arm to get him off but he didn’t budge. “Why not?!”

“Because…I’ll be sad. And you don’t want me to be sad, do you?” Your voice was unlabeled and lacked confidence. It was a Hail Mary but you’d do anything to prevent Francis from getting hurt.

“Shit.” The doppelgänger let go of you, setting you back on your feet. It seemed…conflicted. He paced around your living room briefly. It had a soft spot for you but you could tell it has trouble processing emotions like a person. It was just imitating a person to get what it wanted.

“You don’t want him. You just wanna marry a guy. I’ll marry you.” 

You shook your head. “No. Y-You can’t. You’re not him.”

“Of course I am.” His expression became mischievous. A smirk settled on his handsome face. “You can even call me Francis in bed if it fancies you.” 

You felt your stomach do a flip!

“No! I’m not calling you that. Even though you look just like him…wh-what do I call you anyway…?” You retreated inward, hugging yourself and looking quite nervous as if the situation was beginning to dawn on you. You were currently desired by one of the most dangerous beings in the world.

“Francis.”

“Stop! I’m never using that name for you.” You got angry enough to shove him but he didn’t move an inch. You quickly realized that you shouldn’t push too hard or else it might change its mind and kill you. 

“Mmm….” You pursed your lips, avoiding eye contact with the monster. “Wh-What about Franz? Is that good enough for you…?”

Franz, huh?

“Perfect.”

Tagged Folks: @z3r0art @chilifrylizard2

[todomochi-uwu]

“Hey, you up?”  B.C

Pairing: Bang Chan x reader

Genre: Angst, Smut

Warnings: This content is for a mature audience

Synopsis: Don't wanna end this game Hope it goes for eternity Let's not go official, we can keep the "You & Me" Don't ask, "What are we?"

Author's notes: This is sad and steamy. It's been quite some time, sorry. Hope you like it.

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“Hey, you up?”  

Nights like this always start the same. Same message, same reply, same outcome. Every. Single. Time. And every time you end up the same way. Tangled in your cold bed sheets, staring at ceiling, while he’s quick to look for his clothes and get out as quick as possible. A long time ago you had tried to get him to stay, but now you know it is a lost cause. Chan would never stay over, because staying over is for people in relationships, and he doesn’t do relationships.  

“I’ve never liked labels, if we are having fun, why spoilt it with technicalities?”, he said.  

Things started with you being naive enough to believe that sex would be enough for your fragile heart. Maybe you could get closer to him little by little, you thought, maybe he would grow feelings (well, at least you did) maybe, maybe, maybe...   

Sex with Chan is great, mind-blowing, you’d never had someone who was so focused on your body, on what you like and what sends you over the edge. It was like he had memorized every single nerve of your body, knowing where to touch, where to suck, like or bite. It was everything he did that made you almost addicted to him; the way his fingers would reach places yours could never even imagine; how his tongue and lips seemed to be able to go on forever, never once complaining; the way his hips and his cock would move and thrust sending you into heaven every single time. Chan was a giver in bed, always making sure to put you first while in bed, many orgasms, and blissful hours at a time, but as soon as you were done, he went back to being the same detached man you know.   

And while at first, you could somewhat stand this kind of relationship, it was slowly destroying you on the inside. So, now you lay there, staring at your phone screen, debating yourself. Would it be worth it? At least for a few hours, to be in his arms until your little bubble pops once he’s had his fill. Saving your soul and your mental peace would be a wise decision, but you are weak, weak and in love.  

“Fuck, Chris!” You pulled his hair, his head between your legs, while his lips are wrapped around your clit and his fingers piston in and out of your hole. His other hand keeps your legs open while you thrash them around, unable to keep them still.  

His fingers change into their angle, making you throw your head back, now his tongue kitten licks your small bundle of nerves, “Common, pretty girl. Cum one more time and I’ll fuck you the way you like.” His lips sucked harshly.  

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, please, please, please.” You didn't even know what you were begging for, “Don’t stop, Chan.” Tears threatened to come out, it was too much.   

“You are doing so good, such a good girl, my perfect little slut. Come on, baby cum.” His tongue thrusting itself into you, sending you over the edge. Your back arched and you let out such a sound you were sure the neighbours would complain in the morning, but you couldn't care less right now.  

Eyes closed and desperate for air, your legs numb and a tingly feeling between them, Chan kept lapping at your centre, slurping all your juices, overstimulating you. Your mind was in complete bliss, making you unaware of the producer’s next plans. He was quick to turn you around, grabbing your hips and putting you in four.  

“Fucking hell, you have no idea how much I love your ass.” He said as he spanked your cheeks a couple of times, leaving a dark imprint on both. You moaned and shoved your face into your pillows, you could feel your juices start to spill down your leg.  

“Please, please, fuck me, Chanie.” You wiggled your hips, trying to entice him.  

He grabbed his cock and rubbed your clit with it, “Yeah? You want my cock, baby?” He pressed it against your cunt, pushing a bit in, but it wasn’t enough, “Beg for it, love.”  

You whined, your skin was on fire, and your legs trembled with need, “please, daddy, I’ve been a good girl, please, please, I need your cock, plea...” You screamed.   

Chan shoved himself with a single thrust. Throwing his head back and grabbing your hips tightly, he didn’t give you any time to get used to. “Shit, you are so fucking tight.” His pelvis banged the tender skin of your ass, his balls slapping your clit, and his cock hitting against your cervix. His rhythm was too much, but you wouldn’t dare escape it.  

He leaned himself into you, put his hand right beside your head. He could see how red your face was, the way your mouth let out at sins and how tears ran down your face. And he was loving every single second of it. “Who is making you feel this good, baby?”  

You couldn't even answer, gibberish and moans came out of you, but that wasn’t enough for you. He changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting a sensitive spot inside you, making you scream, his hand went right to your clit, rubbing it in circles, “Answer me. Who?” You tried once again, but nothing clear came out.  

Tired of this, Chan straightens himself, taking you with him. Your back against his chest, his hand choking your neck while his thrust got even quicker, his mouth right next to your ear. “I know you are nothing but a dumb slut, but I’m talking to you, and I expect an answer. Now.” Thrust. “Tell me.” Thrust. “Who’s fucking you this good?”.  He bit you, marking you.  

“You, Chan!” Your thighs burned and you were so close, your juices now ran down his balls, and you felt like passing out. He pushed you to the bed, pressing himself against your back.  

“This pussy is mine, you hear me? No one else can have it.” His thrusts were becoming quicker, shorter and desperate, he was also close. “Only I get to fuck it, you are my whore, no one else’s.” Thrust. “Don’t you dare forget that.”  

Nonsense and his name kept coming out of you like a prayer, everything building up, until the tight knot in your stomach finally snapped, juices squirting everywhere. He wasn’t there yet, so he kept going, overstimulating you, sending your nerves into overdrive.  

“Just a bit more, Babygirl, hold on, yes, you are such a good girl, goddamn how much I love fucking you. Oh god!” And like that, you felt his warmth filling you up, making you cum once again. Slowly, he pulls his cock out, his seed spilling out of you and into your sheets. Your legs finally give in, and you fall flat out into the mattress.   

Your brain is somewhere else, trying to come back down, and Chan is right next to you. His left arm is in his face, he licks his lips in dehydration, his chest falls up and down quickly and his right hand holds tightly onto your thigh, trying to ground himself.   

And just as fast as Chan comes, he goes. He straightens himself, sitting down at the edge of the bed, he’s quiet and distant, looking for his clothes. Not once does the turn to look at you. “Hey, are you okay?”   

“Yeah.” You whisper, laying on your side, facing away from him.  

“Good.” He pulls his pants up, and his shirt next.   

As he’s about to make his great escape, all reason flies out of your head.   

“Hey, Chris?”  

“Yes?”  

“What are we?”  

You wait a few seconds, but nothing comes of his mouth, you have an answer.   

“Yeah, I knew it. Goodbye, Chris.”  

He doesn’t dare anything else, so he leaves.  

Everything had changed in that second, and you both know it.  

_________________  

It had been weeks since that night. All messages had gone unanswered. You were no longer lying in bed wondering if you should do it, you didn't. It was now Chan who tried to reach out.  

“Hey, you up?”  

“Hey, you up?”  

“Hey, you up?”  

“Hey, umm I don’t know if you are busy, but call me when you can. Or text me.”  

“Hey, baby haven’t seen you in a while. Text me. Please.”  

“Hey, did you change your number, and I forgot to save it or...”   

“Hey, I went to that café you like so much, you are right, it’s really good, we should go once you are not so busy. Text me.”  

“Hey, did I do something? Are you mad at me? Cause if I did, please let’s talk it out.”  

“Hey, listen, I don’t want to lose you over something so stupid. Call me. Please.”  

You can’t lose something you never had; you think. Work and friends kept you busy enough so you didn’t think about him in the day, nights were much more complicated, and there were days you were tempted to go back, longing for him, for his touch and his warmth, but you knew it would only make you feel worse.   

Han was the best friend in the world, taking you out and making you break out of your shell little by little, some days it was a party, others it was just the two of you. Some days you felt like you were at the top of the world, whereas others you could only weep in his arms until you passed out from the pain.  

_________________ 

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Makeup and hair done, high heels and heavy earrings, and even though you were trying to erase that fact from your head, his favourite dress on. Han had chosen it for you, and you couldn’t tell him why you had avoided that specific piece of clothing.   

“You ready, sweetie?” He peeked into the room. You nodded, not sure of it.   

_________________ 

Music was blasting out and bright coloured lights covered the entire place. The drink in your hand had served its purpose, you were drunk. In the middle of the dance floor, Han has his hands on your waist, keeping you close while you dance. He whispers sweet things in your ear, while you giggle. It wasn’t something new, this scene had occurred on past occasions, even escalating, but Han and you never dug too deep into it, kisses and casual affairs had once been part of your friendship, and you both were comfortable with that.  

He turned you around, looking into your eyes, he placed a small kiss on your forehead, next on the tip of your nose, and your lips. A simple peck. You put your hands around his neck, swaying your hips, throwing your head back, enjoying the moment.  

“What you thinking about, pretty?” He whispered against your lips.  

“Nothing in particular.” You whisper back.  

He pulls you closer, your head against his neck, and his lips leave small kisses on yours. You feel at ease.  

Until you open your eyes.   

And there he is.  

A drink in his hand, he’s looking at you. His eyes burned holes into Jisung’s back. All air escapes your lungs.  

“Ji, he’s, he’s here.” You whisper-yelled, your pulse going up.  

“What? Chan? Are you sure?”  

“Jisung, he’s here.” Your tongue twists and your fists tighten around his clothes, “He’s here, I don’t know what to do, I, I, I’m not ready.”   

“Okay, calm down, I’m getting you out of here.” He grabs your hand, quick to push his way through the crowd. You make it out of the place, and the cold air hits you, helping regain your breath. “Okay, give me a second, I’m getting the car, wait here.” You try to protest, but he’s gone before you can.   

You stand there, shivering, praying he doesn’t find you, but you smell his cologne before you can even see him.  

 “I thought you and Jisung were only friends.” His tone is harsh, making you flinch, “Is he the reason you’ve been ignoring me?”  

“We are just friends.”  

“Friends don’t kiss like that.”  

“Yeah? Then what the hell were we doing, Chan? Because we sure as hell were not dating.” Your turned to him.   

“Why haven't you answered my texts?”  

“I’ve been busy.”  

“With him?” Venom spits out of his mouth, he’s way past furious. You know he’s jealous, but that throws you off.  

“No, Chan. I have a life out of our little flings, and you know it.”  

“So, you are too busy to answer me, but aren’t too busy to come here and throw yourself into Jisung?”  

Okay. You are done.  

“What do you want me to say, Chan? You have no right to come here and demand an answer. You are not my boyfriend. You and me, we are nothing.”  

“That’s a damn lie and you know it.”  

“Do I? What are we? Because you made it quite clear, you like me Chan, but you don’t love me.”  

“The fact that I don’t like labels, doesn’t...”  

“Oh, cry me a fucking river, Christopher. You don’t want me, but you also don’t want anyone else to have me. You are so fucking cruel.” You cried, tired of everything, of him, “I need to move on, I need it. Please, let me go.”  

Han's car horn ranged loudly, arriving just in time to save you. “I’ve gotta go. Goodbye, Chris.” Same words as that night, the night he lost you. They ran on Chan’s ears.   

He grabbed your hand, tightly, not wanting you to leave, “please, please let’s talk, I don’t want this to end.” Small droplets came out of his eyes, startling you, but you stood your ground.  

“Chan, let me go please.” You tugged.  

“I don’t want to.” He pulled.  

“Don’t make it even harder, please, my heart can’t take it anymore.” You whispered.  

“Give me a chance, please. I’m begging you.  

“No, Chan. I already know how this will end, and I can’t take it.”  

He shook his head, “please.”  

...  

“Can you promise you will be my boyfriend?” Plain and simple.  

“What?” His eyes widened.  

“Can you promise to give us a title? No more casual sex? Will you make it official?”   

You wait a few seconds, but nothing comes of his mouth, you have an answer.   

“Yeah, I knew it. Goodbye, Chris.”  

Everything had ended in that second, and you both know it. 

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Just Friends (König x F!Reader)

How to Escape the Friendzone 2/4 (Word count 5.3 k)

Summary: König is a horny, creepy killing machine obsessed with a shy, kind reader who has a raging knife kink.

Tags/warnings: 🔞 Eventual smut, eventual violence, angst, dark romance, canon divergence. Crack treated seriously. Yandere undertones, implied stalking, panty stealing, major character death, size kink, voyeurism, possessive sex, twisted, fluffy feelings. Loner boy/gentle girl dynamic. Protective!Obsessive!Top!König. Reader works as a cleaner at the base. She is described to have hair and prefers to wear dresses off work. Not safe or sane but mostly consensual.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Massive arms go about her as she's pulled against a lean chest. It's an awkward, tense hug. He smells of open air and coppice, with a whiff of acrid sweat on top as she lays her head somewhere between the bumps of muscle of a warm chest.

Not even the body heat makes him appear more human: his heart is not pounding as fast as she thought it would after making it clear he would score some tonight.

She fears she's dealing with a sociopath. Might even be a psychopath.

"Are you still afraid?"

"I don't know." Her breaths are everything but steady as she inhales the intoxicating scent of a madman.

"Don't be scared. I will only hurt those who wish to hurt you."

His pledge renders her weak; it makes her legs shake. She gets far more than she bargained for when pulling him in to give her a little late-night comfort.

Friends with benefits is a situation bad enough, but this is not okay. The guy's fixation seems boundless, and if she tries to wriggle out of this… relationship and starts seeing someone else, it might end up in König scrubbing the potential future love interest's guts off his shoes.

And something in the idea isn't even wholly appalling.

Good God…

"I don't want you to hurt anyone," she whispers like it isn't his day-to-day job – to hurt and kill people. She is on the verge of collapsing to the floor and stays upright only because he holds her in authoritarian embrace.

"Little angel, it's what I do." He releases her only enough to bow his head and look into her eyes. His stare betrays slight distaste. Those eyes are calm mirrors of how can someone be so naive.

"You come to me if someone is mean to you," he orders in a stern voice that makes her feel faint.

"Alright," she breathes a fluent little lie. He's satisfied with her answer, however, and presses her head back against him with effortless control.

She imagines him knifing someone with a listless stare from sparing a glance her way; she fantasizes him strangling some chauvinistic moron in the darkness after they have been "mean" to her. Quickening breaths betray her sick thoughts to him because he pulls her even closer. She can feel the enormous cock pressing against her body with a promise of violence.

"Angel… I wish you would stop teasing me."

"Yeah?" Her laugh is restrained, and her heart is racing inside her chest – like it's some kind of a good idea to have a heart attack while a murderous psycho turning into a boyfriend is in the same room with her. "Where's the fun in that…?"

"Do you always tease men like this?"

"No," she swallows a mouthful of woodland and musk. "Just you."

"Hm."

"König… Can I see your face?"

The man finally seems to find his reserve again. He detaches from her, and she can hear the audible gulp inside the hood.

"Maybe later."

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other like he usually does when he's a bit nervous. Probably to ease the discomfort from still being forced into those pants with such an astoundingly large, swelling erection, too.

She can't come up with anything that might explain why the man is so uncomfortable with showing his face. From the small glimpse she saw in the showers, everything looked completely normal. There is some other reason why he wants to wear the mask, most likely some mental block, and she would simply have to wait until he's ready and willing to take it off.

"How about a kiss?"

He doesn't shake his head or escape her as she hesitantly steps toward him and raises a hand to the hem of his hood.

"If I just…"

He does nothing as she starts to raise the mask. The look in his eyes is somewhat haunted, though.

She lifts it just enough to reveal a clean-shaven chin and a pair of thin, tightly shut lips. She briefly notices that there's a scar on his jaw before his mouth opens to call her in. They're polar opposites of each other: she feels breathless and limp when their lips meet while he's a statue of rigid power. Even his mouth is tense as she catches his bottom lip between hers and tries to soften that immortal stiffness. Distant notes of hops catch her tongue just before he pulls her back into a crushing hug.

The guy is not the most perfect kisser. He's very avid, though. In fact, his eagerness is what makes it a scary experience, what makes the kiss clumsy. He smashes his lips on hers with force, then opens his mouth so wide she fears he will devour half her face.

The ungloved hands slide down her back and cup her ass. He's gentle, but she still feels like she's levitating, half an inch above the ground from his groping. He moans like they are already having sex, but before she can disconnect herself from the violent kiss, he does it for her.

"I want to fuck you," he pants across her lips, eyes half-lidded and drunk. "Can I fuck you?"

The man has no conception of how to dance these dances. He simply declares his wish to shove his junk inside her and kill those who might do her harm. She feels dizzy in his arms, like dew that will evaporate under too much heat.

"Yeah, yes," she tries to sound sane, although there's nothing sane about this.

So much for being just friends or being nothing at all…

Her heart is beating faster and faster; it wants to rend itself out of her chest. She feels ample sweat between her thighs, then realizes it's only her own wetness that has broken through the cotton of her underwear. The dress is so tight in the middle that she can't simply try and throw it over her head, and the buttons at the front seem to have suddenly become too big to slip through the holes.

He doesn't take any of his clothes off while watching her undress. The instant she opens her whimsical veil of blooms, he moves close and shoves the fabric down her shoulders so that it drops sadly on the floor. Then he flicks a knife out.

Shit… Shit what the fuck–

"No–Don't–!"

The blade is forced with a flat surface under the middle of her bra. He pulls the fabric away, turns the blade - it's a miracle she's not bleeding by the time he cuts through the center front like it's butter. Her breasts fall free, and the destroyed lingerie hangs cheaply on the side before it gets dragged away too. She looks at his work, her exposed tits and the crude, fat knife he swiftly returns to its sheath.

"That was my favorite br–ah…"

The man is terrifying, even when he sinks to his knees. He dives for her breasts, licks the undersides and sucks her nipples like he's famished. Her head rolls back, and she feels fainter still as he gropes her like she's his toy, chews a nipple until she shudders and cries in pain. Then he goes down, down, panting hot breaths on her skin as he goes, the hood grazing and tickling her skin.

His hands shake slightly as he tears down the last piece of covering fabric from between her legs. She can't even step out of the briefs before a blazing tongue is pushed to her clit, all but delicately.

Perhaps he's not a virgin, but he's not a veteran, either – still, it draws a filthy moan out of her.

She has to take support from his head to prevent herself from falling when the tongue simply forces its way between her legs. It curls to meet her folds, slick with her wet. She knows she's practically leaking at this point, and hears how he licks his lips.

"Of course the angel tastes like heaven too," he rasps in her mound, sounding rather… bitter. Almost annoyed.

She thinks it's only the beginning, but he suddenly rises like a Kraken from the sea, like a Godzilla about to destroy an entire city.

"Get on the bed. All fours."

She chokes the whimper that tries to escape her, then turns and crawls onto the bed as if they are running out of time. His urgency is hers now, and she presents herself to him, waiting for the man to thrust in without remorse, but it's his mouth she feels first.

"Uh–Oh my god…"

He licks her with a flat tongue, torturously slow while she's on display. They're long, profound sweeps, as if he wants to sample her rather than give her pleasure. Although he does give her an immense amount of it.

She falls on her elbows, face down on the bed, exposing more of herself to him in the process. Her pussy has been neglected for so long that the feel of his hot tongue on her is absolutely breathtaking, thigh-shaking. She pushes herself back a little, lets him taste his own medicine for once.

And of course it only makes him more unhinged.

"You're wet like a…" he laughs a short, dry laugh straight into her folds, and she finally whimpers at the sound. "You want it so bad?"

"Yes…?"

It's a sad little confession but more than enough for him. He freezes behind her, and something in the way the air shifts tells her he has risen and is now standing high above her as she's in this crudely vulnerable position.

"I've made you wet this whole time?"

She snivels, opens her eyes, closes them…

"Yes," she sobs in the bed, nearly topples, but he grabs her ass and keeps her in place.

"Ach du lieber Himmel…"

She pants and cries in the sheets, but the sobering silence lasts only for so long.

The sound of a belt being opened shoots her skin full of goosebumps. Only a few seconds later, the fat tip of his cock is swept across her folds: it probes for a second, then slides in.

"A-ah–"

"Scheiße… So tight…"

He hisses and goes all the way in – the journey is long and torturous as he stretches her wide. The thickness only grows at the base, his balls are already tight as they arrive to press against her.

And mercy is not at the top of his list as he realizes she has denied her need and therefore, his. He starts to sail inside her, back and forth, in and out, like it's his job, too. It's total torture. She might just pass out before this is over.

"You little tease…" He seizes control of her hips while using her as his own personal fleshlight. The noise of wet, slick fucking is deafening. The pace is upped soon, and he has to use strength to hold her in place while ramming her from standing while she tries to hold on for her dear life and hold onto the sheets.

"Not so fast, König," she whimpers into her pillow, but he won't listen. The pace is frantic, and his thrusts are deep; he fucks her with despair, with anguish-driven, starved thrusts born from greed.

Nothing has ever felt so good, nothing.

"Just friends, eh?"

She has a hard time deciphering whether he is happy or mad. His voice is pitchy, and she knows, she just knows that he sounds equally as unglued on his missions. Perhaps that's why people rarely talk to him.

"Don't–don't be angry…"

"No? Say that you want me," he commands somewhere behind her, desperation coating the air with pungent sweat and musky arousal. "Say it–say it–"

"I want you," she finally cries, and it feels like an absolution. An amnesty. Remission of sin.

There's panting and frantic sound of slaps of flesh against flesh behind her. The air all around is pure electricity. It makes her quiver and throb and squeeze: him, the sheets, anything and everything.

"I will bring you flowers every morning and fuck you every night. Ja?"

His length is the only thing she can focus on; all else dissolves into a hazy mist. The cock glides in her like he's oiling a gun part, and he could ask her to kill someone and she would only say–

"Yes, yes."

He slides in and out with less and less control, moans and grunts with every thrust now. She's already past the point of no return, even though the orgasm keeps hovering right beyond her reach. She only needs a few more minutes. Or maybe just one...

"König… Not...so–fast…"

He answers something in German, an annoyed string of words she has no clue what they mean. He's probably just swearing profoundly.

"Get...what you deserve..."

That's the only thing she can flesh out from the English that follows. He finally finds some mercy with a choked groan and tries to slow down a little. It's even worse when he does that. He pulls almost completely out, then sinks back in, agonizingly lazy, and that does it: the full length of his giant cock slipping inside her without effort makes her walls clench.

"Oh God…" Her back is arching, her toes are curling, a tight cry disappears somewhere in the pillow, and he won't stop with the – "Oh–fuck–!"

"Yeah," he cheers her on as she screams, cries in the sheets while his cock swims in her. His hands dig into her hips, and she barely has brains left to think it might leave bruises. The orgasm comes in waves, shakes, and he won't let go even when she's only a heap of throbbing, soaking flesh and rapture.

And it's not the end; quite the contrary. He continues to fuck her with abandon: balls slap against her with every jab; they must be covered in her juice at this point, making the sound of sloppy thrusts utterly obscene. She's able to stay in a face-down, ass-up position only because he's holding her there for his cock.

The grunts turn into a wide, thick groan as he approaches the edge as well. The pace slows down almost to a halt before he comes.

"Jetzt…kommt–" he groans through gritted teeth, voice all taut while he grinds through his release. It's a multitude of deep, oddly paced thrusts, a sad attempt to get everything he can, and she's still like a wet gulf sucking him in.

The last throes are sluggish, the madness starts to pass, and she feels like every bone has left her body. There is nothing solid left when the man slowly relents and settles somewhere deep inside her. She can hear how he pants with his mouth open, and it sounds painful, wet, almost drooly. Then he swallows with a breathless gulp, slips out, and lets her go.

She immediately falls forward - topples, crashes, crawls on the bed, tries to rearrange what's left.

Just friends...

Yep.

He crashes somewhere beside her, spent and out of breath. The front of his shirt is covered in sweat; the air is filled with the stale scent of musk and saline sweat and pure, mad sex. She can barely catch a glimpse of the slick, glistening length of him. It feels like a miracle that this thing has been inside her. It’s not that it’s monstrously thick: it’s simply long, curving a little to the side, lean and aggressive even when growing soft.

"You play with fire, Engel. Why did you make me wait so long?"

The masked killer beside her is panting but satisfied for now, and turns his head to look at her. She has to muster all her courage to look back.

"I'm…a bit shy."

"You're perfect," he declares while watching her in her sex daze and ruin. So, at least he's not angry. He finally looks… normal, even with that absurd hood still on, with that intoxicated, admiring stare in his eyes. The ice in his blues has turned into melting snow.

"I noticed you the minute I arrived here."

She can't prevent a hand from reaching out at that, from splaying fingers over his chest.

"I noticed you too," she whispers back before moving closer to snuggle him. His heart is finally thumping in his chest, right under her cheek – from the late exercise or their closeness, she can't tell. A heavy arm goes around her, pressing her further into the nook of his armpit.

"You remind me of one of my knives," he says while holding her close.

Oh good God…

"You are a butterfly knife girl."

"Oh?"

"Ja. Small and cute and a lot of fun. And I can't get enough of you."

So much for getting rid of the man after getting some d. God, what was wrong with her? Any other woman would have put up some boundaries, perhaps gotten a restraining order by now.

"Is it… a good knife?" Her voice comes out as an annoying squeal, and he pulls her closer, ever closer.

"I mainly use it for playing."

She wets her lips in an attempt to calm herself, to comfort herself. She’s just another plaything for a murderer whose hunger seems endless, even if he’s more civil now. Still, she fears this man is only after sex and violence. Her little dresses and petite lingerie won't stand a chance against such brutality.

"What knife are you…?"

"Classic Glock field knife. Tall and ugly."

Behind the thin veil of indifference, there's pride. It borders on arrogance. She catches a dash of bitterness, too: field knives don't pair well with butterflies, perhaps.

"König, you're not ugly," she breaks their odd cuddle to look at him. "This sounds like a trustworthy knife to me."

He looks back at her with an even warmer tinge to the glacier of his eyes.

"It is. You cannot hope for a more loyal blade."

Her gaze drops somewhere in the darkness of his shirt. He's pledging himself for the second time to her, and it causes another storm inside her head. There's warmth on her cheeks, too.

"You are cute when you blush," he observes with pleased tranquility.

Perhaps... Perhaps he doesn't want to hurt things he finds cute.

Perhaps he will take care of them, like he takes care of his knives.

It still takes some getting used to that he allows his hood to be lifted just enough to push his tongue inside her mouth or pussy but taking it off to show his face is too much. She is lying there with him in an odd post-coital dream, thoroughly naked while he's still fully dressed. But she doesn't feel cold, not when pressed against his blazing form like this.

"Did you nick my underwear?" She asks out of the blue, and the hand stroking her waist stops in the middle of an idle caress.

"I might have," he admits without a single ounce of remorse in his voice.

"König… That's not cool," she says, knowing he can hear the lack of scolding in her voice.

"You want them back?"

"I… Gosh. Yes, that would be nice."

What a pervert.

"Or... Nevermind. Keep them," she sighs, trying to brush off the fact that the underwear in question wasn't even clean. "Do you steal women's underwear often?"

"No. Just yours."

A laugh meant to convey her shock is far too laced with joy to make it clear that she finds his deeds preposterous. She simply fails at every turn in trying to express that she's a decent woman. He knows it now, probably saw it long ago; that she's the perfect cheval glass to his perversions.

The hand on her hips moves to caress her thigh, and the drowsy stare observes her with growing mischief.

"Ready to go again?"

"Whuh–Again…?"

He takes her hand and moves it right over his cock. It's lean and demanding, and pulses under her palm.

Tall and ugly, she thinks while her walls dare to throb with hunger.

"You make me hard," he says, almost as a whisper, "all the time."

Jesus… There was definitely no rulebook when it came to this guy.

She gets to watch from the bed how he gives her a show as the man finally decides it's time to take his clothes off. The shirt is the first one to go: it flies somewhere on the floor while he holds on to his hood. The sculpted muscle looks even bigger up close, and the plates are covered with thin hair. It runs thicker below the navel, and his thighs are pure power: they surround the sleek length of his cock like trunks of strength when he finally gets himself out of those pants.

The v-shape of his upper body is something she will never get over. Broad shoulders shrink and curve into narrow hips which in turn swell into powerful thighs, and while perhaps this guy wouldn't win the gold medal at a fitness competition – judged by the way he's lean and athletic but not low fat ripped – he certainly is the most beautiful man she has ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. He's a demigod with his herculean strength, a titan who's too big for the world of mortals. A tormented Samson who will never be tamed with treachery or tricks.

The bed sags as he crawls back to her like the gentlest predator. Her legs open wide to receive him – a classic missionary feels like the most intimate choice after the faceless pounding she received earlier. He gathers her legs as he proceeds: forces them up, up, almost next to her arms until he's hovering over her exposed pussy.

She should've known that some boring missionary wouldn't satisfy this man at all.

Her eyes drop to her legs and what's between them: she's in no position to do much of anything, but as the tip of his cock – smooth, pristine velvet – slides across her wet folds once more, she rather helplessly tries to drive her hips up to meet him.

It's like she's drunk or in a dream. The scene is wild and filthy: she's plump and spread open, ready for the taking, thighs almost in her ears as he draws his hips back and finds her opening.

"Please be gentle," she begs with a whisper. He halts for a while to lock gazes with her rabbit stare.

"You are pretty when you beg, little one. But I would never hurt you."

She swallows, and her lips part – his gaze instantly falls on her mouth, then raises back to her eyes, gentle and painstakingly ardent. He's close, so terribly close – and not just physically. Her thighs quiver with anticipation as the thick velvet slides in.

Holy fuck–

She savors the spread, and he's gentle, like he promised. The groan that erupts from inside the hood above makes her walls ache. He's so merciful this time, and she wishes to lift the black veil that still keeps them apart, to see his face as he takes her, to see that scar on his jaw and how his mouth hangs open with hunger, just like hers…

His cock comes out all wet – she can hear it – before plunging right back in, and it makes her mewl.

"Oh God…" Her eyes shut tight from the sensation of being so filled. She's even more starved than she thought. It's scary, far scarier than the mass murderer above and inside her.

"You like that?"

He's breathing heavy, and she knows he's looking at her, the distorting face of pleasure, the way she's biting her lip. Tears try to force themselves out from the passionate, featherbrained proximity, from being so tightly knitted together, like a bunch of happy, overstimulated nerves.

"Look at me," he orders, and she opens her eyes like they're under his command and not hers.

"You like it like this?"

She nods with tears in her eyes, and he won't stop looking at her like she's his most prized possession.

"Gut. I will make you scream again."

The man's dreamy stare follows every twitch of a lip, every bat of an eyelash. She looks down briefly to escape that love – the sight of the long thickness disappearing in her while she is so crudely open for him makes her feel dizzy, even when she's lying down.

Some pillow princess…

"Sehr schön," he comments while watching her face which must look like that of a dumb, anesthetized doll. His cock has that effect, and now that he's hovering over her, staring into her soul while filling her, it makes everything even more painful because it's sweet. She's under lazy waves, and decent men seem the most boring thing on earth right now.

"You like my knives?"

"Ah–what…?"

"You stared when I played with my knife."

She knows he has caught her staring more than once and bites her lip again not to blurt out how she had stared when he had played with... other things as well.

"Mh, yeah… It was beautiful."

"You're beautiful."

The sudden waves of intimacy leave her fragile and weak. His stare is nothing short of a caress. She is open and helpless for him to pound to his heart's content, but he's gentle, bordering on loving...

"I can teach you how to play with them."

Jesus Christ, this dude is just crazy.

"Uh-huh," she agrees to it with her mouth hanging open from the overload of sensation. The lewd sound of his cum pushing out of her with every thrust is an obscene background music for this – or any – conversation.

"I have a collection."

Why the hell would he be talking about his knife collection in the middle of–

"I own at least fifty knives. I can show you all of them if you come to my room."

His gaze is at least as piercing as his cock, and she realizes how serious this is: knives are his life. He finds them beautiful too, he collects them and cares for them. They're a profession, but they're also the most important thing in his world.

Knives are his essence.

And he had likened her to a butterfly knife...

"S-sure."

The sound from where they are joined rises to a sluggish crescendo: drowsy, filthy claps of flesh on soaked flesh. He makes her sick and well at the same time: he drags her to hell and raises her to heaven. He's the remedy and the curse. He plays with her like he plays with his knives: ravenous, entranced, obsessed.

She tries to concentrate on too many things at once: that intoxicating voice, the memory of him playing with death, the cock plunging inside her over and over again, making warmth pool below. She imagines him killing people with his collection, picking his tool for the day. He's not the only lunatic here because even the very thought makes her tight around him.

"You are close?"

"König… Just–" she whispers on the cusp of a deeper, soul-rending orgasm.

"You like it when I talk about knives?"

She breathes laboriously and tries to hang onto the last bits of her sanity, but he knows her, knows her already. He weighs down on her until her thighs come to rest right next to her breasts. He's plowing her in a crude angle, indecent and deep. It's vulgar, and she loves it; loves the way he stares at her, all helpless under him.

"Please, I'm gonna–"

"I can show you my guns too."

Ohmygod–

"I'm gonn–ah–!"

She shatters, her walls clench; her pussy sucks him like he's hard candy.

“Sieh dir das an… You were made for me.”

"Nh– Please…"

Her head tosses on the pillow as if in a dream. She's fathomless, and going to pass out, the cock inside her makes her eyes roll back in her head until she sees white, the color of saints.

"Shy girl… Beg for it."

The voice that answers his command is not that of a shy girl; it's not hers at all. She hears it from underwater, and her reality consists solely of the man filling her, spreading her, transforming her from an angel into something deliciously wicked.

Please, just–

It's not her voice, and yet it does sound everything like her. It begs, mewls a plea after the other in a string of helpless little whimpers.

Don't stop, please pleaseplease…

"Besser als jedes Messer…" he rasps, more darkly now. "You drive me crazy, Engel."

A chant arises in her head: she has sinned and there's no turning back. He feels far better than any promise of heaven. She could never have guessed that being cast out would feel so good.

His release comes with a tight rip, he goes taut like in that shower, only ten times more desperate. The hiss under the hood turns into a pained, strained roar of a grunt. The first time was foreplay, a quick one: this is true release. She almost hopes she would faint as the whole body of the Austrian titan goes hard as a rock. She couldn't be more spent and used, and still, her pussy answers his godly essence by clenching around him, pulling him in like he's the best man there is.

The man of her dreams, the man from her worst nightmares...

His eyes are liquid, the waterline twitches. She sees behind the walls, a millisecond's worth of fragility before his head drops, and the muscles are released from the violent trance. Broad shoulders cage her in like she's suddenly deep inside a mountain pass. Spent and dead and gone, there's no hurry any longer: he is buried deep inside and throbs whatever leftovers he has to give her.

She's filled to the brim, crushed under his weight, banished: and it's only delicious, the feeling of her body disappearing somewhere in the depths of the bed he has plowed her into. She waits dutifully as the man gathers himself, even gets brave enough to touch him. The masked face is buried somewhere in her neck, and his stomach ripples with a few shivers as her hand runs down his spine.

"I want to do this every day," he declares softly while panting through the thick fabric of his self-made shield. She feels pure horror and thrill in her chest.

To do this every day… She will eventually break, like a toy that has been used too much. She's not made of steel like those butterfly knives used mainly for playing.

"König, this is crazy… We're crazy," she tries to put into words the unholy mess raging inside her. He snorts before releasing her from the absurd position. The weight of him leaves her empty as he pulls out, then drags his way beside her to gather her back into his arms.

"Don't be ashamed, little one," he coos through the mask. "You don't have to pretend with me."

Two rounds of intense sex have liberated him, the manic terror has turned into a strange compassion. The look in his eyes is magnanimous and tender, almost droopy. She feels weightless and timid, an angel once more.

"We belong together, you and I," he states with conviction that sends sweet dread inside her heart. "Don't worry. You will never be lonely again."

Her fate is sealed, and she fears a big, fat knife will cut her heartstrings too if she tries to escape his protection. Her jaw trembles at the prospect of him returning to her every day to fuck her bare after an adrenaline high on the field. She sees a future of tears and sweat and cum, a beast lulled into sleep amidst a withering sea of flowers and torn lace.

She tries to find the right words, hopes he will be swift and merciful in his execution.

König, please…

It's not the hood, it's–

"Everyone fears me," he sighs beside her. "I'm glad you don't."

[nostalgicmiscellaneous]

I was reflecting on Violet's talk about Colin's sensitive nature and made me think that truly he's a bit of a loner in their home, isn't him? It's like he is the one that needs to keep on trying and when he does something for himself, he's questioned, belittled or ignored. When Colin was thinking that he should marry and forge his own way, to be taken serious, he told Violet exactly that, Anthony shut him down by simply saying he should have taken him to brothels... and there you go, folks, where Colin's example of how a single man should behave comes from. He thought courting a girl everyone wanted was him being taken serious but the brother he admires, told him that, and made he believe that's what a man of their position should behave at his age. So Maybe if he does, if he acts like them, he's going to find his own path & find his own happiness, he thinks. When Colin travels, he keeps writing home, wanting to communicate with his family and loved to hear back from them, and also because he really loves to write - and is good at it -, but they rarely if ever ( some) do. And that's why he was always happy that Pen did, as he was mostly ignored and even mocked for that, they were being quite dismissive of him. We know how he also doesn't truly feel like he belongs and that's one of the reasons he went away, run away. Sure, he loves to travel but we know it's also to free himself of the whole 'Colin Bridgerton' he thinks he should be. When Colin tries to make something, do business of his own, but is something out of his depth as he was never prepared for it - Anthony was the heir to the title and older, likely was taught by his father some things already and maybe Colin and Benedict would too but had no time and Anthony never guided him that way, it seems - he was screamed at and, once again, thought he had truly no purpose. Losing his father way younger than Anthony was a huge trauma too. As much as Violet is a good mother, in that context, losing his father put him without a fundamental support and counsel a young men would need at that time, specially on his late teens and young men years. Still, he's very sweet, a soft guy who worries about his family, just look at every situation that he truly is there wanting to support, a romantic and quite naive in the matters of emotions. A kind guy who always wants to make others happy and defend people when he thinks they are being taken advantage of, were wronged or need his help just to feel happy. And yet the only person that actually has always ever done that for him, in every aspects - attention, protection, love, interest and engaging on his life -, is Pen, his kindred spirit.

[iamasimperyk]

Jealous -Rafe Cameron

Summary: You are Rafe's younger girlfriend and he introduces you to his family.

Warnings: Age gap, fluff, angst, judgy people, English is not my first language, not proofread

Pairing: Older!Rafe x Younger!Reader

A.N; I honestly don't know what this is. I had an idea but somehow, I couldn't find the right words to make it really work.

Your parents introduced him to you at Midsummers. Rafe Cameron, son of Ward Cameron and new owner of every one of his father's companies. 

The first time his eyes found yours, he knew he had to have you, and you were naive enough to fall for his charm. He was almost ten years older than you, and for the first time in your life, you felt safe. You knew Rafe cared for you, always wanting what was best for you. 

"Don't you think it's too much?" You asked Rafe, wearing a fancy dress he just bought and all kinds of expensive jewellery he gifted you whenever he had the chance. 

Rafe looked at you, all dolled up for him. He loved it, and he loved to show you off, "You look amazing, darling. Everybody will be jealous that I get to call you mine."

Rafe's family decided to throw a party when they learned that Rafe finally found a girlfriend. You were excited to meet everyone since Rafe has met every person in your family.

"I just hope they like me," You smiled up at him, your eyes shining brightly.

He cupped your face with his hands, kissing your forehead, "I am going to marry you one day, no matter what they say."

You didn't say anything, but Rafe knew what you thought. Quickly, you reached up and kissed him before you ran back into the bathroom.

----

When the two of you arrived, everybody stared at you. Rafe wrapped his arm around you and started to introduce you to his family members. 

After an hour of talking, you excused yourself, trying to find the toilet, when you heard a group of women talking about you.

"I mean, is she even legal yet?" One of them laughed.

"I bet she is just with him because he is rich. She will never have to lift a finger since he already owns a fortune." Another one answered, shaking her head.

The whole group let out a laugh, "She will probably be pregnant soon, so he is tied to her and won't leave her again."

You didn't want to hear another of their theories and walked back to Rafe as fast as possible.

When Rafe saw you, his face immediately softened, and he wrapped his arm around your waist once again. One of the things he always did was touch you in some way. He needed to feel you to make sure you are still here.

"Are you okay, love?" Rafe asked as soon as he saw your facial expression.

You nodded, "Of course, I am fine, don't worry."

Rafe turned his attention back to his sister, whom he had previously talked to, "Would you excuse us."

Before she could answer, he pulled you into an empty room, waiting for you to start talking.

You couldn't keep your face straight anymore, and your eyes filled with tears. 

Rafe felt angry, frustrated and helpless as he saw you crying. Someone dared hurt his precious girl. 

"Darling, please tell me what happened," Rafe said, hugging you tightly while stroking your hair.

After a few more minutes, you calmed down and told Rafe about the conversation you listened to.

"Fuck them. They are jealous because they are not as beautiful as you and were at least married twice." He rolled his eyes, still fuming on the inside.

Rafe took you home immediately after your conversation and showed you just how much he loved you. 

Maybe you were younger than him, but you were one of the most mature people he ever met.

[aryxchse]

percy doesn't know.

— leo valdez x daughter of poseidon! reader.

inspired from the song ;; scotty doesn't know by lustra

summary ;; percy is oblivious about leo fucking his sister at every chance he gets.

warnings ;; nsfw stuff i guess, no full smut though. percy is being oblivious as hell, reader is sneaky and leo's a little bastard <3

a / n ;; wish my english was good enough to actually write some good smut, but please don't kill me because i just implied it 👐🏻 OH and they're aged up, obvi.

Percy doesn't know that y/n and me

Do it in my cabin every Sunday

She tells him she's in lake but she doesn't go

Still she's on her knees and Percy doesn't know

y/n l/n, percy jackson's precious little sister. she was only a year younger than him, but he still acted like she was a baby. he tried to protect her at all costs and sweared that he would kill anyone who looked at her wrong.

and when she told him that she was dating with leo, he couldn't help but get even more protective. but he did not have the right to say something, because he was happily in love with annabeth. and y/n just wanted to live that kind of love too, she deserved it.

so when she told him she was going to lake, to swim and meditate a little, he believed her. she was too soft and naive to do something secretly behind him anyways. at least, that's what percy told to himself.

little did he didn't know was that y/n, was going to bunker 9.

"finally," leo breathed out when he saw his perfect girlfriend y/n. "thought percy didn't let you be alone."

y/n smiled mischiefly as she approached to him, already seeing him hard. it looked like it hurt, and she would do anything to make her sweet boyfriend satisfied. "doesn't matter, i'm here right? let me help you with that." she said, pointing his arousal.

leo only smirked when she got down to her knees.

I can't believe he's so trusting

While I'm right behind you thrusting

y/n's got him on the phone

And she's trying not to moan

"h-hi, perce. what's up?" she said, trying to hold her voice stable.

she wasn't going to open the phone, really. but leo, being a little shit he is, insisted. appearently he wanted to see how much his girlfriend was capable of holding herself.

besides, leo was too heated at the moment that he didn't even cared when percy called. she was close, he was close, they were so close to having the feeling of paradise. percy would enter the room and leo would still keep pounding into her, that's how hot he was. he couldn't stop.

leo bited back a laugh, thrusting into her more. he bended her over at his working table, the metal stuff throwed on the ground long ago. she tried to scratch the table but of course, failed.

"no, thank you i don't want anything." she said, arching her back more as leo kept his speed. she was so close to exploding that she was afraid she wouldn't be able to muffle her moans like she did now.

percy was on a date with annabeth at the amusement park and he was catching some plushies now. and he knew how his sister loved plushies, especially sea creature themed ones. "well, m-maybe you can get the shark one, thanks perce." she said, tears rolling down as her voice shaked a bit.

"okay, love you too. kiss annabeth for me." she said before hanging up, and releasing herself with a loud cry. she screamed all of the voices she kept inside while she hit her orgasm, panting on leo's desk. it didn't take much longer for leo to cum after her, a breathless chuckle leaving his lips.

"you did so well, princesa." he panted, kissing her back.

I did her on his birthday

percy doesn't know

percy doesn't know

percy doesn't know

it was august 18th, percy's birthday. everyone of their friends were invited, so it was normal for leo being there too.

the house was full of people, that percy couldn't even look or talk with his sister more than two minutes. everyone congratulated him on his new age and how handsome he turned out. bla, bla, bla.

y/n wore a white skirt with a blue crop top that leo got her at her birthday. he didn't said anything while he handed it to her, but the low neckline was making her boobs look gorgeous. and he don't even mention of how hot that top looked with that skirt.

leo held her hand as he whispered in her ear. "i need you, right now." he whispered in a desperate tone, a tone she couldn't say no to.

"leo we can't— the house is too crowded and-" leo kissed her neck secretly, only making her squirm under his touch. "that's why no one would notice." he whispered in her ear.

percy was talking with annabeth when he saw y/n taking leo's hand and dragging him to somewhere. "y/n!" he called, making the couple turn around.

"w-what's up?" she asked, trying to sound not too panicked. percy didn't noticed, thanks to gods. "where are you two going?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. which annabeth was going to be mad at him for it later.

"i gotta pee man, and she's leading me to the bathroom." leo explained, hiding behind her so that percy won't see his boner. percy was going to say something, but was intrupted by annabeth.

"okay then, we wouldn't want leo to pee in his pants on your birthday, right babe?" annabeth asked, not caring if percy was going to answer or not. and not waiting for it either. "but-" percy tried to say.

"great! be quick though, we're about to give him his presents." annabeth said like she knew, she winked to the couple. y/n gave her a warm smile, in a way only she could understand what she meant behind it. thank you, you're the best!

annabeth dragged percy to the kitchen while the couple got upstairs, making out the moment they entered the bathroom.

a / n ;; thanks for reading, you really survived to here fr 🫶🏻

[alottiegoingon]

golden rule

lucy maclean x gn!reader

summary: you become lucy's only friend in wasteland.

warnings: weapon usage/mentions, brief blood mention, wasteland and life outside the vault, lucy is naive and oblivious at first and a hot mess later, mostly just fluff, golden retriever lucy & black cat reader type of shit, kinda enemies/strangers to secret in lover with each other, reader is hot i wanna date them but also a loser if you see through them, no nsfw, not proofread

"just give it a thought, alright? we could help each other."

"why would i want you for a company? no offense, princess, but i don't associate with vault dwellers." you take a look at her from head to toes, studying the details in her jumper. despite how cool her pistol looked attached to her belt like that, the yellow and blue choice was kind of goofy, you thought.

you can see the excitement in her eyes disappearing as she hears you and you almost felt sorry for her. almost. "okay, ouch." she tilts her head, crossing her arms. in a second, her dramatic act gave place to a smug smile. "oh, i know! what if i help you to find the head?"

even your own bitterness left your soul as you hear her. you pause for a moment, searching for any sign of unseriousness in her face. maybe it was just a bad joke? but then, she keeps staring at you with those huge eyes and a not so subtle smile, proud of what she had said.

"i'm sorry, a head? you mean someone's head?" you frown. "i don't know what you vault people think of us but i'm not a monster." you weren't really offended, but seeing the panic in her face was actually princeless.

"what? no, no! i was just- everyone wants that head and i thought you-" she starts to ramble, not wanting to offend you. her beam went away as fast as it reached her face. you almost felt bad for her twice in a row now.

you couldn't hold yourself back anymore and allowed a smirk to creep onto your lips. she immediately stopped talking and, even though she exhaled relief, you knew that deep down she wanted to kill you but was too kind for that.

"oh. you were messing with me. funny." she gives you a forced dry laugh. it was actually annoying how she tried to be so nice all the time.

as a response, you give her a nonchalant wry smile. "anyway. i'm not looking for a dog right now, so..." you sigh, reaching for the heavy backpack on the floor and sliding it onto your shoulders. "but good luck with the head or whatever it means." you wink at the stranger and turn around to leave.

"wait! please." she grabs your wrist before you could take the first step and in response, you turn around again impatiently, glancing down at her tight grip on your skin. it takes her a while to realize that she's still holding you but as soon as she does, she immediately looks at your wrist as well and let go of it. "sorry." she whispers.

you were ready to interrupt her but, curiously, you felt bad when seeing how insanely desperate she was. it wouldn't hurt to just hear what the had to say, right?

"i've been having a rough week, okay? everyone i've met tried to kill me, except for you. a weird..." she pauses, thinking "robot, or whatever, tried to harvest my organs out and i had to cut someone's head off. and i may not be the strongest or the most experienced person but i can learn!" she was truly putting on her best show while you stood in front of her completely unbothered. at least, you liked to think that you were a complete fearless and tough person. "just... please?"

against all odds, you didn't deny it immediately. and, if you didn't deny it immediately, you knew what it meant. fuck, when did you become such a softie? it could be, of course, the way her hair looked pretty even in a messy ponytail or how the cut on her lip made her look so incredibly ho-

"okay, fine. whatever." that idiot creepy huge smile of hers spread on her face again before you could even finish. "listen up, i'm not done." you roll your eyes. "we'll do things my way, get it? you speak when i speak, you shoot when i shoot, you walk when i walk." you take steps closer to her while you talk. firm, hoarse and assertive tone. you stop when you feel the tip of her nose almost touching yours, keeping the steady the eye contact intact. you were so busy initimidating her that you don't even notice when she hold her breath.

"you are my shadow." you reach up for her face, cupping her chin with your thumb and index finger, forcing her to look back at you. "you don't exist unless i tell you to. do you understand me?" you stated with a piercing gaze.

you thought it was impossible for her eyes to get any bigger but when you step out of your scary platform, you notice her terrified expression. "okey dokey..." she nods frantically.

you gotta admit it. she didn't seem as goofy as before while paying attention to you so devotedly like that. even when still wearing that ridiculous jumper.

eventually, you realize that your eyes were betraying you by staring at her for a little too long. you clean your throat, trying to cover that up. "good. let's go now. we can't stay here forever." you step back and start to walk away, not even waiting for her to join you.

you hear her hasty footsteps getting closer as she tries to catch up to you until she finally shares your pace. "i'm lucy, by the way. lucy maclean." she held her head high, corners of her mouth going up again. god, she smiled a lot.

"good for you. i'm still gonna call you princess, though."

"not to brag, cause that would be impolite of me, but i found a really cool place when i was looking for a river this morning." lucy's smiling from ear to ear and excitedly rocking from side to side is the first thing you see when you open your eyes after a tough night of sleep.

a week had passed since you met lucy. no matter how tough you considered yourself to be, lucy was persistent, charming, sweet and funny enough to make her way to your heart and you knew that you were doomed. deep down, you were suspicious that she knew that as well.

"why are you always so happy?" you groan, rubbing your eyes. unlike lucy, you were not a morning person. or a night person. or any time of the day person.

"good morning to you too, sunshine!"

you are forced to get up, not being actually opposed to it, and take a short sip from your last water bottle. maybe taking a look at lucy's oh so great place would be useful.

"okay then. let's do it, princess." you use your hands to brush the remains of sand and dust out of your pants but lucy's cute giggle prevents you from heading out of the shelter you had found.

lucy approaches you with her usual polite and sweet grin and you unconsciously flinch as she stops just a few inches from you and touch you. predictable, she was gentle while brushing the top of your hair with her fingers, fixing the bundle of messy strands that merged together while you were sleeping and added a funny volume to your head. you follow every move of her with darting eyes and an uncontrollable urge to admire her green eyes focused on your hair and reddish parted lips.

"there you go. pretty as always." lucy coos and before withdrawing herself, her fingers slid down by a few inches and casually tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. for the first time in ages, you froze.

thankfully, lucy didn't seem to notice how affected you were by her innocent act. "thanks." you whispered in a ridiculously soft grin and followed her out of the shelter.

"why do you have a gun if you don't like using it? that's stupid." you tease lucy while you two walked side by side, following the train track to the place she had mentioned.

"i do use it. just when i have no other option. you know, because of the golden rule." she shrugs, proudly, proceeding to explain it to you.

you really tried to not care or call it dumb, but instead, you snorted in amusement. "you are way too naive, you know that?"

a dilapidated house.

lucy's incredible and cool place was nothing but a whole junk. everything was falling apart and, judging by how empty it was, many others were there before you.

"it looked cool from the outside..." she explains herself while scratching the back of her neck.

you were strong. firm. scary and ruthless even. you would shove a knife on anybody's throat if they wasted your time like that, especially after a terrible night of sleep. but, again, it wasn't anybody. it was her.

so, funny or not, you laughed.

"god, you are such a terrible explorer." you take a quick peek at her with the corner of your eyes, wearing an idiotic and foolish smirk on your lips.

"i am not!" her jaw drops and her voice sounds whinier as she defends herself but giggle along with you, not feeling scared to be vulnerable and fully stare at you.

you didn't have to answer to that. all you did was look back and forth at her and the house, proving your point.

"okay, you got me there." she looks down, dramatically pouting and pretending to feel so insulted. "but at least i made you smile. looks good on you." lucy's lips twitch in a shy grin.

"maybe i should smile more, then. if you like it." you boldly murmur, surprised at yourself for saying that. you could swear that lucy's face got almost entirely red but you didn't have enough time to appreciate it or figure if it was real.

"look at those cute lovebirds. love has returned to wasteland, gentlemen." a tall, sturdy middle-aged man mocks you to two other creepy looking guys. one was even missing an eye. in two seconds, you were able to count how many weapons they had and your first thought was the possibility of lucy getting hurt.

you quickly stood in front of her, shielding her from any kind of possible danger.

everthing happened too fast after that. all you remember is denying their offer to take your backpacks with the remains of food and water you had and all of your weapons.

everything went black for a second as your body hit the ground. you slowly manage to get on your knees and look around but lucy isn't there and you are trapped. you feel a sharp pain as you breathe in and a drop of blood hits your pants. you shudder at the moment you cautiously feel your cheek, warm to the touch and stinging like you were poked by a thousand needles. your fingertips carefully drop to your mouth and you hiss as you touch the wide cut on your swollen lower lip.

you notice the crisp click of the gun's trigger being released and you look up, expecting to see the weapon pointed at your head. instead, you see the men with their hands above their heads.

"get away from them!" lucy's voice fills your ears and you turn your head back to find her with a huge weapon in hands pointed at the strangers. she takes a quick glance at you and you see the anger inside her overflow as she notices your wounds.

"i'm gonna count to three and i want your ugly, filthy and miserable roaches out of my face or... or i'll shoot!" judging by her tone, you can easily notice how nervous she is even though she's trying her best to actually stand up for you.

and the thought of being protected by someone made your heart flutter. you weren't bothered by the aching pain in your lip when you found yourself proudly smiling at her.

the big guy seemed to notice the tension in her voice and took a step closer to you. you could only imagine how badly he had regretted that as soon as a loud bang echoed through the entire house and his foot was hanging by a thread, quite too literally.

"oh, golly..." lucy mutters with widen eyes. you follow her shock with a gasp that was completely muffled by the loud and agonized screech.

"don't make me repeat myself! all of you out, now!" she yells, threatening them by aiming the gun at them once more. "if that's okay with you, please." the scary expression in her face swiftly changed to a well-mannered and soft grin.

the injured men is rushedly dragged out by the other two, not looking back and you can not believe that someone as adorable looking as lucy was the one to broke her dear rule and hurt people.

"thank you! t-take care." she waves at them innocently, still with the gun in hands before running to you.

[apollogeticx]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ SAY YES TO HEAVEN ♡·˚

— [♡] ; a love bloomed between shy smiles and whispered dreams ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: mutual attraction, afab!reader, really slow burn, fluff, platonic with romantic undertones, thoughtful gifts, shy reader, secret feelings, subtle romance.

wc. 4.2K

Valentine’s Day had crept into the corridors of Jujutsu High, its atmosphere hanging over the students like an unseen presence. You could feel it in the air: the quiet giggles, the exchanged glances, and the whispers of confessions planned and second-guessed. It was a day most people approached with either excitement or dread, and as for you? You weren't sure where you stood.

As you shuffled through the hallway, your gaze dropped to the small envelope in your hand. A simple thing, unassuming but painstakingly crafted. The edges were a bit uneven, showing the hours you'd spent folding and refolding until the paper threatened to tear. Inside was a note, brief and clumsy, but filled with the nervous affection you had been bottling up for so long.

You had never been one for grand gestures. In fact, your time at Jujutsu High had been mostly spent avoiding attention altogether. But something about this year, this day, felt different. Maybe it was the fact that you were nearing the end of your time as Gojo’s student. Maybe it was because, despite all his arrogance, Gojo Satoru had always been kind to you in his own strange way—lifting your spirits with teasing words, ruffling your hair when you were feeling down, or giving you that devastatingly bright smile that made you weak at the knees.

Even though you always kept your feelings hidden beneath layers of shyness, they had slowly grown into something you couldn’t ignore anymore. And so, you had decided to take a leap, a quiet leap—but a leap nonetheless.

The letter was short, with simple words.

Sensei,

I don’t know how to say this, but you’ve made these past years so much brighter. Even though you tease me relentlessly, you’ve also made me feel safe and valued. I look up to you—more than you know. I hope that you’ll continue being that blinding light in all our lives.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

P.S. Don’t make fun of me too much when you read this.

A flush of embarrassment flooded your cheeks as you reread the lines in your head. It wasn’t exactly a love letter, but it wasn’t not a love letter either. It was as close as you could bring yourself to confessing.

Now came the hard part. Slipping the letter into Gojo Satoru’s pile of Valentine’s gifts.

You weren’t naive. You knew he would receive dozens, maybe even hundreds of presents today. Gojo, with his ridiculous charm and his never-ending self-confidence, attracted attention like a magnet. Surely, your small envelope would go unnoticed in the sea of extravagant gifts, chocolates, and flowers that would line his desk. And yet… a part of you hoped, a small whisper in the back of your mind, that maybe—just maybe—he would notice.

You reached his classroom, hesitating at the door. Peeking inside, you could see it already—there was a mountain of gifts on Gojo’s desk. Boxes of chocolates, neatly wrapped bouquets, and cards that probably read far bolder words than yours ever would. You swallowed thickly, heart hammering in your chest.

It’s just a letter, you told yourself. Just leave it and go.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

Gathering what little courage you had left, you took a deep breath and hurried over to the pile. You slipped the letter between two larger boxes, making sure it was tucked safely out of view—small, but not invisible. Then, without looking back, you turned on your heel and fled from the classroom, your face burning with embarrassment.

The rest of the day passed in a haze. You attended your classes, avoided Gojo as much as possible, and tried not to think about the letter. But as the day drew to a close, you found yourself stealing glances at him during the last class.

Gojo Satoru, as usual, was sitting at the front of the room with his blindfold in place, looking as casual and relaxed as ever. He didn’t seem any different, no hint of having read your letter or even noticing your presence at all. Your stomach churned with a mixture of relief and disappointment.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the day, and you quickly gathered your things. Before you could escape, however, Gojo’s voice cut through the noise of the room.

“Hey, you.”

You froze in place, heart leaping to your throat as you turned slowly to face him. He was leaning back in his chair, blindfold still covering his eyes, but there was something in his posture, something in the way he tilted his head that made you think his eyes were sparkling beneath the fabric.

“I got something interesting today,” he said lazily, holding up a small envelope—your envelope.

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes widened. He hadn’t just found it. He had noticed it.

Gojo's smile was unmistakable. "Did you really think I'd miss this?"

Your face burned as his words lingered in the air. He was waiting for you to respond, his teasing tone making your pulse race. What could you possibly say now? Your heart pounded loudly in your ears as you tried to find the words.

“I… I just thought—” you stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence.

Gojo let out a soft laugh, pushing himself up from his chair and strolling toward you. When he stopped in front of you, you barely had the nerve to look up, but you could feel his presence towering over you.

“It’s cute,” he said, holding the letter up. "And bold. I didn’t expect that from you.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, though his teasing tone still sent you into a panic. You were about to retreat into your usual shell, your shy nature ready to flee, when he leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to you too, kid."

With that, he ruffled your hair and walked past you, leaving you standing there in stunned silence, your heart still racing. You had no idea what to make of his response, but one thing was certain—you had taken a step. Maybe a small one, but still a step closer to Gojo Satoru.

A month had passed since Valentine's Day, and the quiet thrill of that day had faded into the background of your mind, leaving only a lingering warmth whenever you thought about the letter. Now, it was White Day—a day where those who received gifts or confessions on Valentine's Day returned the gesture. The tradition wasn't as loud at Jujutsu High, where battles with curses tended to overshadow romantic celebrations, but that didn't stop some students from participating.

You had tried not to think about it. After all, Gojo Satoru was the kind of person who attracted gifts like a magnet. You were certain that today, like Valentine’s Day, he’d be flooded with presents. As for you, you expected nothing in return—your letter, while meaningful to you, had been a small drop in the ocean of his admirers. You had already convinced yourself not to be disappointed if nothing came of it.

Still, a quiet hope flickered in your chest. White Day had a different kind of energy. It was a day for thoughtfulness, for genuine reciprocation.

When you entered the classroom, you quickly noticed Gojo sitting at his usual spot at the front, casually leaning against the desk. His blindfold was in place, but you could sense the mischief radiating off him. There was something different about the way he carried himself today—more relaxed, yet sharper, as if he was waiting for something.

Class passed in a blur, your mind too preoccupied with thoughts of whether he had even remembered your letter. Every now and then, you caught Gojo tilting his head toward you, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

Finally, as the last bell of the day rang and students began filing out, Gojo’s voice cut through the soft hum of chatter.

“Hey. Don’t run off just yet.”

You blinked, freezing in place. His voice was playful, but there was an unmistakable command behind it. The other students glanced curiously at you before heading out of the classroom, leaving you alone with Gojo.

He didn’t move from his spot but watched as you nervously approached him. Your heart was hammering in your chest, the same nervous energy you’d felt on Valentine’s Day now bubbling up once again. You kept your gaze low, trying to avoid showing how flustered you were.

“Do you know what today is?” he asked, voice as casual as ever.

“...White Day,” you murmured, glancing up at him cautiously. He had to be teasing. There was no way he—

Gojo gave a soft chuckle and stood up, making you feel butterflies all over your tummy as he walked closer. “Right. And on White Day, we’re supposed to return something to those who gave us gifts on Valentine’s, aren’t we?”

Your breath caught in your throat as he stopped just a few feet away from you, one hand reaching into his pocket. The lighthearted smile never left his face, but his voice softened, turning almost thoughtful.

“I got a letter from you. Remember?"

Your face immediately flushed as memories of your Valentine’s letter rushed back. The quiet confession you had agonized over, the shy hope you’d tried so hard to conceal—it all felt so raw now, standing here in front of him.

Before you could even think to respond, Gojo held out his hand, and in it was a small, delicate box. It was simple, wrapped in plain white with a faint silver ribbon tied around it.

“Here,” he said, his tone almost teasing as he extended it toward you. “Consider this my return gift.”

You stared at the box, your heart pounding wildly. He was giving you something. He had remembered. Tentatively, you reached out and took it from him, your fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment. Your hands shook slightly as you untied the ribbon and carefully opened the box.

Inside was a locket—small and intricately designed, a faint silver that gleamed softly in the light. It had a simple elegance, nothing too grand, yet the craftsmanship was stunning. The locket had a small opening where you could insert a tiny photo or a memento. However, when you opened it, your breath caught in your throat.

Inside, Gojo had already placed something: his own picture.

You blinked, unable to believe what you were seeing. A tiny, smiling photo of Gojo Satoru was tucked inside the locket. It was so unexpected, so… him.

"Thought it might be a good reminder,” Gojo said, his voice softer now, and for a moment, the teasing edge faded away. “In case you ever forget who your favorite teacher is.”

You stared at the locket, speechless. The thoughtfulness behind the gift wasn’t lost on you. He could have left the locket empty, could have let you choose what to place inside. But instead, he had made sure his presence was already there, tucked inside the small, intimate space of the locket.

Gojo reached out, gently lifting the locket from your hands, his fingers brushing yours as he clasped it around your neck. The weight of it rested against your skin, light but constant—a silent reminder of him.

“There,” he said, stepping back slightly to admire his work. “Looks good on you.”

You couldn’t find your voice. A thousand emotions swirled inside you—nervousness, excitement, disbelief, and something warmer, something you hadn’t expected to feel so strongly. The gesture, though lighthearted on the surface, carried an undeniable tenderness.

Gojo tilted his head, a knowing smile playing at his lips. “Don’t overthink it,” he added, his voice returning to its playful tone. “It’s just a little something, right?”

You nodded quickly, but the blush rising on your cheeks betrayed your composure. He knew exactly what he was doing, as always.

As he turned to leave, he paused at the door, casting one last glance over his shoulder. “Keep it safe for me, yeah?”

Then, with a small wave, he disappeared into the hallway, leaving you standing alone in the empty classroom, your hand gently clutching the locket.

A locket with his picture inside.

Gojo’s words had been teasing, his tone light—but there was something beneath it, something unsaid that lingered in the air. It was just a small gesture, just a locket. But you knew, deep down, that it meant more than that. It was a door, left ajar—a quiet invitation to something more.

The mission had been simple. At least, that’s what you were told when you were assigned to exorcise a Grade 4 curse. It was supposed to be straightforward—nothing out of the ordinary for a Grade 2 like you. You’d faced worse before, so there was no reason to expect anything would go wrong.

But as you walked through the eerily quiet alleyway, the air felt off. Heavy. Almost suffocating. The curse was nearby, but something was strange about its energy. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, followed by something far stronger than what the report had indicated.

The shadows around you began to shift, and just as you turned the corner, you saw it—an ugly, grotesque creature lurking in the dark. Its eyes glowed with a malevolent hunger, but before you could react, the shadows beneath your feet rippled and surged upwards, swallowing you whole.

A sharp, disorienting tug pulled you into complete darkness, dragging you down. You barely had time to scream before the world around you twisted and distorted.

You landed with a thud in what could only be described as a shadow void. The world was pitch black, the air thick and heavy with cursed energy. Everything felt wrong, like you had been dragged into a dimension outside of reality. You tried to move, but your body felt sluggish, weighed down by the oppressive energy that surrounded you.

“Damn it…” you muttered, struggling to push yourself to your feet. Your breath was shallow, panic slowly creeping into your mind. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be a simple mission—a low-grade curse, nothing more.

As you looked around the dark void, you realized there was no clear way out. You couldn’t sense anything except the overwhelming presence of the curse that had pulled you in. Your cursed energy flickered, weak and strained under the weight of the void.

The shadows writhed around you, closing in, whispering unintelligible threats in your ears. Time seemed to blur. Minutes felt like hours. Exhaustion began to settle into your bones as your attempts to break free proved futile.

In a last, desperate attempt, you reached for the locket hanging around your neck. The one Gojo had given you on White Day. Your fingers clenched around it, and a wave of emotion washed over you—fear, hope, and the faintest sliver of comfort. Somehow, it grounded you. It reminded you that someone would come for you. He would come for you.

With a final burst of energy, you tried to send it out in a flare of cursed energy, hoping it would reach beyond the void. But just as the shadows closed in, everything went black.

At Jujutsu High, hours passed without any word from you. The school had expected you to report back long ago, but when you failed to return or send any communication, alarms were raised.

Gojo was the first to notice the unusual delay. His carefree attitude shifted the moment he sensed something was wrong. Your cursed energy, which he had always kept an eye on, had suddenly vanished. The absence of it was like a gnawing pit in his stomach.

“Where is she?” he asked, his voice unusually serious as he appeared in the principal’s office without warning.

Principal Yaga sighed, glancing at the report. “She hasn’t returned from her mission yet. It was supposed to be a simple exorcism. Grade 4.”

“Simple?” Gojo’s voice was sharp, a cold edge creeping into his usual nonchalance. “That’s not what I’m feeling. Her cursed energy’s completely gone.”

Yaga’s brows furrowed. “We’re dispatching someone to investigate. She could just be delayed—”

“I’ll go,” Gojo interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. He had been your teacher for years now, and while he kept up his usual teasing act, he had grown far too attached to ignore the nagging worry tightening in his chest.

Within minutes, Gojo was on-site, scanning the area where you were last seen. The alleyway looked normal enough, but the lingering cursed energy told him something much darker had happened here. His senses were sharp, hyper-focused as he followed the faint traces of where you had been.

It didn’t take long before he found what he had dreaded—nothing but a small silver glint on the ground. He knelt down, picking up the object, and his heart sank when he realized what it was.

Your locket.

His locket.

The same one he had gifted you on White Day, now lying abandoned in the middle of a dark alley, with no sign of you anywhere. His fingers tightened around it, his jaw clenching as he clicked it open.

Inside was the tiny picture of him he had carefully placed there—his teasing grin staring back at him.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, the weight of your disappearance hitting him like a punch to the gut. His usual calm demeanor shattered for a moment, worry replacing the playful confidence he always displayed.

Without wasting another second, Gojo’s cursed energy flared to life, his Six Eyes scanning the area with intense focus. The faintest trail of cursed energy led him toward a void—a pocket of darkness that had swallowed you whole.

“Hang on,” he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet determination.

With a flick of his hand, he expanded his infinity, creating a barrier between him and the encroaching darkness. Stepping into the void, he could feel the twisted energy pulling at him, but he pushed through, determined to find you.

The shadows pressed in from every side, but Gojo moved with purpose. He was the strongest, after all, and he wouldn’t let something like this stop him. Not when you were out there, trapped in the void.

Minutes passed, each one more agonizing than the last, but finally, after what felt like an eternity, he saw you.

You were lying on the cold, shadowy ground, unconscious, but alive. Relief flooded through him, though it was quickly followed by anger at the curse that had dared to pull you into this.

Kneeling beside you, Gojo gently cradled your form in his arms, his expression softening as he looked down at your pale face. “You really know how to get yourself into trouble, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice a mix of affection and exasperation.

He held you close for a moment, letting his warmth seep into you before he carried you out of the void. The cursed technique had been shattered by his sheer presence alone, leaving nothing but the fading remnants of the shadows behind.

Gojo quickly took you back to the school - carefully placed you in the infirmary, his fingers brushing the locket that still rested in his hand. He opened it again, staring at his own picture before slipping it back in his back pocket.

“Next time, don’t let this be the only thing I find,” he whispered softly, his lips quirking into a faint smile, though the worry in his eyes hadn’t completely faded.

As he sat by your bedside, waiting for you to wake, one thought lingered in his mind: he would never let anything happen to you again. His gaze remained fixed on your still form, his heart heavy with the weight of the moment.

Suddenly, you gasped, shooting up from the bed as your breath caught in your throat. Your vision swam, struggling to adjust to the brightness of the infirmary lights after hours spent in oppressive darkness. The soft, sterile scent of the room filled your lungs, but it did little to calm the frantic beat of your heart. The last thing you remembered was being pulled into that shadowy void, your body lost to the cold embrace of cursed energy.

Your fingers instinctively flew to your neck, reaching for the one thing that had given you comfort in those terrifying moments—the locket Gojo had given you.

But it wasn’t there.

A pang of panic shot through you as your hand met bare skin. The familiar weight of the locket was gone. Had you lost it? In that void? Your breath quickened, your mind spiraling with the thought of it being lost forever.

You tried to sit up fully, but your body was weak, drained from the cursed technique that had trapped you. Before you could push further, a familiar voice cut through the haze of your panic.

“Looking for this?”

Your head whipped toward the source of the voice, and there, standing by the side of your bed, was Gojo. His figure, so tall and effortless, leaned against the wall with his usual grin, but there was something softer in his expression. Between his fingers, he dangled the silver locket, its surface catching the light just enough to sparkle.

You let out a shaky breath of relief, your heart calming down only slightly at the sight of it.

“I-I thought I lost it…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Gojo pushed off the wall, walking closer to your bedside. His face softened, a rare sight that made your chest tighten. “I found it,” he said, his tone quieter than usual as he sat down next to you. “It was lying in the alley where you disappeared. Kinda lucky it didn’t get lost in all that mess.”

He held the locket between his fingers, studying it for a moment. Then, with a gentle motion, he reached forward and carefully clasped it back around your neck, the cool metal settling into place against your skin.

“There,” he said softly, his fingertips brushing the nape of your neck for a second longer than necessary. “Back where it belongs.”

Your fingers found the locket again, holding it tightly, as if afraid it might disappear if you didn’t. The warmth of his touch lingered, a stark contrast to the icy void you had been trapped in just hours earlier.

“I’m glad you kept it close,” Gojo continued, leaning back in his chair. “Especially with the picture I picked out for you.”

His teasing tone returned, though the affection behind it was unmistakable. You felt your cheeks heat up as you remembered the picture he had placed inside—the one of him smiling so casually, almost as if he knew exactly how much it affected you.

“It… it helped,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “In there… I felt like I wasn’t alone.”

Gojo’s expression shifted, his eyes softening in a way that made your heart skip a beat. His usual playful air was still there, but underneath it, something deeper stirred. Something protective, perhaps even possessive, lingered in the way his gaze lingered on you.

“I’m glad it did.” His voice was quieter now, more serious than you were used to. “You gave me a scare, you know? Finding just this locket and nothing else…” His hand reached out, lightly brushing the locket where it rested against your chest. “I thought I had lost you too.”

The sincerity in his words sent a shiver down your spine. For a moment, the weight of everything settled between you. The light teasing, the unspoken affection, and the bond you had developed over the years—all of it came to a head in this quiet room.

You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. The line between teacher and student felt so thin now, almost nonexistent in the face of what you had been through. And yet, the warmth in Gojo’s eyes—the way he looked at you now—made you think that perhaps, in some small way, he felt the same shift too.

“Thank you… for coming for me,” you whispered, your voice fragile but sincere.

Gojo’s smile returned, this time softer, more genuine. He reached out, ruffling your hair in a way that was both affectionate and teasing. “Of course. I always will.”

His words were simple, but the underlying promise was clear. He would always find you, no matter what, no matter where.

As he stood to leave, his fingers brushed the locket one last time, and with a small grin, he added, “Next time, let’s make sure I don’t have to find this before I find you, okay?”

You smiled weakly, nodding as your heart fluttered in your chest. The locket, with his picture inside, was back where it belonged. But as Gojo left the room, you couldn’t help but wonder if, one day, this bond between you would evolve into something even more. The thought lingered, sweet and hopeful, like the promise of something waiting just beyond the horizon.

Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday.

©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[cinememed]

₍ 🎞 ₎   the  great   (2020 – 2023)  rp  starters  ! featuring violence, explicit language & mature themes . some lines have been slightly adjusted for rp purposes .

if the crown fits ... take it.

i promised myself a great love. that didn’t work out. 

you fired something in me, and when i look at you now, i must have you again. 

i have carried a romantic idea of people all my life.

it was an act of love, not an act of betrayal.

i saw a great love as a kind of perfect love. maybe it's not.

you're delusional about people, about the world.

that is your great gift. but it's a curse as well.

we cannot change without cost, even if it is our own.

you are always seeking for me to look at reality. well, i am, and it's horrifying. 

it is a flaw for a leader to want love so much.

you don't believe in me. i've spent my life trying to get you to.. and you just don't.

the worst thing in life is to come up against your own limitations and stumble.

i can't stop loving you when you talk, it rushes me.

no morality, no philosophy, just win.

i think you have a large appetite that is not constrained by morality.

you are complicating me.

a great love, like a great country or a great leader even ... is a flawed one.

not as fun as me. because i am known for being fun.

it's .. close to enough.

you do this, and you can't come back. i mean it.

there are many versions of you, and you know i'm the only one who sees them all.

i never thought being doomed would feel so pleasant.

i am fucked. i have decided to embrace it.

sometimes you just take the next step and the path appears. 

i look at you ... and my heart breaks. for your pain. for your sorrows.

i will not live a powerless life.

i do not wish to avoid bloodshed. what part of that plan do you not understand?

sometimes i'm so clever, i have to take a breath not to become dizzy.

i think i was angry because no one has ever not liked me.

there is no other way. i am a prisoner here.

you think me more naive than i am.

we are always not quite as good as we wish.

i don't want to kill you. you're not a bad person.

i could kill you. you are a bad person.

you're so sweet sometimes, i could just kiss you on the nose.

people underestimate the joy in suffering.

it wasn't destiny that did it. i did it.

i'm not scared, and i'm not holding your hand.

you're lying, which is both out of character and really annoying.

i am as good as dead here. that's why i have nothing to lose.

i will not be at your, or anyone's whim.

i wondered what had happened to you! well, wondered might be too strong.

[exaltedfuzz]

What are your thoughts about Gant? Like, his motivations, as a characters, how much of what he does is premeditated/intentionally manipulative?

I really enjoy Gant. He's a fascinating character to me, and there's so much to say on him. I find it hard to describe him, because he's so disingenuous in how he presents himself. It's not that clear if he really means anything he says. But let's try and tackle this...

His motivations. He's self-serving. He says it outright. ("There are only three people I look out for: Me, Myself and I." - Gant)

I think this is being said slightly defensively, but it does hold up. When he kills Neil, it's to cinch the Darke case, but that can't be it. I don't remember if a concrete motive is ever given in game. I need to replay the case. However, I think this unknowable aspect to him is one thing that makes him terrifying. Beneath that jovial charisma, we know he's making Lana's life miserable. ("[withdrawing] was the only way I could make it through the past two years." - Lana) By the time we see her in RFTA, she's at the point where she's what amounts to being at least passively suicidal.

Obviously, she confesses to Bruce's murder to protect Ema through shouldering Gant's crime for him, but I can't help but feel like there's more to it than that. I think she's been incredibly worn down, overworked, and had her personal life and relationships purposefully eroded by him. Gant does whatever is convenient, and he's incredibly comfortable doing so. He outright tells Lana that he killed Bruce, without any idea that she'd tell anyone anything about it. The reason he gets caught in the end is because of her daring to tell Jake, and the whole stunt Jake pulled in the evidence room, iirc. The fact that he doesn't even consider the possibility that Lana would seek assistance kind of says a lot about what he's grown to expect from her.

I think "the legendary duo" as an idea is a crazy power imbalance. A young woman, presumably a very new detective, 24-27, and the deputy chief of police, a man in his 60s with an insane amount of power. Factoring in Lana's own circumstances, being Ema's only caretaker, and constantly falling into being the more mature one in anything interpersonal (Angel says she was always looking out for the other detectives, and that Jake couldn't have ever recovered from Neil's death without Lana's support.) it must have been nice for her to have a partnership where she was the one learning. She says that Gant "was everything [she] aspired to be", and Angel says that Lana hated anything corrupt. (I'm taking Angel's words at face value here, because Angel is shown to be very resentful towards Lana, and not likely to be giving her undue praise.) So, Lana had no idea about the kind of man he really is.

I think, therefore, that his decision to use Lana was very thought out. He knows full well that she respects him, admires his work, but more importantly, that she's nice. She's a character who seems to me like a little bit of a people pleaser. When you look at how all the characters describe what she was like, it's often about what she'd do for other people, and she comes off as being a little naive, maybe. Too private, and too passive.

I think Gant, working closely with her, and being the observant person he is, would pick up on this easily. He knows that Lana shuts up and gets on with it, but also that she's honest and earnest, and she'd need a tipping point to be able to be scared enough to be useful in furthering his career and his ego. So, at the first opportunity he has to make her sweat, when she's blinded by being terrified over whether Ema will be ok, he takes full advantage.

He also would have likely been her friend. So he'd have known she went to law school, and that she was the best. (She seems keen to brag, even in the circumstances at the start of RFTA, so I imagine she'd have been a little smug under normal circumstances). I think her earnestness that we see coming through near the end of the case, when she starts using that leaning forward sprite, would have led to her probably sharing a lot of personal things, which Gant would obviously keep in mind just in case there was ever an opportunity to use this information to his advantage.

Outside of Lana, though, he seems to be a good judge of character. In who he chooses to demote and fire, he fires Angel. He knows that Angel is the "cough-up-queen" (I found out that the Japanese version is "vomit-covered-okyou". Strange.) and that if she's ever on the same case, or in the same workspace as Prosecutor Skye, she'll break her and ruin everything. So Angel is out. She's wily enough to weasel her way back into their proximity, though, using everything she knows she can use as leverage. Jake, as well, isn't outwardly as confrontational as Angel, and he wants him tethered to the place his brother was murdered in, as a sort of reminder that they "found his killer", and he "has justice", I suppose? Maybe so that Jake never has the chance to take a step back from it all and evaluate. Of course, he doesn't factor in Jake and Angel having a relationship outside of office hours, and this enduring friendship giving Jake that chance... Which, actually seems to be a theme with him. I think he probably is a quite lonely man, and doesn't account for people having relationships more complex than coworkers. Maybe because he just doesn't care about anyone else.

I think very little of what he does is excessively premeditated, and everything is in his follow-through. Killing Neil seems entirely opportunistic, and killing Bruce, similarly, was done spur of the moment. I think he works within the framework of believing he knows exactly what pieces he has to play with. He knows how to terrify everyone around him - he puts Jake on the crime scene as a sort of "look what happens", and I don't think it's entirely unreasonable to think that he knew he'd be making Lana fear for her own life by casually telling her to dispose of the body of a coworker she was likely quite close to. He seems very aware of the bargaining chips that he has re:each person. Which makes it interesting that he doesn't care much about Angel, actually! I figure this is because she's a much more canny person, and he knows he'd never be able to shake her, so it's best to just have her out of the way.

I think an interesting line is the bit where the Judge says that he's not the man that he used to know.

Either Gant has always been corrupt, and incredible at keeping himself guarded, as we do see him to be in game, or he really was a good guy. Maybe he saw himself in the earnest, good natured Detective Skye, and the natural progression, therefore, was that she'd become just as corrupt as him. He doesn't factor in her empathy, though. He knows he's terrifying her by getting her to dispose of Bruce, but he doesn't care that her being terrified leads to her making awful body-disposing decisions. She leaves Bruce in the place he put him, she leaves the real weapon at the crime scene, she's witnessed, photographed, and she cuts open her hand. I don't think this was his intention, to frame her. I mean, clearly, Edgeworth was the intended target of the framing, but Lana messed everything up enough to give him a brand new scapegoat. He wouldn't want to dispose of the person who puts the prosecutors office in his pocket, but I think this incident really tanks her value to him in his eyes. He believes he can count on her to do anything, but she has entirely failed this task, so she might just become a liability for anything in future. I think Lana knows this too, which is why she doesn't have any fight in her.

When Lana is free from Gant, she, of course, has her smiling sprite. (My favourite.) But it's not just her being happy, it's her being actually free. She says so. ("A long time since I've felt free of these heavy chains"). Because I draw her so much, I've looked at her sprites a lot, and her smiley one really gets me. It's got the "can't stop smiling" feel to it, with how her eyebrows are held, and how her eyes crinkle. When you look at her normal sprites, she's either got a thousand yard stare or she looks terrified. The judge even asks if she thinks something is amusing, because she's just grinning. It's just cathartic. She's giddy. Usually she's acting out of a (misguided, and slightly self serving) desire to protect Ema, but knowing Gant isn't going to be a presence in her life anymore seems to not just delight her for Ema's sake, but also because she, herself, isn't in the middle of this anymore, and it seems like being happy for herself is something unusual enough for her that it just makes her soft. As well, her hands are in front of her now. So she's not having to hide the blood on them anymore. Anyway. I really like Lana's sprites. This isn't supposed to be about her.

I went on a bit, and I'm sure I repeated myself somewhere, but those are some of my Gant thoughts. He's really interesting to me. Especially the way he interacts with the other characters. Bear in mind this is being written a fair few months after playing RFTA one time...

[plutoslittlerkive]

I want to love you.

Tate Frost x AFAB reader!

Hi babies I’m back with another banger or wtv those YouTube mfs be saying but yeah hii I’m taking another break from Tiktok (Princessofmagix) Lol you should follow I’m pretty and kinda funny! But yeah I recently got back into otome and visual novels and guys when I found Tate Frost..? I went bonkers so I wrote a lil something but guys, hear me when I say:

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS I’M NOT PLAYING WITH Y’ALL!

Warnings: Noncon, manipulation, Kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, triggering sexual themes, mentions of past trauma!

But yeah enjoy!

•

“You’re fucking crazy.” I spit. His eyes traveled like an elevator down my body, eye-fucking me in the process. You know I have to hand it to them, the people who warn others about manipulative men.

They weren’t kidding, this guy’s seriously an actor, even worse an artist. A con one at that but I couldn’t help but commend his artistry, even as I found myself bound to his bed by ropes and held down for him, like the perfect prey. He eyed me like it too.

The talent was crazy but I think part of me was more mad at myself than him, maybe because I took pride in the fact that I wasn’t naive, well, not as much as expected from a traumatized person.

Not to get too much into detail but I’ve been deceived, later healed enough to start giving out the benefit of the doubt but I wasn’t stupid, not enough to fall for obvious love bombing but THIS was anything but obvious…and yet again I’d been deceived.

Fooled to believe I’d been loved.

Usually, at this point, I would fear that I’d never love again, never trust again, but live? This situation goes beyond my wildest nightmares.

“Can you blame me Sha? You look divine like this…”

My eyes narrowed but his words made me dizzy. He always did, but that’s what love was; a disease. One I’d tolerate though couldn’t stomach but finally for the first time it made me sick, this man was a monster. I understand that perfectly well, yet my body still hasn’t gotten the memo.

He had access to every part of me now but he sat across the room and continued to taunt me.

“I hate you,” I say staring away at a wall

“Well, that’s a shame sweetness, 'cause I adore you~”, He smiled ever so sweetly.

“Shut up.” I glare but he shoots up and grabs my ankles pulling me towards him. I struggle and start to scream but he immediately grips my throat, my eyes widen, not from his harsh grip but from the cold metal I feel against my thigh.

Almost instantly my eyes began to water and I trembled beneath him. He stared down at me, his dominance utterly petrifying, but he wanted to make sure I understood my position, fully grasped the situation I was in.

He then softened his hand. I cautioned my breathing, too afraid that I might accidentally set him off enough to rid me of existence, but he leaned in and pressed his forehead against mine and simultaneously my tears fell.

“I thought you loved me…” I struggled

He pulls back and tilts his head.

“I do love you?” But I scoff

“You’re delusional. This isn’t love.”

“Oh and that’s where you’re wrong sweetness,” He keeps the blade steady but focuses on my eyes.

“Believe it or not I’m honored you decided to trust me enough to be that vulnerable with me. To let me into your past. I’ve listened to you, comforted you…and it’s all been out of love.”

I clenched my teeth and he slowly sunk the blade deeper, enough to scare me.

“And what kind of love equates to threatening to kill me?” I challenge, he smirks.

“Our kind.” He says before pulling the blade and his hand away, but his hand didn’t stray too far as he gently traced the curves of my hip. My breath hitched as I looked up at him.

“You see Sha, the difference between me and all your other relationships is that they didn’t really love you.” My face went cold as ice.

What is he-..?

“MY love for you is overbearing…so much that you can’t even take it. So much that it overwhelms you but,” He sets the knife aside. Leaning down he kisses up my thighs, stalking around my arousal, and I whimpered in anticipation.

“Even if you can’t understand, your body knows that I love you… and it knows I would never lie about that.” He says soothingly, his thick accent laced with allure.

My mind began to shift into fight or flight as his kisses grew closer to my core.

“Tate no please stop..!” And before he could touch me there, he pulled away and let out a sigh before leaving the room.

As I found myself in the room alone my heart began to race, bro this man was out of his damn mind. I took time to breathe but my eyes quickly got to work scanning around his room.

Prior, I never took the time to take in my surroundings the other times I was here.

I was too busy being blinded by his “act”, and my alibi had to be the fact that we never had sex before, he always respected my boundaries and I cherished that about him, knowing I’d never seen that gentleness in anybody else.

But it wasn’t even him actually, and I was currently in the room of a stranger, but if there was one thing I knew for sure, I couldn’t stay here!

Suddenly the door swung open. And there he was…with a deck of playing cards?

“You know I’m quite worried about you Sha, don’t trust me, don’t trust your own body, ” He locked the door before walking over to me

“But I don’t blame you, you’ve been through enough.” He pulled up a chair and sat next to me, reaching over I flinched as he gently wiped my stained cheek, though his touch only made me want to cry again.

“No matter, I thought we’d settle this with a game. Wanna see what your subconscious thinks?” I yanked away from his touch and turned away to the other side of the room, once again making friends with the wall.

“You’re disgusting, I don’t want to play shit with you.” I spat

He chuckled, “I’m afraid it’s the only way sweetheart, besides I think you’ll enjoy what I have in store if you win~”

My brows furrowed as I looked back at him.

Unless it was my freedom he had to be out of his mind entirely if he thought I’d enjoy anything else and right I was.

“I can see you're on edge but I’m being completely honest, I care about you. And because I’m not a total monster I’ll take how you feel into consideration.”

My brows furrowed even more as I stared into his eyes.

Gee, thanks.

“I trust your body so the rules are simple Sha,” He coos moving to sit beside me on the bed.

“I’ll hold up three cards, and if you can pick my favorite, you win.” He began to trail off

If I win…I’ll set you free.” My eyes widened.

Wait what- he can’t be serious… but the way he looked off into the distance, he meant what he said…he was serious, and I let out a shaky breath

“But if you win, I finally get to fuck you, and you’re mine.” My body lost all warmth, dread took hold of my body as I started to hyperventilate. I shook my head and pulled against the ropes.

“Tate n-no don’t do this p-please don’t-!“ He shuffled the deck, eyeing me as I struggled, begging him to have mercy. But it just made him smile.

“I’m serious, are you listening-?!” I screamed out. He put a finger up to his lips effectively hushing me, I knew well then to upset him.

“Tate I-“

“Pick one Y/N.” He immediately cuts me off.

As he held the cards in front of me I quickly broke into a cold sweat.

He could take everything from me… and I wouldn't be able to stop him.

I looked at the cards. I just had to get it wrong and the odds are in my favor but, I’m use to being so unlucky.

“The middle one…” I spoke meekly.

He immediately looked down at the cards, staying quiet. The suspense was killing me and I’d rather it did, anything to take me away from this man. Before I know it he looks up at me and smirks.

“I love you too Sweetness”,

Before I can think he throws the cards aside and crawls on the bed, dragging my hips up to his. I had no time to react as my throat tightened and tears dripped down my cheeks.

Just my luck.

He swiftly pulled down his boxers making my eyes widen, as he ran his tip along my lips.

“S’been a long time comin'” He chuckled aligning with my entrance.

I try once again to pull away, no longer caring about upsetting him.

“No p-please I can’t- you’re too big I won’t be able to take it-!” But it was too late and the pressure quickly entered my body. I winced as he slid in every inch, tears nonstop falling to the sheets as he kept a harsh grip on my hips.

“Fuck!” He hissed

I panted heavily trying to cope with the pain of feeling him so deep against me. I whimpered as he pulled my hips closer, raising one of my legs up to kiss along, as if he was trying to soothe me.

Keeping my leg up he thursted in me once more allowing his dick to reach a newer depth.

“You’re so fucking tight” He groaned lifting my hips to pick up the pace.

He was relentless and rough but I still couldn't adjust to his size as he forced my body to take him repeatedly. My body tensed as surges of pleasure felt like an electric current in my body every time our hips met.

“a-ah~ Tate please-!“

“What’s that baby, such a pretty little thing, do you feel good?“ He teased

I hated him. I swore I did but the way he towered over me, he was so much bigger, stronger than me and it showed in the way he manhandled my body, as if he truly owned me and I was his doll.

He slowed down and buried his face in my neck, focusing on precision rather than speed. He whispered sweet words in my ear, telling me he loved me and I was made for him...and that I was perfect.

I clung to him and held on as he kissed and sucked along my jaw even biting me, but everything felt so gentle, his ease caused my body to relax against him and I whimpered as I allowed myself to fully submit to him.

I would never make it out alive if I didn’t and part of me wanted to accept him. Maybe he did love me and I just didn’t understand. Or maybe being forced away from the rest of society was finally catching up to me? Either way, this was my life now.

As I came to the realization he gently pulled away slightly and wrapped a hand around my throat squeezing lightly, my body tensed pleasurably once again as I closed my eyes taking everything he gave me.

But when I felt him pull back to me I flinch and cry out suddenly as I felt consistent harsh vibrations against my clit. My mouth stayed open as I tried to take in the mass amount of sensation. My breath left me quickly as I arched my back into his growing fast pace.

“Do me a favor and hold this for me baby.”

The tears never faltered, though now they were a symbol of how good I felt, and my eyes fluttered as I looked up to him and the wand he rested above my clit.

“Tate...I’m so close I can’t-“ I cried but he pressed the wand down harder and stared down at me sternly.

“Hold it.“ He repeated.

I couldn’t tell in what way he meant but to play it safe I did both. Taking a hold of the wand I listened to him when he demanded I keep it in place. My body started to shake violently and I felt the overstimulation building up in my body. As I held it in place he let go of my neck and used both hands to hold my hips before thrusting harder.

My head instinctively falls back.

“May l cum please?“ I ask, tears still falling down my face.

“You plan on leavin’ me?” He asks

I started to pant heavily, desperately needing to let go.

“No, no I’m yours I promise I won’t leave, I’ll never leave-!” I struggle, beginning to find myself in a state of hysteria.

“I love you! I promise to stay,” I cry

He immediately takes hold of the wand allowing me to convulse, letting out a loud guttural moan as I came, gripping the sheets.

As I tried to come down from the high, he pulled the wand away and embraces me, thrusting harder to chase his release. I reach up and kiss along his neck trying to return the same feeling he previously gave me but, he quickly bit down hard on my neck trying to quiet himself as he came, pouring every last drop inside me.

He slowed down his thrusts before maneuvering me to lay on top of him and he stayed deep inside.

We soon caught our breath as I laid my head against his chest.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you…” I whispered, the weariness finally weighing down on me as I closed my eyes. He gently stroked my back pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

“I forgive you baby” Was the last thing I heard before I fell asleep.

•

Guys c’mon now I can’t believe y’all let him scam y’all like that, what happened to the original plot of the movie?? But seriously if you guys ever find yourself in a situation like this it’s absolutely not healthy please don’t be afraid to seek help! This is purely fantasy! Lol but yeah thank you for reading I love y’allz <3

Likes, comments and reblogs are so appreciated!

[happy74827]

Contagiously Human.

[Brian Moser x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Killing was always the easiest part for him, but this… you… well, as fate would have it, that created a new problem for him. {GIF Creds: brothermoser}

WC: 1881

Category: Plot-Driven, Maybe Some Fluff/Angst…?

Someone asked me if I’d ever thought about writing Biney… and well, I decided to put my thought into actual words 🤷‍♀️

Just for some minor clarification, this is pretty much a “what if” fic in which Dexter does not end his life. This being said, I picture this taking place around season 5-6 ish.

『••✎••』

Hesitation.

The thing that makes or breaks a killer. The line that separates predator from prey. It's the pause between life and death, the time a man takes to make the decision, and whether he'll live to regret it or not.

He’s never had hesitation. Not once. In fact, he relishes in it; he finds peace in knowing that he can decide one way or another and be content with either outcome. It makes him a dangerous man, unpredictable, a ticking time bomb.

His baby brother, his blood, had the disease. The disease of being too much of a good person, feeling guilt, having morals, a sense of what's right and wrong. He was weak, he hesitated, and he wasn’t even aware of how much the disease was eating him alive until that Trinity Killer came around.

He was supposed to protect his brother, save him from himself, and show him the proper way of things. The way of survival. Of the hunt. But no, Brian wasn’t there to catch him. To stop him.

So, as all good brothers do, he’s here to fix him. To set him straight and rid him of the disease. Forever.

It's an easy task, really. His little brother is so trusting and caring that he'd do anything for the ones he loved. Why not start by showing him why he shouldn't?

Because clearly, the loss of his apparent wife wasn’t enough. He needed to understand, truly and absolutely, that the world would only disappoint him. It's a harsh lesson but a necessary one.

So, that led him to you. His brother’s friend from school. The woman, aside from Dexter’s poor excuse for a sister, that his brother actually cared about.

Just like him, you were naive. Trusting, too. Friendly to everyone, completely unaware of the monsters that hid in the shadows. His brother included.

You might’ve never killed someone, but with everything else, it was clear why his brother was so interested in you. He always loved the innocent ones.

So, the question was, how would he go about it? He could take you somewhere, but the element of surprise was an important factor. You had to believe you were safe and comfortable before he could make his move.

A Debra repeat? Or a more... Unique approach. He'd think about it, plan it out, and strike at the perfect moment.

He wouldn’t hesitate, after all.

When the day presented itself, the stars had aligned, and everything was just right; he made his move. It was noon, a warm Sunday.

You were in your little bookshop, reading one of the books in your free time. Business had been slow today, as most people were enjoying the weather.

You never saw him coming. He was the type to blend into the crowd, the type that you'd see once and forget about. The type you'd pass on the street without a second thought.

He had his ways, of course, and his way was simple. A simple, kind greeting. One that had your eyes lighting up as if you'd never seen another person before.

He was charming, handsome, the perfect man to lure you in. You didn’t stand a chance.

That's what led him here, picking up your fallen book and handing it to you, watching the smile that graced your lips.

A romance novel, of course. How ironic.

"Oh, uh, thank you. That’s very kind."

You smiled, a hint of blush dusting your cheeks. Far more tame than that Debra woman, thankfully. He didn’t have to fight back the urge to roll his eyes.

"Tea and romance? Can’t say I blame you." He pulled a gentle grin, one that had you blushing further, more so of embarrassment this time.

"It's the first of a series. A favorite, actually, I’ve been rereading it." You explained, holding the book to your chest. He didn’t miss the way your thumb rubbed over the spine, fond and gentle.

Just from that, he knew. He was going to have fun with you. “Believe it or not, I read the first one too. A few months ago, actually. It was quite the page-turner. The ending had me on the edge of my seat, I swear."

You laughed, soft and airy, and for a moment, he found himself smiling genuinely. His lie was working, and he couldn’t believe it was that easy.

"I've only heard mixed reviews on it.” You spoke, moving to place the book back on the shelf. "I'm glad to hear you liked it. Marienne’s death was hard, wasn't it?"

"Very." He agreed though it was a lie. He had to pretend he cared. "It was a shame; I really enjoyed the character."

"You did?" You raised a brow, surprised. “Most people didn’t. Given that she doesn’t even exist.”

Shit.

He cleared his throat, a slight pause. He was so blinded by the idea of finally getting to his brother that he'd forgotten.

You were a reader, an author; of course, you would know the ins and outs of the story. The characters, the plot, and every little detail. Why would you not?

First rule of hunting. Don’t get cocky.

"Alright, I admit. I've been caught." He gave a small shrug, his voice holding a hint of sheepishness. Maybe you’d fall for it. “I couldn’t help myself; I figured you wouldn’t appreciate my love for fantasy books."

"Fantasy?" You tilted your head, and he knew. You bought it. You were a sucker for fantasy; you didn't like it when others looked down on them.

"I'm a bit of a nerd. Guilty pleasure."

"I didn’t peg you for the fantasy type…” You raised your eyebrow, though a smile still rested on your lips—a look of amusement.

"Really? Most people can't seem to look past the collared shirt.

"No, it's not that. It's your aura." You shook your head, and now, it was his turn to raise his brow. What the hell did that mean?

"My aura?"

"Those books in your hands..” You nodded towards his bag, a small smirk pulling at the corner of your lips. "You're definitely not a casual reader. My guess is everything in there is a throwaway.”

"And that means...?"

"You're bullshit through and through. You don't like romance or fantasy. In fact, I think you absolutely hate it."

Oh. Oh, you clever thing. Now, he truly understood why his brother connected with you so much. You'd figured him out, and yet, you had no clue. You were clever, smarter than you let on.

"Alright,” He held his hands up in mock surrender. He was enjoying this; for once, someone could see through his façade. See his true self. It was a rush.

“If you’re so smart, what do I like then?"

"Hmm, let's see...” And just like that, you were off with him in tow. You were taking him along on a trip through the shelves, looking through the genres, searching and searching.

He was intrigued, his eyes locked on you, his ears drinking in the sound of your hums and contemplation. Your mind was running, spinning, thinking. You were truly in your element.

"Well, let's start with what I know. You like horror." You said, turning towards the horror section and picking up a book. "You seem like the type who enjoys the dark side of humanity and likes to see the bad guy win."

Damn.

He was almost impressed. Almost.

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Eyes. They tell the most about a person. You’ve seen a lot, and it shows. I could tell just by looking at you. Your eyes are... Cold. Empty." You said, and it was then that he realized you were more observant than you appeared. Naivety might’ve not been a part of your personality, but trust was. You trusted a lot. Too much. “Are you a cop, by chance? You've got the whole detective thing going on."

"Prosthetist, actually." He answered, his hand reaching out and picking up a book at random. He wasn't a fan of fiction, not really. He preferred nonfiction; it was more realistic—less pointless details.

"Oh, wow, I was completely off. I didn’t expect that." You mused, looking up at him with those eyes. You had such an expressive face; it was amazing how easy you were to read. He could practically see the gears turning. How could he use this?

"Expected an axe murderer, did you?" He joked, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Maybe. Wouldn’t that be a twist?" You grinned a glint of amusement in your eye. “Speaking of, that’s probably what you like. Thrillers. Those kinds of stories are full of twists and turns. No one is who they appear to be. Kinda like you, hm?"

"Ouch."

"Sorry, am I being too honest?"

"No, I like it. Keep going." He was having fun. With Debra, it was exhausting. She was so stubborn, so headstrong, she never listened. It took him about three coffees just to have enough patience to deal with her sob story.

But with you, you were a breath of fresh air. He didn’t have to force himself awake or hide his boredom. He could just enjoy it, relish in the moment, and the fact that you were so easy to play with.

You pulled out three books: two thrillers and one horror. A classic and a new one. "These are what I recommend. Start with Primal Fear; that’s the one I believe you'll like the most. The first one might take you a while, but if you stick with it, the sequel will be worth it.

He reached forward, his hand brushing over yours, his touch lingering as he took the book. He purposely brushed his thumb against the back of your hand, just enough for a spark to go through your veins.

He saw the way your breath hitched, and he smirked. This was too easy.

"Thank you, you've been a great help."

"One more thing before you go." You spoke, stopping him. His eyes moved up from the book to your own, and there he saw something that made him falter.

Something that made him freeze longer than he should have.

You had a fire behind those eyes. A flame that burned with a passion, a curiosity that threatened to eat him alive. A want, a need, to get into his head. To peel him open and look inside.

Your eyes weren't cold or empty like his. They were alive. Full of life.

"Books don’t impress women,” Your voice was low, a secret, something meant only for him to hear. “It’s the passion that opens their hearts. You have nothing if you can't show it."

"I think I've misjudged you." He spoke, his hand resting on the shelf above your head. He had no choice but to lean closer, and he felt the way your breath fanned across his skin.

"Oh?"

"Yes. You're a lot more than you appear, aren’t you?"

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

The question was left unanswered. He didn't give a response because, in truth, he didn't know.

He left that day not with his brother’s cure or even the thought of him. He left with three books.

Three books and the disease he believed to be immune to…

Hesitation.

[@numetalnerd2007] Since you asked, I figured this would automatically mean you were interested. At least I hope you were 💀

That being said, please be nice to me for this one since it’s my first time writing for Biney here (and I haven’t rewatched season 1 in forever), so his character probably isn’t 100% solid. It’s a work in progress 🙏✨

Also, for all my Joe Goldberg fans out there, did you catch the reference I made? I see a slight resemblance between Brian and Joe, so I wanted to sneak it in a little something. I think it’s the hair, honestly.

[yandere-sins]

Hiii, Could you write Satan kidnapping MC because they're his favorite writer? I had this idea recently and it looked promising. Maybe MC is so talented that people compare their books and Simeon's books.

Thanks for your request! It’s very fitting for Satan :3

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««

"How's it coming along?"

Satan's voice tore you out of your daydream—a nice one, of a world far, far away—and you twisted around to see him come through the door, setting down his bag before returning your gaze and smiling. You didn't hear him come in, nor noticed how fast the time passed since he left, but immediately you felt uneasy again. "Not so good," you muttered, turning back to you laptop and biting your lip, now overly aware of his footsteps creaking over the floorboards.

"Let me see," he asked. Leaning over your shoulder, Satan gently nudged your hand off the mouse to scroll up your manuscript to read what you had added over the span of the last few hours. There were fewer new pages than he expected as he scrolled too far the first time, and you only slumped more on your chair, too afraid to admit your failure.

"Hm... I'm not sure. It's just lacking the certain something, you know what I mean?" he finally commented as he reached the blank half of the last page you wrote before sighing, shaking his head. "Didn't you say you wanted me out of the room for peace and quiet? I thought that would help you."

Fiddling with your thumb, you kept silent for a while as his body continued to weigh down on you. It was his impatient threat to say something, to make him understand your views. But how could you? In his eyes, you may very well not have been human, but you two would never see eye to eye regardless of how he viewed you. "I tried..." you eventually muttered, looking down and hanging your shoulders.

"I don't really feel motivated... A-And I'm hungry! I can't work like this! It's blocking my inspiration to be in this room, I haven't been outside in a week!"

Pushing back your chair, Satan moved out of the way just in time to dodge it ramming into him. A part of you felt bad for almost hurting him, but it was the part that hadn't understood yet what kind of situation you two were in.

He was the demon that lured you into a trap by promising to be your patron, and you were the dumb human who didn't think twice before agreeing. Nowhere on the contract did it say you'd have to spend your time in his home, in front of his scrutinizing eyes, but you had been naive and gullible, all too happy to sign without reading the fine print.

Stumbling back, you felt the adrenaline rush as you opposed him for the first time since he had brought you here. It was your fault, you knew that. You had enough sleepless nights to reflect on your mistakes. But Satan could not make you his puppet, no matter how much he wanted you to. It's not how the creative writing process worked! With so many restrictions he put on you, it was impossible to create anything—no matter how much he loved your creations.

As you watched his hand rise into the air, you heard a tsk escape from his lips, and you looked away, squeezing your eyes shut and bracing for impact. You've seen his anger, witnessed his rage. It had never been directed at you, but with your mind running wild all day—just not with ideas for your new book—you were sure it was time for him to lash out at you.

Instead, you felt the gentle warmth that his palm emitted as he cupped your cheek, and your eyes blinked open in confused astonishment. "I'm sorry," he said, his expression full of concern and shame. For a moment, you almost forgot he wasn't human; his reaction felt so validating and real. As if he truly recognized how he wronged you.

"You said you wanted some alone time and I thought it would be best to give you what you wanted. But you are right. I should have taken your needs into consideration."

Satan spoke these words so earnestly, not a hint of a lie in his voice. It felt surreal to hear these words, knowing he had kidnapped you in the first place. "No, I'm sorry, I..." you started before catching yourself. Why were you apologizing? Wasn't it his fault you flew off the handle? It had been Satan who had tricked you, so why were you feeling bad all of a sudden?

"No, you are right. I can't keep you cooped up here all day, even though I long to see your new story. It was selfish of me when we were supposed to be partners in this, so forgive me."

Dropping his hand from the gentle caressed to your face, Satan held it out to you. You couldn't help but be hesitant and unsure. What did he want? Would he hurt you if you accepted the invitation?

"Please let me make it up to you," he explained, sincerity in his eyes as he stood there, waiting for you to agree. It all felt so unreal, but the paranoia made you unsure how to act. You had already imagined all kinds of scenarios, from the horror ones to some that made you blush. Being a writer, your anxiety didn't give you a clear sign of what to do, and after being stuck in an unfamiliar, dark place for more than a week, barely surviving on the food and water you had been given, and even less on the few hours of sleep every day, it was a surprise you could even come up with more scenarios in your head.

"You're not mad?" you asked hesitantly, eyeing his hand with suspicion. You already knew the palm would be warm, his long fingers perfect for wrapping around your hand, and his touch soft and gentle. After being deprived of social interactions, it was a tempting offer.

Satan shook his head, sadness rushing to his features again. "No, I'm worried and ashamed I let it come so far. I will make it up to you. I'll show you the beauty of this world and take you to experience unforgettable things. I didn't ask to be your patron so you'd live out the rest of your life like a caged animal. I want to support you, even if I have failed until now. Will you give me the chance to right my wrongs?"

Even though you felt nervous about making this decision, Satan had said all the right things. Everything you had wanted to hear from him, assuring you that you had also been heard by him. When he first approached you for this partnership, you had been unsure as well; deal with the devil and all. But he had seemed so sincere back then, too. So convinced in your skills and talents, sweeping you right off your feet. The same was happening now, although if he meant what he said, then his intentions were still pure.

Slowly, you placed your hand into his, choosing to trust him once more. After all, he had approached you for this deal. Surely if it was this important to him, he'd not mess it up again, right? Satan beamed when you gave him your answer, nodding once in confirmation as his hand wrapped around yours.

"Let's go then!" he announced, and before you could ask where to, he had pulled you after him, opening the door and bathing you in the warm, beautiful sun, leaving the darkness behind.

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««

"You good?" Satan asked, patting down the blanket around your shoulders. You nodded, swallowing down some of the soothing tea in your hands before smiling.

"I think I can do it now!"

A gentle smile played around his lips as he chuckled, excited after hearing your enthusiastic reply. "Then I'll be over there, reading. Call out if you need anything."

It had been the right choice to trust him. All this time, you had been fearful and wary when, actually, he was a good guy. People would think you'd gone mad, hearing you talk like this about a demon this way, but they didn't know Satan. Some demons truly were good people, perhaps better than most humans you knew.

After that little argument in the afternoon, he had done his best to give you back the freedom you craved. He took you to a nice beach town, where you two played in the sand next to the ocean, took a long walk and talked, and ate delicious food from many different vendors. Had you two not been in a professional relationship, one could have almost called it a date.

But that wasn't important. Important was that when he asked if you wanted to continue this partnership, you agreed. On the condition this time that he wouldn't restrict you as much again and listen to you, to which Satan willingly shook hands. You went back with him to his domain with fewer worries, less stress, and actually feeling inspired to sit down and write. And once you cozied up with a blanket and some tea, you were happy to fulfill your side of the contract—at least until you were too sleepy to continue.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you saw Satan lounging in his armchair, his own steaming cup of tea on a side table as he read his book. He noticed your gaze, meeting it with a smile and a slight wave and you returned the gesture before looking onto the empty page of your manuscript again, getting ready to throw yourself into the story. You could do it! You knew that now. You had all the support that you needed, and Satan had become more of a friend than the captor you had originally thought him to be!

All you ever wanted was to write, and now, it was your time to shine.

All thanks to Satan's help.

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««

Humans were easily frazzled, weren't they?

Vulnerable, fearful creatures. And yet, he couldn't help but fall for you the moment he read the first sentence of your book. Satan remembered that he thought, "Wow, they get it," as he dove into a story filled with passion for the obscure, something that couldn't have been from a mind as fragile as a human.

But it was, and so he found you.

And you were everything he wanted you to be.

So for a moment, he panicked when he saw you distraught. For a moment, he could feel the feeble connection of your pact waver, threatening to tear as the contract he made the first time had been rushed and haphazardly. He knew better now than to be careless around you. You, who had the power to make and break him, turn him into an obedient puppy to your whims, even though he was the scariest dog your world had ever seen. If he wanted to keep you, he had to rethink his plan, better it, and put a leash so tight on you that you'd be unable to escape his grip.

Inevitably, he fixed the problems easily, building trust that you should have never allowed to form between you two. Satan relished in the sight of your turned back, your fingers tapping away merrily on the keyboard of the laptop he got for you. Don't get him wrong, he adored your works, loved the obscure, wild ideas that you put into words so lovely that they touched his ruthless soul.

But it was you he wanted. You he loved.

That's why he decided to be patient. Even with the itch in his fingers to pin you to the ground, the burning on his lips to capture yours so frevently you'd forget yourself. The inescapable pull you had on his whole body as if you were the demon binding his soul to yours, and that annoying part of his mind that wanted nothing more than to rip it out so you may have it.

Satan couldn't let you know all these things he wanted to do with you, the way he'd have you captured in his arms until you stopped thrashing. It wasn't enough for Satan to have captured you, he wanted more. He wanted to still his anger with the softness of your body in his hold, soothe the rage inside him with the sound of your voice. Know that every word you'd write, you'd do for him. It made him anything but angry—greedy, gluttonous, prideful. He could act like the main character in your book all you needed, but it wouldn't change the fact he was the villain at the end of your story.

But he had already captured your body, soothed your distrust, and soon, he'd have that new creation you'd only write for him and him alone. Thus was the new contract he made you sign. A contract you accepted much too easily after he showed you the illusion of freedom you were craving. As if there had ever been a choice for you.

You were a simple soul, even if your mind was brilliant. He could read you like a book, the way your body shuddered against his touch as you dreamed of him—dreams he planted in your head for you to nourish with your ideas. And Satan could play this game for a long, long time, dragging it out until you'd accept his love willingly, seek it out like he had sought after you. Even if it would take forever, he'd practice the illusion of patience.

All so he could have you for all eternity.

[heybank]

umm so i wrote a little fic/blurb idk i don't think it's good but it's something that's been stuck in my head for a while with my own little oc named grace but her name is only mentioned a few times so it could totally be ignored and seen as reader.

anyway this is my first ever fic so please be kind to me and if you have suggestions or other fic ideas i'd love to hear them.

not proof read and lowercase intended.

and if you think it's awful please lie to me i'm fragile 😔

deny

you are a lover girl. a hopeless romantic, someone who dreams of finding "the one" and living happily ever after. kie often says you tend to fall in love a little with everyone you meet. you can't help it though, you have so much love in you, it feels like you'll burst at the seams if you don't share it with others.

you think you're in love with your best friend jj maybank. no one understands you the way the wild blond haired boy does. no one can communicate with you with just a single look the way jj does. no one makes your heart beat out of your chest and your tummy flutter the way his dimpled smile does, eyes crinkling at the corners, a slight sunburn on his nose because lord know that boy doesn't use the sunscreen you bought him.

so yeah you're in love with jj maybank but then yesterday a different boy kissed you. pope heyward, your other best friend, genius extraordinaire whom you thought was maybe in love with kie but no- he kissed you and you felt a tingle in your ever beating heart. heat filled your cheeks and your ears became fuzzy. that was a new feeling when it came to pope. it made you excited to explore because as much as you love jj, you don't think the boy would ever return your undying affection because your friendship meant too much.

----

you stood in the threshold of popes bedroom, gasp stuck in your throat, eyes wide and mouth open at the sight before you. you’re not sure how to process what you’re seeing.

before you on the bed that pope kissed you on not even 24 hours ago, is jj maybank, your closest friend, kissing the heyward boy.

so many emotions flow through you at the sight before you.

shock because not once has jj; or pope for that matter mentioned or even hinted that they liked men- or each other. then again, jj has always liked beautiful people and pope is certainly that.

sadness because you and pope had literally just kissed. maybe you were naive to think a simple kiss meant something more to the boy, but it was pope, you don't think there's a mean bone in his body. then again you’ve always been too much of a romantic, too blinded to really see what’s in front of you. blinded by your want and need to be loved that perhaps you create situations in your mind that you interpret as reality? maybe you need to contact your therapist again. you're sounding even more delusional than before.

lastly, you feel jealousy. the angry green monster rumbling around in your tummy, making its way up your throat. you’re not sure what exactly is making you jealous because the image of the two boys kissing is surely confusing. are you jealous because pope is kissing another person who isn’t you? a part of you is jealous because he’s kissing jj. or maybe it’s that jj is kissing pope or that maybe they’re kissing eachother and they're not kissing you? you're not sure at this point. dear diary jealousy is a disease babes, and you are infected.

you must have made a noise because next thing you know, the two boys are pulling apart, a string of spit still connecting them and for a second your love rattled brain is jealous of it. the spit that is, because deep down you’ve always known that you wanted them both… to be the one to connect them. you feel slightly crazy being jealous of spit.

jjs face goes beat red and then flushes pale, like a ghost. he looks terrified and like he might vomit all over the floor in a second.

“grace!” popes panicked voice reaches your ears but they’re still kind of ringing from the shock of seeing your supposedly straight best friends kiss.

in your heartbroken haze you wonder if you're being a bad ally right now. you love the gays you swear! you just never pictured pope and jj as being a part of the gays ™.

you clear your throat, “jb and kie are waiting for us downstairs. we were going out on the boat today, remember?”

you try and say that as gently as possible because jj still looks like he’s going to pass out and pope isn’t much better.

popes hands are shaking as he reaches for you and a part of you wants to pull away but you’re not mean. you’ve never been mean so even if your feelings are hurt you’ll always put your best friends feelings above your own. and it looks like pope needs to touch you. maybe to hold your hand and reassure him you’re really standing there, witnessing something that you probably shouldn’t have.

so many emotions flicker through popes eyes. you can’t really see his blush but you’re sure if you touch his face it would be hotter than the sun.

pope grabs your hands in his shaking ones. you can feel how clammy they are and you hazard a look back to jj who has yet to even move. you’re a little concerned he’s gone into shock.

you let out a soft sigh and smile at the boys, a smile that is mostly genuine.

you squeeze popes hand and make eye contact with the panicked blonde boy on the bed.

“it’s ok jj. i won’t say anything if you don’t want me to.” you speak kindly, as if you’re talking to a scared feral cat.

you only see jj swallow hard. “for what it’s worth, i understand the appeal... wanting to kiss pope and all.” you tease hoping to cut the obvious tension in the room. you feel like you're the one choking now.

jj and pope both let out huffs like they’re afraid to laugh but also relieved you’re not upset.

“you’re not mad?” jj croaks like he still has a frog lodged in his throat. he looks at you with soft wonder, like you’re the best thing in his life. his stare makes your tummy flutter.

“of course not. you guys are my best friends. i only ever want you to be happy!” you reply honestly. jj deserves happiness after the shit life he’s been dealt. he deserves good things and if you have to set aside your feelings in order for him to have good things then by golly you’ll do that.

“grace, about yesterday-“ pope starts off,

“don’t worry buddy, already forgotten.” you cut him off. hopefully saving him the strife of having to apologize to you about the kiss and saving you the embarrassment of him telling you he regrets your kiss. you don't think you could survive hearing that out loud.

you march over to jj still holding popes hand, effectively dragging the boy with you. you throw your arms tightly around jjs neck and after a heartbeat, jj returns your hug. you move your head to look at pope and nod at him, encouraging him to join the hug.

“now c’mon. you know how pissy jb gets when he’s made to wait” you giggle.

you lead the boys out of popes room and home and into the twinkie without giving them an option of saying no.

“finally! i thought y’all died or something. what took so long” john b huffs in exasperation.

“my fault jb!” you quickly chirp so the boys don’t have to panic and think of a lie “pope showed me the new book he got and it’s my favourite and i starting gushing and you know me i can’t shut up and… well i forgot why i went up to get them in the first place” you giggle with a sheepish smile.

“you’re so lucky you’re cute, grace” kie laughs teasingly.

you see pope and jj making eye contact. you have a feeling you might need to play therapist for them soon. pope doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings without beating around the bush and well, jjs favourite thing to do is deny deny deny.

actually, that’s exactly what you’re gonna do too! deny you have feelings for pope. deny you have feelings for jj. deny you ever saw them kiss and deny that them kissing only upset you because you weren’t a part of it. deny that a part of you enjoyed it. deny that your feelings matter in this situation and deny that if given the chance, you’d love to be in between a beautiful jj maybank and pope heyward sandwich.

yep, deny deny deny. this is gonna be a long freaking summer.

[folkloresthings]

DID NOT KNOW YOU WRITE FOR SEB TOO!!

rbr!seb x reader who is actually so nice and sweet and innocent, but then seb is a little bitch who keeps making fun of her (all in good intentions bcz he has a crush on her) but then one day goes too far and reader starts crying and he freaks out lol (fluff + mild angst)

Sry this is long <3

sorry i LOVE this idea

SWEET OR SOUR. ❨ sebastian vettel x reader ❩

sweet as sugar — that’s what people always said when they talked about you. and since you arrived in the paddock, it was what everyone thought. you never had a bad word to say about anyone, you treated every person you came across with perfect humility and kindness.

and while, yes, you were perhaps a little green and naive, you were eager. red bull liked your enthusiasm, it made you the perfect intern.

however, you faced one problem: sebastian vettel. he was red bull’s primary driver, a very good one, and he found great satisfaction in teasing you. your innocence had attracted him the second he’d met you — a new victim for his fun. besides, you were very pretty.

“nice sweater,” he greeted you, glancing at the woollen sheep along the hem. you’d thought it was quite cute when you bought it, but the embarrassment that sebastian brought made it look like the ugliest thing ever. in truth, sebastian thought you looked adorable in it.

a few days later, you had thrown your hair quickly into two plaits for ease, keeping it out of your face. sebastian tugged on them at least seven times during the day, when you were trying to work or concentrate. it was laughable, the sight of the two of you mirroring children on a playground.

in spain, the weather was hotter than you’d expected and you had to resort to wearing the little summer dresses you had packed. sebastian spotted you the second you entered the garage. your legs on show, the dress showing off your body perfectly, sweat from the hot day beading on your forehead. his chest suddenly felt incredibly tight.

still, he’d found multiple things to tease you on during the day. forgetting a cup of coffee, spilling said coffee, not being able to reach the shelf you needed. if there was something he could make fun of you for, he’d find it.

it, and the heat, had rattled you a little. so much so that, in your briefing with christian, you’d tripped up and made a mistake in the notes. one that, if the team principal hadn’t caught it, would mean disaster for the race. thankfully, he had, and wasn’t too hard on you for it.

sebastian took a different stance.

“close one,” he hissed, when you were alone. your cheeks hadn’t cooled down yet, hurrying to double check absolutely everything before it got taken. “i’m surprised christian didn’t shout at you in front of everyone. he probably will soon, especially when you make more mistakes. you’re bound to, after all.”

his usual teasing had come at a bad time, or maybe his usual teasing had turned mean. but he didn’t go any further, freezing when he heard you sniffle. when he looked at you, spotting the hot tears spilling down your cheeks, he could have punched himself.

“fuck, no. don’t cry,” sebastian panicked, hurrying to grab a nearby napkin and force it into your hand. awkwardly, he rested a hand on your shoulder, which you quickly shoved away.

“why do you hate me?” you whispered, looking up at him. your brows furrowed, eyes wide and wet, and he sighed. “i’ve only ever been nice to you, and you go out of your way to make my life here hell. why?”

“i don’t hate you,” sebastian admits, slumping against the wall beside you. he wants nothing more than to reach out and dry your tears, to hold you close and make it all up to you. “the opposite, actually.”

it takes a moment, but it finally clicks, and your mouth falls open a little. he liked you? you’d always thought he was handsome, but his behaviour hadn’t exactly pointed to romance.

“i know i went about it wrong. like some seven year old boy who thinks being mean gets you the girl,” sebastian rubs at his eyes, straightening up when you walk over to him. “i’m sorry. i really am.”

“you’re an idiot,” you whisper, and sebastian chuckles.

“i think that’s the first mean thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses. “and i deserve a lot worse.”

he finally touches you then, palms resting on your cheeks and smoothing along your skin. you lean into them, somewhat glad of some affection.

“forgive me?” he pleads, flashing his most charming smile.

“hm. kiss me and i’ll decide.”