#Order it anywhere else and it's blue

[gravegoer]

i humbly suggest pirate sevika in small letters

thank you for your service

Sail the Seven Seas ☠︎︎

i had this in the works ! you read my mind, we have cowboy sevika, but we absolutely need pirate sevika, i did a little "how you met" before the hcs ! also ill greatfully take any other requests for pirate sevika i love her sm (i hope you appreciate the pirate hat i edited on her lol)

She found you when her crew was raiding a ship, you were kept prisoner in the dark dungeons below deck after the pirates robbed a bar.

Sevika was inclined to leave you there, as she was in a rush. But your pleading eyes convinced her.

She told you to back up and pulled the flimsy metal door right off the hinges. Your only experience with pirates was your former kidnappers.

They were ruthless and had not a care in the world. They were greedy enough to pat you down even though you cried and insisted you had no form of money on you other than the jewelry they had ripped from your limbs.

But after she ripped the door off, she simply walked away, not sparing you a second glance. She set you free, but now what? Were you supposed to swim to land?

You hesitated before running up the old wooden stairs, the faint moonlight beamed on your face. It smelled fresh on deck, no longer having the musky odor of mold and wood filling your nose.

You were also greeted with the sight of the woman that freed you, her back facing you and pointing to crew members, yelling orders. She must be the captain, signified by her detailed hat and especially the way the crew listened to her.

People scurried under her gaze almost cowardly. Boxes were being hauled onto a much bigger ship (which you assumed was hers) over a wooden plank.

She was tall and obviously built. You could tell even though she was adorned with many layers, straps, and belts accentuated her curves and edges. She had a metal prosthetic that looked dangerous. Not only that, but a gun and two swords hung from her waist.

You approached her timidly, the floorboards squeaking under your bare feet. When you sat a hand on her arm, urging her to turn around, she put a larger hand on the hilt of her sword defensively and spun to face you.

At just the force of it, you stumbled back. She was strong. Your eyes widened at her hands, hovering over the holster of her weapon. She spoke, "What are you trying to do?"

Her voice was gruff and demanding, leaving no room for questions. "I don't have anywhere to go," you stated honestly.

"And what do you expect me to do about that."

Although she put on the front of a rough demeanor, her eyes scanned your frame in curiosity. Worn clothes hung from your body, hair a mess, and despite it all, you were quite pretty.

She knew she couldn't take you on a ship with a bunch of men. In her eyes, it was almost as dangerous as leaving you on the ship to fend for yourself.

Almost.

She took you onto her ship with the promise that at the next stop they had, she would drop you off there. Whether or not you knew where you were.

Having no better option, you opted to go with her. She didn't shackle you up or restrain you, knowing you could do little to no harm to her or her crew.

She refused to put you in the berth with other pirates. It was stuffy and cramped, and all in all, no place for you.

So you had a room next to her (and an odd blue haired girl). She said it was fine because it's temporary anyway.

She gave you some clothes that fit, and a pair of shoes to put on your feet. And the room was more than you could ask for. It was spacious and contained a lavish bed.

You assumed it was someone else's room previously as it was already decorated. (Plus, she told you not to meddle in any of the stuff)

Sevika didnt expect you to do anything, thinking you werent fit to operate on a ship so, you were not asked to do any work. In all your boredom you found yourself roaming around the ship, looking at the stuff that was collected in each corner. Some trinkets, belts, broken weapons, etc.

Sevika watched you closely, making sure you didn't have any ulterior motives. Eventually, she realized that you were nothing but curious.

Then she watched you closely to make sure you didn't fall overboard.

At meals, you stuck close by her side, not really knowing anyone on board yet. She gave you things off her plate, saying you looked starved. And you didn't complain. You weren't really fed in the dungeons.

She started to show you around the deck, answering your questions about the sea and her ship. When you started to ask too many questions, she sighed and shook her head, wandering off to attend to her duties.

She was truly a mystery to you, not being able to read her gaze or body language. But what you did know is that she was a ruthless captian. Always having something for her crew to do and ordering them around with her loud, booming voice.

She was intimidating in theory, yes. But towards you, she seemed a bit more.. lenient?

Nontheless, in a few days, you finally arrived at their next destination, and you stepped off the ship with everyone. Taking in the way the ground felt against your feet, no longer swaying from side to side.

You had no idea where you were, and even though it didn't seem like a bad place, you couldn't just start anew again. I mean, how were you supposed to rebuild your whole life?

Sevika sensed your anxiety as you wandered through the streets with her crew. She saw your eyes flick side to side, looking at the buildings and people.

She might regret it, but she couldn't just leave you here.

You were growing more worried by the hour, and when night fell and everyone started back to the docks, you felt lost. You stayed behind, watching them load back onto the ship when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder. "You coming?"

Looking up, you locked eyes with Sevika, her brow was cocked and her lips slightly upturned. "You're letting me stay?" You questioned, in shock.

"Well, the ship is leaving soon, so only if you can make it." She teased.

You hugged her tight, wrapping your arms around her large frame. Her eyes widened in shock, not returning the hug before you ran off to the ship.

HC time !!

Now that you were deemed officially a part of the crew you had work to do, scrubbing the deck was a daily task. Even though other crew members seemed to dread it, you enjoyed smelling the fresh ocean air and feeling the wind on your back.

Sometimes you could feel Sevika's eyes on you as you cleaned, she sat at the helm, supposedly watching everyone. But when you turned around you would lock eyes with her and she would smirk.

When she sent the crew out on missions you grew to never be afraid, picking up on how to use weapons easily and fight alongside other people.

She almost admired this about you, it was like you were a natural. Like you belonged on her ship.

You didn't know what was on her mind most of the time. She was always closed off and didn't converse with anyone on ship except for Jinx, who was obviously closer to her than the rest of the crew.

But one fateful night you ran into her when you couldn't seem to get to sleep

You approached the bow of the ship, watching the moonlight reflect off the waves, and the clouds move with the wind. It was quite beautiful at night even though there wasn't much to look at other than water.

Hearing footsteps behind you, you put a hand to your holster but spun around to see Sevika. Seeing her in this light reminded you of the day you met her, but now you were in front of her, compared to the day she found you.

"Up so late?" She questioned, her voice indicated she had waken up recently.

"Yeah, I couldn't fall asleep," You let your guard down again and leaned against the wood, hand cradling your face as you stared back into the sea.

"Y'know.. I didn't think you had it in you." She commented.

"Had what in me?" You chuckled, "The guts to be a pirate?"

You talked for a long while after that, the sun hit the horizon by the time you said your goodbyes. You had a feeling that Sevika wouldn't be a mystery to you for much longer.

Eventually, she would come around to teach you how to fight properly, as you mostly fought based off of what you saw others do. She held your body close to hers, helping you mimic her movements. Feeling the buckles of her belts on your back, the coldness of her metal arm on your waist.

As a matter of fact she taught you a lot of things, like how to steer the ship: putting her hands over yours, pointing in the direction of where to go. Teasing you when your hands got tired, and taking over for you, letting you stand between her and the wheel.

She joined you in the crows nest, sitting beside you on the railing with a hand on your back, making sure you didn't fall. She would direct your telescope to look at nearby land or into the horizon.

You had a lot of talks up there.

Sometimes, the crew wondered what was going on between you two, as you were practically always together. (She denies all allegations.. for now)

She taught you how to wield a sword and fought with you for fun. Letting you win from time-to-time, you knew she let you. I mean, there's no way you'd be able to pin Sevika to the wooden deck without a struggle.

You would catch her sleeping on the helm, her feet kicked up on a chair and her hat on her face. As punishment, you would take her hat and keep it until morning. Then, prancing around the next day with it on, commanding the crew jokingly, pretending to be her.

When she finally caught you, she would sweep you up and take the hat right off your head, chuckling at your mischievousness. Sometimes, she would let you wear her hat, only if you promised not to lose it.

After particularly stressful missions, the crew would throw a small party for their winnings, needing time to wind down. You grew accustomed to the crew, even making a few friends with unlikely people.

You and Jinx drank a bit together and danced around on the table, singing sea shanties loudly. But eventually, Sevika would catch you all. And make you clean up. (But not before having a drink herself)

And it was almost a nightly routine to go up to the deck and talk once everyone was asleep, gazing into the moon with her. It felt natural. You felt like you belonged.

God i love her, i dream about her I swear. I love pirates... and I love sevika, pls send in more pirate sevika asks i wanna do a siren one too ngl maybe how Sevika isnt drawn in by your siren call because the captain is a woman AUGHHHHH

[bi-writes]

MOB who has to stay with Johnny at his house while Simon is away on a solo mission? Like as a preventive measure, Simon has them both together in case soemthing happens to him while he’s away?

mail-order bride

"i...simon, i just don't--"

"just do it," simon murmurs. you quiet immediately, a little caught off-guard. simon has never interrupted you; even when you're a babbling mess, simon lets you finish your garbled sentences. he waits until your voice quiets, until your mouth closes, before he ever speaks to you, but this time, his tone is firm, and there is no room for interpretation. when you meet his eyes, simon is more than serious. "i don't ask ya for anythin', swee'eart. but this..." he reaches out for you, and you step closer instinctively, and when he cups your face in both hands, you can't help but melt. he leans his forehead against yours, and you close your eyes when you see the very subtle tremble of his lips. "do this fer me. only thing i'll ever ask of ya. i swear it."

you take a deep breath to center yourself. one of his hands wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you just that much closer, and you wait until your lips brush against his before you answer him.

"i...i have to go?"

"few days. tha's it."

"well, i...well, okay."

it's quiet up north. the weather dampens the entire coastline, what you can see of it, and the air tastes like salt. it was in your mouth as soon as you stepped off the train, and it only got stronger the closer you got to the cottage.

as soon as you step out of the car, you're greeted by the most quaint little house on a hill. there's vines climbing up the sides of it, wrapping around wooden structures and carving out a perfectly quaint home tucked amongst scottish greenery. it's breathtaking here; it's so quiet, and the way that you're allowed to breathe up here is unlike anywhere else you've ever been.

the meows coming from your backpack are the only thing that bring you back to earth.

"just inside, lass," a low voice calls behind you. "supper's 'bout ready now."

when johnny closes the door behind you, you're mesmerized by the coziness inside. his house is filled with warmth. there's plaid curtains pulled back from a stained-glass window, allowing in soft colors of light. the couches in his living room have throw pillows and blankets of mismatched linen and velvet, and his walls are filled with pictures and hanging green plants. there's candles burning, and the television is still playing some reruns of old rugby games.

the wood detail is exquisite. the staircase has little carvings of scottish motifs and flowers, winding up another wall of photos. the pictures are old and new, all of laughing people with johnny's big smile or his bright blue eyes or wearing the same plaid pattern as the fabric that you saw hanging in the closet.

a green kettle. a cross above the mantle with a psalm printed on it. a sketch on the coffee table (a skull, with a stub of a charcoal pencil still laying over it). rosaries hanging over a wedding photo with johnny in the background, holding up bunny ears. a wooden bowl of oranges (and oranges only).

"said ye'd be 'ere fer some time, tha' ye like ta bake. got some things fer ye at the shops."

you set your backpack down, opening the clear window of it, and two little cats hop out immediately. johnny raises a brow as he makes eye contact immediately with the orange tabby, a wicked grin coming over his face.

"i remember ye, ye little shite."

"what?" you laugh, and johnny shakes his head.

"nothin'."

it's late when he notices you looking out the window. the cats are curled up on opposite ends of the couch, in deep sleep after johnny gave them each a salmon dinner (and you pretended not to notice seeing the extensive recipe sheet that only your husband could have made on his phone). your eyes are on the sky; you can see so much of it here, twinkly stars and all.

"'m sorry ye have ta be here," johnny says lowly, soft enough that you aren't startled. you don't look away from the window, leaning your chin on the edge of the couch as you wonder if simon is looking at the same star you can't seem to lose. it's brighter than the rest, and it flickers to a rhythm that feels oddly comforting.

"it's not your fault, johnny," you assure him softly, and you turn away from the window finally to find him seated on the carpet, scratching the orange cat behind the ears. "he wouldn't...he wouldn't take no for an answer. not...not this time."

you frown a little, smoothing your right hand over your left, and your heart drops a little in your chest when the sparkle of your wedding ring matches the sparkle of your star.

"i've been staying home alone all this time," you continue, shaking your head. "and all of the sudden...a-all of the sudden he doesn't trust me?"

"oh, love..." johnny sighs, clicking his tongue. "tha' is...'s nae wot it is, i swear it."

"i...it's not...it's not me, right?" you ask in a whisper, meeting his eyes finally. "simon and i...w-we're doing so well..."

the expression that passes over his face is a sad one. it unnerves you to see it; johnny is someone that just isn't meant to be sad. his house is filled with so much love and so much life, and you swear you don't even recognize him anymore because he's void of a smile altogether.

"ye seen the pictures?"

you know immediately what johnny is talking about. you saw them the very first night you stayed in your shared home. across your house, there are a few picture frames covered with fabric or face-down on whichever surface they rest on. when you glimpsed at them, you peeked behind the curtain of a life that simon has that you don't know. even now, you have never felt strong enough to ask him about them.

it isn't because you think simon won't tell you; you're afraid to ask. you're afraid of who they are, what they are to him, and why he's never told you their names or introduced them to you. they exist in a separate place, and you don't know why, and when you saw him holding that baby--

you shake your head finally.

"i...i can't."

johnny hums low, looking down. he smooths his hands down his jeans.

"neither can he."

you close your eyes, but not fast enough. there's a few tears that fall down the curve of your cheek.

"when...when did--?"

"will be another year in a few days."

your lip shakes, and you take in a stuttered breath. you did not believe it possible to love simon any more than you already do, but it aches, that place in your chest that is reserved just for him. it hurts, in the worst and most incredible way, and you never want him to know another day without hearing you tell him how much you love him.

when simon comes to get you, just a week later, you're sitting under a sycamore tree at sunset. it's never been more quiet inside of your head, and when he takes a seat beside you, you say nothing for a few minutes.

simon thinks maybe you're angry for a moment, but then your hand reaches over to take his, and then you're scooting closer, until you drape yourself over his arm and bury your face into the side of his neck.

"i'm not going anywhere," you whisper, and simon turns his head slightly.

"wot's tha', love?"

"i'm not going anywhere, simon," you say again, and when he looks at you finally, you squeeze his hand. "wherever...wherever you want me to go...i'll go. wherever you want me to stay, i-i'll stay there."

when he kisses you, it's soft, and it's slow, and he feels faraway and so close all at once. you put your hands around his neck, along the back of his head, anything to get him closer, to feel more of him, but it isn't enough.

it won't be enough. not until simon devours you whole. not until you bite into him and never let go. not until beginning of you and the end of him are indistinguishable.

not until i make the time before us obsolete and the time after us endless.

when you are home, simon watches from the hallway as you pick up a picture frame on the dresser. it's been facedown there since he moved in, and touching it has always felt like it burns him. he's frozen as you flip it face-up, standing it back up. when he sees himself, many years younger, smiling, happy, holding a chubby baby with bright eyes and blonde hair, he's surprised his insides don't burst immediately.

he never thought he would be able to look at them again. he never thought he'd be able to see their faces without seeing the warped versions of them, the mirrors of them that he never believed could be real. he always thought if he looked at them again, he'd go blind--that he'd carve out his own eyes just to forget what was left of them.

but nothing remains. they're memories, beautiful ones, and he'd forgotten that his nephew even had dimples.

the photos get lost amongst the rest. they blend in, like they were meant to be, tucked between the warm ones of your smile and the orange cat standing on simon's shoulders.

there is nothing more intoxicating than the woman that simon has chosen to love. you make the worst of his mind feel afraid; the thoughts that threaten to upend him, they are retreating, withering away from the things that he thinks about now that you remain. the tendrils of you are everywhere; you have latched onto him like nothing ever has, and he will never be rid of this feeling. of you.

simon will not fight reality any longer. he won't tell himself fate is nothing but proof that god is unforgiving. god isn't real, you are, and whatever came before you was the road he had to follow to get to you.

and simon didn't just follow; he fucking crawled. he dug his hands into the stone, bleeding fingernails and all, and he kept going even when his legs didn't work and his mind told him there was nothing there ahead of him. it was not resilience. it was not a man made of metal or steel or something heroic or a miracle.

simon is just a man, and he is weak, but as he comes up behind you and breathes you in, he realizes now that he has known you his entire life. you are tethered by something that he can't see. you are connected by something invisible.

when you tuck yourself into bed that night, the pictures are still upright, the ones on the wall still uncovered. you fall asleep before him, like always, and simon cradles your head to his chest as his eyes find the window.

a star sparkles. it's the last thing he sees before he falls asleep beside you.

[luvxkdrama]

— reflections

pairing : frontman x reader

warnings : mentions of blood, guns, manipulation, toxic love

word count : 2.6k

summary : "We're like a mirror, reflecting the same truth from opposite sides."

—

Y/N adjusted her pink jumpsuit and mask, her heart pounding against her ribcage. She hated everything about this place: the screams, the games, the stench of blood that clung to every surface. She hated being part of this macabre machine, but she didn’t have a choice. Or at least, that’s what she tried to justify herself with.

A year ago, when she first arrived and realised what was actually happening, she had vowed to find a way to end it all. Once she was back home, she worked silently, methodically not sharing her plans to anyone, besides one person.

Hwang Inho.

She met him after the first game as he was a pink guard as well and as much as y/n didn’t trust him at first due to his cold facade, he actually turned out to have the same ideas as her. He was different from the other pink guards y/n has met, he was quieter, observant. Unlike the others, who reveled in their power over the players or fell into obedient silence, he had a sharp wit that he wielded sparingly but effectively. He always seemed to sense when Y/N needed a quick distraction during tense moments.

And so, after they got out of the game, they worked side by side often, and she eventually found herself drawn to the rare moments when they spoke about things unrelated to the game. Cozy nights, wrapped in blankets and talking as if there was no tomorrow.

Y/N tried to stay focused on her mission and not let her mind wander anywhere else but with the time passing by, the moments spent together became significantly more important to her.

Things shifted when one particular night instead of going home, Inho suggested y/n to sleepover at his house as it was pouring rain and the roads were dangerously blurry. One thing led to another and eventually y/n found herself laying her head on his bare chest, feeling safer than ever.

“What are you planning to do once you take down the organisation?” He asked while gently running his fingers across her hair.

Y/N thought for a moment and smiled “I don’t know,” she finally answered “My main focus for now is succeeding this mission and the rest… we’ll see I guess.”

Inho chuckled and didn’t push further, understanding her answer. He then put his left hand on her cheek and slowly raised her head to plant a soft kiss on her lips, smiling into the kiss.

A year passed by quickly and it was time to return there again. Y/N felt ready, she knew what to do and when, especially after Inho somehow managed to find a sketch of the whole building where the games take place. Y/N did know that it was extremely odd to find such a thing out of blue, but knowing how helpful it was, she didn’t try to question it and simply let it slide, trusting him and being too immersed in succeeding her plan.

Before she knew, she was back, on her way to the first game, blending in as just another nameless guard in the sea of faceless pink uniforms.

Finally, the day came. It was the night after the third game when no one would expect anything as security was always on the highest alert after the first game.

Y/N was the one in motion while Inho was explaining the way she will have to make in order to get to the private lounge area. She managed to infiltrate the control room, her pulse pounding as she neutralized the guards stationed there. The room smelled of stale coffee and sweat, monitors flickering with live feeds of every horrifying corner of the facility.

She took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. She had made it this far—there was no turning back now.

After shutting down the security systems and eliminating anyone in her way, Y/N pushed through a heavy door into a private lounge area. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a massive screen casting shadows over the elegant furniture. Her breath hitched as her eyes landed on a figure sitting on a leather sofa, his back to her.

Her hand tightened around the gun she held. “Don’t move.”

The man didn’t flinch. He tilted his head slightly, as if amused. “You made it quicker than I expected.” His voice was low and computerized due to the black mask.

Y/N quickly grabbed her walkie talkie and told Inho she managed to make it to the private lounge. However, even after waiting for a few more seconds, she didn’t get a reply. She tried once again but to no avail. She started to get nervous as to why he wasn't responding.

Her grip on the gun wavered slightly and she cursed, deciding to take matters in her own hands for now “Turn around. Slowly.”

He raised the whiskey to his lips, taking a sip before setting the glass down on the table. Then, with deliberate slowness, he stood and turned to face her, the black mask looking right at her. 

Y/N tried to reach out to Inho once again when suddenly the frontman took out something from his pocket. It was the walkie talkie y/n had given Inho. She froze, fearing the frontman somehow managed to capture Inho while she was busy fighting the soldiers.

"Where did you get this ?" She gulped, taking a few steps closer to him, pointing the gun right at his chest “If you hurt him I swear-”

A low chuckle echoed across the room, y/n looked at the frontman who shook his head before raising his hands to take off the mask.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat and her heart dropped.

It was him. Hwang Inho.

In an instant, it felt like all the walls around her started to suffocate her and that the room progressively got smaller. Her brain couldn’t process what she was seeing. The man she had spent so much time with, the one who made her feel understood and the one who showed her what love felt like, was standing in front of her in a black coat with the black mask in his hand—the unmistakable mask of the Front Man.

“You—” she started, her voice cracking.

“Yes,” he said simply, his voice colder now, void of the warmth she had grown accustomed to.

Y/N’s mind raced, piecing everything together. All the times he had been quiet, watching, listening. The way he seemed to know more than he let on. She felt like the ground had been ripped out from under her.

“Why?” she demanded, her voice trembling.

“Why what?” he asked, stepping closer. “Why did I let you get this far? Or why am I standing here instead of stopping you?”

“Don’t,” she said sharply, raising the gun higher. “Don’t come any closer.”

The frontman—no, Inho—stopped, his hands raised in mock surrender. “If I wanted to stop you, Y/N, you’d already be dead. You know that.”

Her finger hovered over the trigger, her entire body shaking. “You knew. This whole time, you knew what I was doing. You were even helping me.”

"Helping is a big word. I’d rather say I was agreeing with your ideas and eventually giving you some clues from time to time.”

Her breath hitched. “What was your goal?”

He shrugged, his gaze unreadable. “I wanted to see how far you’d go. And now, here we are. I never doubted you though, I knew we'd meet here as I saw the ambition and determination in your eyes.”

For a long moment, they stood in silence, the weight of the truth settling between them. She hated him. She hated the games, the cruelty, the manipulation.

“I trusted you,” she whispered, lowering the gun slightly.

He stepped closer, this time without resistance. “And maybe you still can.”

Y/N’s heart pounded as he stopped just inches away, “What are you talking about?”

“Finish what you started,” he said simply, his voice low. “Shut it all down.”

Y/N stood frozen, her pulse roaring in her ears as his words settled over her like a suffocating fog. Her whole purpose for being here—to dismantle the games, to destroy everything he had built—now felt like a fragile construct teetering on the edge of collapse. And yet, she couldn’t deny the pull of his words, the horrible, awful logic they carried.

“You’re insane, Inho.” she whispered finally, her voice raw.

Hwang Inho didn’t flinch, didn’t react to her insult. “Maybe,” he said softly. “But if I’m insane then what does that make you?” He asked suddenly “You’ve killed for your cause, Y/N. You killed dozens of guards to get here. And now, here you are—standing in front of me with a gun, and yet you can’t pull the trigger. Why?”

The silence between them stretched, thick and heavy, until Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re trying to twist this,” she spat, her voice rising. “Trying to manipulate me into thinking we’re the same so I won’t stop you.”

His gaze followed her, steady and unflinching. “I don’t need to manipulate you, Y/N. You’ve already proven my point. You killed those guards to get here. You knew the risks, and you accepted them. You’re not here because you’re better than me. You’re here because you’re willing to do whatever it takes—just like I am.”

"I don't kill those people, Y/N," he continued, referring to the players “I don't force them to come here, I give them a choice. Moreover, after each game they have the choice to stay or continue. They kill the other players to survive and get more money, not me. People are so greedy for money that it makes them blind. They loose the privilege of being called human, they reveal their true nature — monsters.”

She whirled on him, her chest heaving. “Not everyone comes here by choice, some just don't have any other way. So you're wrong Inho-”

He approached her slowly, towering over her now, his presence overwhelming in the small space. “Tell me Y/N, what do you think will happen if you kill me ?” he asked, his voice cold but not unkind. “The people who run this—the VIPs—they’ll just start again somewhere else. Somewhere you can’t reach them. Do you really think killing me will end this? I'm a just a puppet who accepted the harsh reality of this world, Y/N.”

Her throat tightened, the weight of his words pressing down on her. She wanted to scream that he was wrong, that there was a way to stop it all. But she didn’t have an answer.

“Exactly,” he whispered, as if reading her thoughts. “You think you can destroy this, but all you’ll do is burn yourself out trying. And in the meantime, people will keep dying.”

“So what?” she shot back, her voice trembling. “You’re saying I should join you? Help you keep this nightmare alive?”

He didn’t answer right away. Finally, his voice softened as he said, “I’m saying you need to decide what matters more—your principles, or your survival.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding. “I’d rather die than become like you.”

A faint smile flickered across his lips, “That’s what they all say.”

Before she could respond, the door behind her suddenly opened, and two guards stepped inside. Y/N’s stomach clenched, her body tensing and she immediately raised her gun at them, turning her back to Inho who didn’t even flinch. 

"Don’t you get it Y/N ? We're like a mirror, reflecting the same truth from opposite sides." He gently put his hands on both of her arms, stepping behind her and looking at her side profile.

Y/N’s grip on the gun tightened, her breath catching. She shook her head sharply, the anger rising in her chest. “No,” she spat, her voice bitter. “You’re not me. You’re a killer. And I don’t care what you say—you’re not going to twist this into something else.”

His smile barely flickered. “Funny. I thought you would understand. The line between right and wrong is thin, Y/N. You kill for your cause, I kill for mine. But in the end, it’s the same thing, isn’t it?”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her ears, the room spinning for a second. It was true—too true. But she wouldn’t let him win. She couldn’t let herself be like him.

“No,” she repeated, her voice quieter but full of conviction. She took a step back, turning back to look at him, his hands brushing over her sides before leaving her body completely. The weight of the gun in her hand heavy.

This wasn’t what she signed up for, wasn’t what she had worked so hard for. But standing there, facing him, she realized just how dangerous his words were, how much of what he said hit too close to home.

Y/N stood in the doorway, gun still heavy in her hand, her heart beating erratically in her chest. She suddenly raised her gun and pointed it directly at his heart, her finger twitching over the trigger. She had made her choice—at least, that’s what she had thought. The mission. The goal. It all led to this moment. One pull and it would be over. But now, standing in front of him, the room filled with the echoes of her hesitation, the lines between right and wrong blurred in a way she couldn’t ignore anymore.

She had been ready to walk away, ready to follow through, to do what she believed was right. But something inside her faltered, her resolve cracking like ice under pressure. He had been right about one thing—their reflection was too similar. She had spent so much of her life believing that she was the opposite of him, but with every step closer she took toward him, it felt more like she was staring into a mirror she had spent so long trying to avoid.

He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers, his gaze steady but somehow understanding. “You don’t have to fight it anymore, Y/N. We’re the same. We both do what we believe is necessary. You can either leave, and I will make sure to get you home safely, or you can stay with me and accept the world is a cruel place that can’t be saved.”

Her chest tightened, and despite her efforts to resist, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. There was something in his presence—something that made her feel understood in a way no one else ever had. She hated that it was him, hated that it was this—but she couldn’t deny the pull, the connection, the understanding that went beyond their roles in this twisted game.

For a moment, everything seemed to pause. Her breath, his movements, the weight of the gun—everything hung in the balance.

She lowered the weapon, her hands shaking as she realized the truth. She couldn’t walk away from him—not completely. She had tried, had convinced herself that she was different, that she was better, but deep down, she knew they were too alike. Too broken. Too far gone.

“I don’t want to be like you,” she whispered, more to herself than him, but it didn’t matter anymore.

“You already are,” he replied softly, but there was no malice in his words—only something darker, something that felt like acceptance.

And in that moment, something shifted inside her. She couldn’t fight it anymore. She couldn’t deny it anymore. Her feelings for him, no matter how twisted or complicated, were real. And maybe—just maybe—there was no escaping this dark connection they shared.

She looked up at him. She wasn’t sure if it was love or something darker that pulled her closer, but when she stood in front of him, their eyes locking, she knew one thing for certain: she wasn’t walking away. She couldn't.

“Stay” he said, his voice barely a whisper, but it held an undeniable weight.

He slowly leaned in and his lips met hers. Y/N didn't move away. She couldn't. She felt interlocked to him in a way she never did with anyone. She left the salty taste of her own tears during the kiss, feeling her heart betraying her own mind.

For a long moment, they stood in silence, looking at each other, two sides of the same broken coin, too entwined to walk away from each other.

The world outside didn’t matter. The game didn’t matter. In that room, at that moment, it was just the two of them. Together. Alike.

[ikkyfics]

So Close, So Right

James Potter x f!reader

Summary: "I was thinking..." James paused, wetting his lips and continuing, his voice filled with a nervousness you didn’t usually see in him. "Can I kiss you? And if you don’t like it, you can give it back."

Warnings: none - i think

Masterlist

The sun poured over the Hogwarts gardens on a lazy afternoon, warming the soft grass and filling the air with a fresh scent that seemed impossible to recreate anywhere else. The place was peaceful, save for some distant laughter from other student groups scattered across the grounds. But for you and James, it felt like the world had shrunk to fit only the space of the blanket he had laid down under the shade of a tree.

James was lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, while his eyes—those vibrant blue eyes behind the lenses of his glasses, which you could never ignore—followed every one of your movements. His hair was messier than usual, a dark chaos that seemed to refuse any attempt at order, but somehow made him look even more charming. He absentmindedly fiddled with a piece of grass, a mischievous smile playing at his lips, as if he was thinking of something you didn’t know yet.

You let out a contented sigh before lying back on the blanket, closing your eyes and allowing the warmth of the sun to caress your face. Moments like this were rare, and you found yourself silently thankful for it. But more than that, you were aware of James' presence. It was always like that with him, as if he occupied all the space around you without even trying.

James was watching you with an intensity he could barely hide. His eyes moved over your face, absorbing every detail: the curve of your lips, the way the sun seemed to play on your cheeks, the relaxed expression that made his heart stumble in his chest. As much as he tried to act like the casual friend he had always been, there was something different about that afternoon. Something he knew he couldn’t ignore anymore.

"Are you enjoying it?" he asked, trying to sound casual, but the roughness in his voice betrayed him.

"So much," you answered without opening your eyes, your voice calm.

James hesitated for a moment, his fingers toying with a blade of grass before letting it go. He leaned a little closer, his hand hovering in the air for a moment before deciding what to do. When his fingers finally touched your hair, it was so light that it almost felt like a whisper. He ran them through your strands, watching how they looked even softer under the sun's glow.

Your heart raced, but you didn’t move or open your eyes. You didn’t know what James was doing, but the gesture was so tender, so different from his usual self, that you didn’t want to interrupt.

"James?" Your voice came out low, hesitant, but filled with curiosity.

"Yes?" he replied, his voice dipping into an almost husky tone.

You opened your eyes, finding him leaning over you, his face closer than it should have been. His fingers were still playing with your hair, now moving in a slower, almost hesitant rhythm.

"What are you doing?"

The question made him smile, and he tilted his head a little, as if pondering the answer. The mischievous gleam in his blue eyes shifted to something deeper, something that made the air around you feel different, heavier.

"I was thinking..." He paused, wetting his lips and continuing, his voice filled with a nervousness you didn’t usually see in him. "Can I kiss you? And if you don’t like it, you can give it back."

The world seemed to stop for a moment. You blinked, processing the words he had just said, the meaning behind them curling in your chest in a way that almost hurt. He kept looking at you, his expression torn between expectation and a certain fear.

"James..." You started, your voice softer than you had intended.

"You don’t have to answer now," he said quickly, his fingers still in your hair, now moving in a rhythm almost soothing. "Just... think about it. Because I have, and I can’t stop thinking about it."

There was something so vulnerable in his confession that your heart ached. He wasn’t the James everyone knew in that moment. He wasn’t the confident, charming boy who always seemed to have the right words. He was just... James. Your James.

And in that moment, all you wanted was to say yes.

You took a deep breath, as if preparing yourself to leap off a cliff, but instead of fear, all you felt was the certainty that, this time, there was nothing to be afraid of.

"I don’t need to think," you said, your voice soft but firm.

His fingers, still playing with your hair, froze for a moment. James’ eyes widened slightly behind his glasses, a perfect reflection of the surprise he was feeling. He blinked a few times, as if wondering if he had heard you correctly.

"You don’t need to...?"

"No," you repeated, propping yourself up slightly, supporting yourself on your elbows to get closer to him. The movement brought your faces even closer, and you felt the warmth of the sun give way to the heat of his presence, so intense that it seemed to envelop everything.

James blinked again, but this time, the corner of his lips began to curve into a smile so radiant that it seemed to light up more than the sun itself. He laughed, a short, nervous laugh, as if trying to absorb the moment.

"Are you serious?" he asked, his voice thick with a nervousness you had never seen in him before.

"Yes, James," you answered, your voice quieter now but full of sincerity that left no room for doubt. "I’m serious."

His gaze softened, his blue eyes locking onto yours as if they were the only thing that mattered in the world. You noticed how different he seemed in that moment—not just vulnerable, but also absolutely sure of himself, as if he knew this was one of those choices he would never regret.

"So, does this mean you're going to let me kiss you?" he asked, the shadow of a playful smile returning. But there was something deeper behind his words, something that made his heart beat so fast that you could almost feel it.

You smiled back, a small smile, but full of meaning. "It means I want you to kiss me."

The words had barely left your mouth before he closed the space between you. It wasn’t a rushed or desperate movement, but one full of care, as if he wanted to memorize every second it took to reach you. When his lips finally touched yours, it was as if the world stopped spinning.

The kiss was soft, a perfect mix of hesitation and desire. His lips were warm, with such a delicate touch that you felt a wave of heat rise through your body. The hand that had been in your hair moved to your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle circle on your skin, while the other hand pressed into the blanket, as if he needed to anchor himself to avoid losing his balance.

You kissed him back with the same intensity, your fingers clutching his shirt, feeling the fabric in your hands as your heart beat too fast in your chest. There was a sweetness to the moment, a sense that everything was finally falling into place, as if this was inevitable.

When you pulled apart, both of you were out of breath, but neither of you seemed willing to fully distance yourselves. James kept his hand on your cheek, his thumb still softly caressing your skin. He smiled, a smile so full of happiness that it seemed to infect everything around you.

"I didn’t like the kiss," you said, the tone too casual to be convincing, but enough to make James freeze.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard, and opened his mouth to protest, but seemed lost, his expression flickering between confusion and disbelief. "What? How can you not have liked it?"

You almost laughed at his expression, his blue eyes wide behind his glasses, his mouth opening and closing as if he were trying to find enough words to argue.

"Well," you continued, biting your lip to hold back the smile, "I guess I’ll have to give it back."

It was only then that the memory of what he had said earlier hit him, and you saw his surprise dissolve into something softer. The corner of his lips curled slowly, a glimmer of understanding appearing in his eyes as he looked at you.

"Ah," he murmured, his voice low, the tone a little huskier. "So, that's it. You're going to give it back, huh?"

"Yes," you answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, but the smile playing on your lips revealed that there was more to it than just a simple exchange.

Before he could respond, you were leaning in again, closing the small gap between you. This time, you took the initiative, and his initial shock was quickly replaced by the same intensity as before.

The second kiss was different—firmer, more confident, as if both of you knew exactly where you were and what you wanted. His fingers slid down the side of your face, to the back of your neck, while you felt your heart race again, though this time, you didn’t want to control it.

When you pulled away again, still so close that your foreheads almost touched, he let out a low laugh, a sound that seemed to come straight from his chest.

"Okay," he murmured, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "You definitely can’t give this one back now. I think you liked it more than you're willing to admit."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Conceited," you replied, but couldn’t stop the smile that widened on your face.

He smiled back, looking happier than ever. "With you? Always."

[eightstarr]

pacify — sevika.

summary: is it possible to miss a stranger, or does one thing negate the other? maybe you miss sevika because she isn't a stranger, because she stuck her claws far too deep in you and never let go— or just because she looks really fucking good sitting there, looking at you like she's waiting for you to say "hello again".

warnings: mild descriptions of violence, smut (mdni!), pre time jump sevika!

notes: my thesis with this one is that eating out a woman you love will revolutionize you in a way nothing else can and i'm joking but also dead serious. also dear god please me and who… okay bye i love you

・。.・゜✧・. ────

“You know, I’ve always liked this place the best.”

It’s the first thing you remember him saying, blue uniform to match his now slightly reddened eyes, vile alcohol in his breath. You’re at a different bar, not Vander's, the first actual job you ever had if you don't count what came before— the shiny rock of a stranger’s ring in your pocket, another’s gold coins in your bag, all from the quick trips to the city above with your father. “It’s not difficult to steal from a Piltovan,” he’d say, squinting at the engraving on the inside of a sparkly bracelet, a small bounty spread over the kitchen table, “they’re all show, all ego.”

Now watching the smirk on the Enforcer’s face after he downs his fourth glass without taking a breath, a laughable skill for an audience of no one, you find it hard to disagree with your father’s assessment. The well nurtured instinct to wonder what you’d get if you slipped your fingers inside the pockets of his tailored jacket grows loud and tempting in your head, but you shove it away and keep your eyes on the dusty floor you’re meant to sweep, determined to keep this job.

“The drinks are better than up there, I’ll give you that,” the drunk man continued, half empty fifth glass tipped dangerously towards the brooding barman, your only coworker tonight. There’s barely anyone left in the bar at all except a couple regulars. Tension has been brewing through the entirety of your shift, an argument in one of the booths during your first hour, a drink on someone’s face by the third, a wave of tired scoffs when the man in uniform walked in near the end of the night; the last nail on the coffin. In your head, you’ve listed all the possible exits you could use to escape enough times to memorize them.

The man takes a surprisingly controlled sip, thin lips furrowed in a grimace. “Wish it was enough to make up for that fucking stench.”

The air in Zaun is different to foreigners. You’ve never minded it the way they do. It's your air, the first to ever fill your lungs, the one you’re so used to that you can feel the way it shifts— the way it becomes a stench, as he called it, when blood is about to be spilt.

The barman does, to his credit, offer you the chance to leave. Or orders it, morelike, his sharp eyes meeting yours and then a tilt of his head towards the door. Maybe he pities you for the nerves splashed all over your face, or maybe he’d just find it a shame to lose an employee he hired barely a month ago. “You. Out.”

“Out?” the Piltovan repeats, turning his head, his voice grossly high pitched. “Why? What's gonna happen now?” he’s drunk enough that you notice the seconds that pass before his eyes properly focus. You remember the exact way his smirk faded, the deep-set wrinkles between his eyebrows when he recognized your face, a nauseating anger. “No. No, you don't move.”

Enforcers never go anywhere alone. Maybe the man had just remembered this, just now realized the true risk of his cockiness when it's not backed up by two or three of his colleagues. Maybe that's why he finds it easy to target you rather than the angry figures lurking in the tables behind him. Maybe that's why he draws his gun so fast.

“I know you, little thief—”

A woman approaches at the same time he does, and you don't know why exactly you decide to focus on her instead. A plea, maybe. You remember the dull gray of the brass knuckles on her fingers, the thick leather belt hung around her lower waist, the thump of her boots against the old floorboards. You've never noticed her before. How ridiculous it feels to think that she was there all night. How lovely that she could be the last thing you see. There's comfort in her being there, a morbid, sad thing that feels almost like company. At least you’re not alone in the room with the monster, at least there's someone to watch you die. 

Her hand falls on the Enforcer’s shoulder and she pushes him back with little effort, the quickest movement, almost without thought. The man stumbles (blame the well praised alcohol or Sevika’s strength), and the glass that had stayed in his hand shatters against the edge of the bar at the same time his gun fires a loose shot to the wall behind you.

Next comes a blur, a vague memory of hearing the Enforcer hiss in pain, a thread of red spilling down the open palm of his hand.

“You got somewhere to go?”

Her voice is the first and only thing that brings you back, the only sound louder than the heartbeat pounding in your ears. She sounds smooth, clear-headed, not like a woman who just stepped in the middle of the fastest paced violence you’ve ever encountered. Gray eyes move across your face, then the rest of you, and you quickly look down at yourself as if to check along with her that you’re actually unharmed.

Your lips feel awfully dry when your tongue brushes against them, enough air passing through to let you breathe, but not quite talk. You nod your head and remember in a rushed, distorted thought— somewhere to go, yes, home, now.

Sevika returns your nod, small praise, an odd way of saying something like good job. Less odd than the quiet satisfaction you feel for having earned it. She tilts her head towards the door, short black hair brushing her shoulder, her voice the kindest you’ve ever heard to this very day. Perhaps the thing you remember most. “Go on, love.”

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Years pass, deaths and joys and new odd jobs, and you still think about it. She sits at the back of your head like a softly worded reminder. And then one day, as things go, you find her again. Her making a deal at the back of The Last Drop, you behind the bar serving drinks.

There's a chance she doesn't remember it. What are the odds that she thought about you at all after the incident? You were just a stranger on a random night. It's not often that people fully understand the weight of what they did for someone, the trickle down of an action, of a kindness. There's a chance for you to go home, alone and unchanged. Instead (and not for the first time) you work for an hour longer, unpaid labor for a chance to serve her a drink.

Sevika doesn't come every night. You see her maybe once a week, talk to her maybe once a month. You don't expect tonight to be any different, but—

“You gonna watch me all night?” she mutters it into her glass, swallows the last sip before she looks at you. The are tiny wrinkles beginning to form on the corners of her eyes now, along each side of her lips from her smiles. Watching her is entrancing, the easiest thing you do, as natural as drawing a breath. “What are you still doing here?”

You blink downwards at the washed glass in your hand, continue to dry it like it could ever be half as interesting as being under her spell. “Working overtime.”

“Vander can't afford to pay you overtime,” Sevika scoffs, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smirk. 

You frown, maybe a little flustered. “He—”

“She's right. Why are you still here?”

The man himself stands tall to your left, glaring at this one permanently stained spot on the bar, working at it with a rag like he hasn't tried the same thing a hundred times before. There are dark shadows under his eyes, a purple hair tie on his wrist— Powder’s, if you were to guess. You’ve grown close to Vander since you met him, even closer when he hired you to work here. “‘S not a favor,” he’d said, quickly catching the suspicion on your face. “Just a gesture to him.” Turns out a lot more people knew your father than you thought; Vander isn’t old enough to have grown up with him, but they still found ways to end up at the same places. If he hadn’t been so secretive about who he was beyond the man who raised you, maybe you would’ve met Vander years ago, became friends at some bar in your teen years instead of at a diner a few days after your father’s funeral. But gaining a friend is a timeless thing, it obeys luck, not sensitivities. One day he wasn’t there, and then the next he was.

You spray some cleaning liquid over the spot on the table, roll your eyes as he leans closer to wonder at how the stain begins to slowly fade. “I’m working,” you repeat.

He looks at you from the corner of his eyes, one eyebrow raised. “I ain’t paying you.”

“I know, okay? It's fine,” you cross your arms over your chest, embarrassed to have been caught even though neither Vander nor Sevika seem to know what the real reason behind you staying late is. “It's a busy night, take it as a favor.”

“I can't afford favors.”

“Good thing they’re free, then,” you deadpan.

Sevika chuckles at the banter, forever amused at your unreserve, how simple you make things. It makes no sense to her to be that generous, that open, but it makes even less sense to think that you’d be any other way. Sevika isn’t particularly trusting, but she is loyal— the more you talk, the more watching you becomes addicting, her thing. She fixates on learning new things about you, clings to your words like a cat to its owner’s scent and wonders, over and over and over, if you remember her. From all those years ago. From last week. With you, she’d take anything.

And when she does finally see you up close, finds a good enough excuse in asking you for fire or a refill, there's little you could ask that she would say no to. It's senseless and thrilling and above all, it's true. She feels it down to her bones, painfully clear, like it's written all over her face.

“What do you do, Sevika?”

Sit and wait for you, she thinks, and instead replies, “What?”

“For work,” you clarify, your hand against the bar, leaning slightly forward. “I see you every week and I still don't know.”

You do know what she does, at least as much as anyone else does— too little to run your mouth, enough to stay away. And if you didn't know, you know her enough to be certain that she wouldn't tell you. It's a pointless question. Unless, of course, you’re as infatuated as you are.

Sevika takes another gulp of her drink, her eyes tracing over the line on your waist where the apron ties behind your back, the soft curve that the pull of it forms. She needs a smoke. “Same shit as everyone else,” she answers, and palms her pockets for a cigarette case. “What do you do? Other than this.”

“This is it,” you watch her flick open the case and shrug. You don’t sound particularly sad or frustrated, just plainly aware. “I pour drinks for people who all seem to do the same shit.”

Sevika hums, sets the case down, a click of metal against well worn wood. An unlit cigarette sits between her index and middle finger. “Be honest,” she starts, and it's the same voice that's been talking to you this whole time, but the gruffness still manages to catch you off guard. “Am I just as bad?”

You chuckle, the same addicting shimmer of genuineness in your eyes that she chases everytime you speak. “Just as bad as what?”

Her eyes follow your hands where they go to pull a lighter from the chest pocket of your apron. “The drunks that flirt with you while you do your job,” she lets the cigarette hang from her lips and leans forward.

“Hm,” you hum. The reflection of the flame sparkles in her eyes before you pull it away, orange against gray, odd and pretty. “I don't know.”

You’re not sure if she looks amused or slightly offended. It's a nice view regardless, the way her eyebrows lift and her lips curve downwards for a second before she breathes out, spilling smoke from her mouth as she talks, “You don't know.”

“I guess I didn't realize you were flirting with me.”

Sevika chuckles, a tiny half moon of a smile line on her cheek when she smirks, smugly aware of the way your eyes are looking at her. “You’re funny.”

Sevika is loyal. It would be easy to say that she doesn’t get what this feeling is, that it’s meaningless, that she doesn’t understand it— but she knows. She knows what it is even if it goes unnamed, because she’s the one deciding to keep it, stubborn and tight gripped, close to her heart. It’s in her dreams, in her first thought of the morning, in the disappointment that sours her mouth when she doesn’t find you at the bar. It’s in her stomach, tugging with need, when she looks at your face and realizes that if she asks if you wanna go home with her tonight, you will say yes.

She takes the leap. Parts her lips, names herself yours. “You wanna get out of here?”

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

You rarely pour your own drinks anymore. It’s a funny thing— Sevika doesn’t ask about your preference, which liquor is your favorite, if you’d like for her to do it for you. She figures it out like she does most things, making a study out of it, watching you enough. Maybe a little extra, too. The cork slides up with a pop!, her fingers around the neck of the bottle. The warmth of her still lingers on your thighs, your own fingers sitting restless over your lap now that her hair is not close enough to play with.

It’s been months since the first night she came home with you. You wouldn’t yet say that the newness is gone, or that you’re as quick of a student as she is, but there are things you know about Sevika already. Vivid truths, bright like the visions of her in the sunlight that you dream about sometimes. Reassurance is one of the first languages you learn from each other.

For Sevika, it's almost always about touch— you notice it immediately at the core of most of her silences, the way closeness makes her demeanor shift to something calmer, more true to herself. Slide closer to her on the couch and her arm will find itself around your shoulders immediately. Pat the empty spot next to you on the bed and she’ll let out a heavy sigh of relief, join you in sleep instead of torturing herself about tomorrow’s line of business. Part your lips when she's kissing you late at night with no goal other than to kiss you and she’ll let out a sound that vibrates through you and changes her mind on what was once an innocent gesture; she’ll tug your shirt off instead. Brush your hand over her shoulder when she's resting her head on your lap and she’ll guide it to her face instead, a lazy hold on your wrist while your thumb brushes her cheek. Coming to love her is the warmest science. But it’s not always exact.

You watch her pour you a drink at the bar table that sits in front of your bed— watch the dark hair that sits against the nape of her neck, messy and loose, watch the waistline of her pants sitting low on her waist, watch the bareness of her back. If there’s a reason why you decide to say it now, you don’t yet realize it. The words just spill out of you before you have a chance to stop them. “I remember you, you know."

Sevika’s hand hovers over the whiskey glass before she hums, resuming the movement and bringing it to her lips. "You didn't say."

“You didn’t ask,” you rest your back against the bed frame, watch her carefully.

The air sits still and you see her shoulders lift, muscles shifting as she shrugs, a big gulp of golden liquor sliding down her throat. Her voice comes in a mutter, low and almost shy, "Thought I might scare you off.”

The idea is so ridiculous that it's almost laughable. A startled chuckle dies in your chest and leaves room for aching sadness, your back leaving the frame as you lean forward and pray for her to turn around. "He was going to shoot me. Nobody moved a finger but you, Sev," you shake your head, try to manage your expression from saying too much, from confessing to something that’s been inside of you for years. At the tip of your tongue sits a raw desperation for this exact unraveling, for her. "How could you scare me?"

Another moment passes before Sevika turns to face you, lower back against the edge of the table, holding her drink down by her side. She won't look at your eyes— can't, maybe. You wonder if she's considering leaving, if she's already decided that she will, as soon as this is over. A part of you, small but dramatic and loudly pessimistic, is surprised that she’s entertained you this long. Even more surprised when she asks, "Is that what this is?" a turn of her head and the gray in her eyes finds you in a second, mechanical and unforgiving, the snap of a bear trap. You don't think you could look away if you tried. "Are you here because you think you owe me something?"

Your reaction is something close to a flinch, your frown deepening, feet firm on the floor instantly. "You can't seriously think that."

Sevika feels the regret come instantly. It splatters on her face, the pads of her fingers rough when they're brushed over her cheek to wipe herself clean of it like she does blood, gunpowder, fear. She watches out of the corner of her eye the way you part your pretty lips and can hear it in her head, imagine it so clearly, you asking her to leave. 

She's already reaching for her coat to make quick work of obeying your wishes when, instead of that, you ask, "You wanna know why I’m here?"

Sevika lowers her hand and the glass hits the table with a thud. Her head tilts to make the slightest nod— and that's as much of an answer as you'll get, you think.

“Look at me,” your finger sits under her chin, a touch barely there, the rise of her head more her choice than your doing. “You’re good, Sevika,” she grimaces, feels like she's swimming in gross viscous shame older than herself and barely surviving it. You press your thumb into her cheek, firm but kind, and keep her from being swept away by it. If she used to find your openness sweet, right now she finds it fucking miraculous. How can you call her good and mean it, how can someone else know so deeply that she could be, that she will be, when most days she doesn’t even know it herself? How can she look you in the eyes and deny you that truth? Her face relaxes, grimace replaced by an aching need as she listens to you. “I see it better than most, but they all catch up eventually. Whatever you put your mind to, you’re fucking good at it,” you pause, try to read her expression and find yourself unsure, but calm. How lovely to think that there's still so much to learn. “You don't owe me and I’m not trying to change you… you don't need—”

Sevika rests her hand over your cheek, a warm hum from her throat to acknowledge what you're saying, a desperate shake of her head to say but I do. “I need you,” her forehead falls against your own, in her brain a chant of please.

You look at her through your lashes, nod your head and feel warm, warm, warm. Her hand guides your face closer, a needy pull of her fingers where they press against the back of your neck, your whisper of “me too” spilled into her mouth. Sevika kisses like there's nothing in the whole fucking world she’d rather be doing, nothing that could possibly distract her. She has kissed you in nightclub bathrooms even with someone's knocks shaking the flimsy door, in alleys with her knuckles still bloody from a fight, dangerously close to opening hours with your back against the very bar where she rests her drinks every night. She's hungry, insatiable, and every time you can't wait to part your lips and let her in.

It takes godlike strength to hold on for as long as you do, but there's power in making her wait too, a satisfaction that feels drunk and just as divine as it makes its way down your spine. A few more chaste kisses take seconds or a century, and Sevika indulges them for as long as she can before she breaks, falls to her knees at your altar and breathes, “Please.”

There's nothing you like more than hearing her beg, except maybe what happens after you give in— the relief, the sigh against your mouth, the wet warmth of her tongue and the desperation in the way she pushes her body against you like she hadn't til then realized just how famished she’d been. Her hands wrap around your waist meanly, pressing indents, and you're too busy soothing your own hunger on her lips to realize that she's switched your positions.

You feel the harshness of the table against your back and pull away to look down, catch up, your daze maybe a little too obvious judging by the curl of her mouth. She's panting as much as you are, though, tongue peeking out barely to brush over her lips, tingly and wet from your kisses. “Up,” she says with a tilt of her head, more a warning than a command, her hands already down on your hips to get you sitting over the wood.

Sevika is a sight, pretty and inviting and overwhelming— you reach for her waist and pull, entranced by the way she follows, the way your legs interlock. A thin layer of sweat glimmers over her chest and you've never found so much beauty in the undercity’s humidity, never felt yourself get wet as easily as she makes it, never been so desperate to find some relief from the aching between your legs. Your thighs squeeze into Sevika’s and looking up to meet her eyes feels like a punch, like the sweetest blood, a sea of glazed-over gray barely visible against the black of her pupils. A mirror of your wanting; how the hunger grows when it meets reciprocation this delicious. You lean forward to taste it from her lips and she meets you halfway, a hand traveling up your spine and ending at your neck.

You don't know when you started grinding against her, but you know you want more. And you know Sevika’s holding back, savoring the same power you’d tried before, a smirk against your lips when she feels you speed up, hears you moan from somewhere deep in your throat. It suits her, the way she holds control. Sevika likes to wonder if she’d ever hold on longer, make you really wait. Sometimes she thinks she might, and then (like now) your voice fills her ears and clouds every thought that says anything other than please, god, fuck, let me make you feel good. “Don’t be mean,” you say this time, breathy and achingly sweet. “Please, Sevika.”

The first grind of her thigh against your pussy makes you end a kiss with your teeth biting into the meat of her lower lip, rougher than you intended. “Fuck, Sev—” you say, cut yourself off with a gasp when she does it again. Sevika figures out the angle unsurprisingly quickly, a hand on your hip and another on your ass to guide you back and forth at a rhythm that matches the movement of her own hips, enough fervency behind it that you know she needed this as much as you did. Maybe more, judging by the groans she spills on your neck every time you press up into her.

Full lips kiss at your pulse, open mouthed, her breath cool against your skin when it meets the wetness she left there. Your nails rake over her shoulder, over her scalp where your fingers are buried in between strands of dark hair— and when Sevika groans it sounds raw, a broken noise, her hips moving desperately faster. You can feel her warmth on your thigh and you've never wanted so badly to have her undressed, laid out, rubbing her pussy against you, leaving a mess on skin rather than the fabric of your pants. She's getting carried away, you know it, chasing her high and barely giving you a chance to catch up. You've never wanted anything more than to let her use you.

“You feel so fucking good,” she grunts, wrecked with need for you to pacify when she lifts her head from your neck, her eyebrows furrowed. You watch her get lost on your lips and you can imagine what they look like, how plump she left them, how the pride of that must simmer in her lower abdomen. Her thumb brushes over them once, then again, and you barely register that she's asking for permission before your mouth moves on its own accord to let her index and middle finger inside. It's filling, just what you needed; how beautifully unsurprising that she knew it more than you did, or that she needed it just the same.

You're fully caged in now, your back pressed against the wall, Sevika’s free hand on your waist still steering you back and forth on her thigh. “Too— hm, fuck,” her fingers slide out of your mouth and press wet indents into your cheek as she holds your jaw, traps you in her eyes. She’s far too gone to warn you but she doesn't have to, it's so painfully clear. Her eyes two dark pits to swallow you whole, lips parted, the grinding brutal and so fucking good— she says it until she can't form the words anymore, her head tilted back, thighs stuttering and tightening around your leg as she comes.

Your tongue tastes the skin of her bared neck and you feel yourself get closer and closer, fed by the feeling of her nipple under the pad of your thumb, by the shaking moans she spills into your ears as you keep grinding against her. Sevika must feel it too, in the same way you did, notice the change in your breath or the speed of your hips— because she pulls away and knows to soothe the needy desperation on your face with a messy kiss before she gets down on her knees.

“Shh,” her shushing comes soft and agonizingly kind, your whines barely contained as she presses kisses to the inside of your thighs. “What happened to my patient girl?” she asks, a tilt of her head and a smirk, the meanest angel.

Your palms press onto the table to lift yourself up enough to let her slide your pants and underwear off in one motion. “Spoiled me too much,” you answer, your mind foggy, drunk on the sight of her kneeling in front of you.

It takes Sevika a moment to reply, the pads of her finger pressing into your thighs. Her eyes meet yours and she wants to tell you, how could I not? You’re not trying to change her, you’d said, but you do. These days, she doesn't think about anything else like she used to— I love you prefaces everything. I love you, so I’m winning this stupid fight and making some money. I love you, so I gotta get home alive. I love you, so I think we could change this city. I love you, you should have every-fucking-thing. But Sevika's not really a woman of many words, especially not when you're looking at her like this, especially not when she's this hungry, so she shrugs her shoulders and says (like it explains everything, and maybe it does), "Look at you.”

The intensity of her makes your legs squeeze together, but you barely make it an inch before she’s pulling them apart and hooking them over her shoulders exactly how she likes.

Your face feels like it's burning, heat crawling up your neck, your grip on the table tight. “Please.”

Sevika barely manages to pry her eyes away from where you're open and glimmering, soaking her fingers after just one brush of them against your lips. Her voice comes out strained, drowned in hunger. “Please what?” 

You must sound worse, but the thought barely registers, hardly matters. “Please, Sevika, make me come.”

And she does— pretty nose bumping perfectly against your clit whenever her tongue is too busy inside you, her lips shiny and wet and relentless. Like everything else, she's fucking good at it.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Black, Purple, and Blue

AN: fluffy goodness 😘💕

Synopsis: The amount of times your husband gets hit during the Ravens game quickly has you concerned, but he tries to reassure you that there is nothing to worry about

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a beautiful anon 😍

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Hit after hit after hit

You watched your husband get pummeled to the ground multiple times against the Ravens from the comfort of your bed at your home in Cincinnati and it seemed as if there was no end in sight. Multiple people had asked if you wanted to watch the game with them, but you quickly decided against it. You would rather be at home by yourself and not be at some random bar hearing people drunk off their asses talking about your husband if he were to lose.

A fight almost ensued between you and another fan during Joe’s second season with the Bengals and from that point on, you knew it wasn’t even worth your time. You knew Joe was an amazing quarterback and his stats proved it despite what people may say about him.

The game was not moving in the direction that you originally thought, but despite this you still held onto hope since the score was so close.

Joe had confessed to you earlier in the week how anxious and nervous he was for this game and it was to be expected. They were playing in Baltimore on their turf, but seeing how the Ravens caused them an upset at home, it would only be right if the Bengals did the same thing.

Joe was always focused during the season, but it went to a different level when he was playing any team within the same division as the Bengals were.

When the Ravens had gotten the ball back, the camera suddenly cut to the Bengals sideline and you could see Joe wincing in pain as he was holding the left side of his body, Silently cursing to yourself before letting out a sigh, the wheels in your head began to turn and immediately thought the worst.

This time last year as he was playing the Ravens, he sustained his wrist injury that put him out for the rest of the season and the last thing you wanted was for him to go through that all over again. You saw the way it bothered him deep down, even though he thought he was being good at putting up a front for you.

Being married for a total of four years, you could see right through his bullshit and could immediately tell when something was off with him.

You took a sip of your strawberry flavored Truly as you saw Joe throw to Ja’Marr and end up with a touchdown and quickly placed it back down on the table in order to celebrate.

But now, it was time for your nerves to be turned up to another level because you saw them wanting to go for a two point conversion.

“You cannot be fucking serious right now.” You quietly said out loud, even though there was no one in the room but you.

During the play, someone on the Ravens defense had pulled Joe’s face mask and you were yelling at the television seeing as how they never even called it.

Suddenly, your phone rang next to you and you debated on whether you should answer it until you saw that it was your cousin Yalisa. Clicking accept, the first thing you heard was her yelling.

“Y/N! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON IN THIS GAME?! DO YOU SEE HOW MANY CALLS THEY MISSED?! And not them beating your husband like he stole something.”

“I’m so over this, I don’t even know anymore. It seems like they are personally working against them. Did you see him grab Joe’s face mask?”

“Yes! And that’s why I called you! Are the refs blind?!”

“Um, the only names I’ve heard all night are Joe and Ja’marr. It doesn’t seem like anyone else showed up to play today.”

“See? That’s why Joe is as ripped as he is now because he’s carrying this team on his fucking back!”

“And he keeps wincing, so I’m concerned because he has yet to seek medical attention. He just keeps going back in and I can tell that something is wrong with him.” You quietly said and tried to take a deep breath to help ground you from the uneasy feeling that was creeping in.

“I guess he sees it as he has to go back in because who the fuck else is going to? They are seriously pissing me off. Is this the week that Zac gets fired?” She asked and you immediately stifled a laugh.

“As much as I would like that to become a reality, a lot more things need to change beside that one.”

It was one in the morning when your phone rang alerting you that you had a facetime call from your husband and you immediately answered.

The two of you stared at each other as you noticed Joe was laying down. In order to get more comfortable, he adjusted himself and you once again saw him wince. But before you could say anything about it, you heard his voice.

“I didn’t wake you up did I?” He asked and you simply shook your head no.

“No, and you know I always wait for you to call me before I go to sleep. I have to hear your voice one way or another.”

“And hearing your voice has to be my favorite thing in the world. I just can’t wait until tomorrow when I actually get to hold you.”

“I can’t wait for that either and I am going to fix all your favorite comfort foods and we’ll eat ourselves into a food coma to get through this.” You replied as you brought the comforter higher up your body since you were getting cold.

“While watching rom coms of course.”

“A man that knows a way to my heart.” You told him and he gave you a small smile.

It was quiet for a few seconds and then you spoke up again.

“Baby?”

“Yes?”

“I saw you wincing during the game. I don’t like when you wince.”

“I’m okay, really. It’s not a big deal.”

“Joey, don’t give me that. You got hit multiple times. If something happened then…”

“I promise that I’m okay, just a little sore. I already took the motrin that you slipped in my bag for me earlier.”

“Well someone has to do it seeing as you always forget.”

“True, and I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Stop! Stop being so cute when you’re so far away and I can’t kiss you until you get back, it’s not fair.” You whined and Joe let out a small laugh.

“You can have all the kisses you want once you see me. Promise.”

“Joey? How are you and do not under any circumstances bullshit me right now because I will be on the first flight to Baltimore if you do.”

The deep sigh he let out before giving you a verbal answer was telling.

“Frustrated.”

“Go on.”

“It seems like there is a disconnect somewhere and I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Cough your coach Zac Taylor cough.”

“Well, that and there is something else. Just haven’t quite figured it out yet.”

“Can I be honest? You are amazing in your own right and even though I know that you already know this, Joey the last thing I ever want to happen is for you to in lack of better words waste your career for an organization that doesn’t quite seem like they value or care about you. Like, my husband is the shit and I’m not being biased. You are one of the best, if not the best, okay now I’m being biased. But, you’re amazing and I just want so much better for you. Do you know how much it hurts to see you so upset every week that you lose knowing that you show up every time for your team and give 100% while others don’t?”

—

Hearing the front door open from you and Joe’s shared office as you were working on your laptop, you immediately hopped up and ran to the foyer to greet him.

As soon as he spotted you, his bag was thrown to the side as he opened up his arms to embrace you as he placed several kisses on your lips.

When you did bring him in for a hug, once again you saw him wince.

“Joseph….”

“No, stop. I’m fine.”

“Hmm, pull up your shirt.”

“Damn, you want me to fuck you already? I was thinking…” Joe started to say, but you cut him off.

“No! Well yes, but not yet! Lift it.”

“But…”

“NOW.”

Once he did, you saw a black, purple, and blue bruise in the area where his ribs were on the left side and immediately gasped.

“BABY!”

“I’m fine, just a little bruised. I don’t want you to worry yourself.” He told you as he put his shirt back down and grabbed your hand as he kissed the back of it.

“A LITTLE bruise? It literally takes up a very good portion of your torso. And how can I not worry? My husband is a professional football player. Worrying is ingrained in my brain now. It got ingrained when I met you at LSU so stop.”

“Would it make you feel better that I got checked out before we got on our flight to come back home because it was bothering me when I woke up?”

“Yes. Kind of. But still!"

“And I’m fine. I promise like I said, and you're so cute when you worry about me."

"Not cute, I get flustered and pray nothing bad happens to you."

Crossing your arms, you nodded your head as Joe uncrossed them and leaned down to kiss you.

"Nothing is going to happen, and I'm going to need you to relax for me. Now that we got that out of the way, I’m also going to need my wife to lose her clothes.”

[dj-of-the-coven]

How to Burn Your Own CDs - a guide for Windows users

Are you--yes, you!--tired of paying money to stupid shit like spotify for your music? Do you hate the way that the music industry takes almost all the profit that bands make through streaming and leaves them with pennies? Have you ever wanted to fire up that old CD-Radio in the corner of your bedroom, only to be stopped because all you have on CD is Weezer's blue album and a copy of Kidz Bop 16 that you don't remember buying? Well this guide just might be for you!

Materials you'll need:

A computer. Can't do it without this one.

A CD drive. It can be internal or external, but you'll need one either way. You can find them at Office Depot for fairly cheap and I've heard that some Walmarts carry them.

A pack of CD-Rs. CD-Rs, or CD Recordables, come in packs of 20, 50, or 100. A proper 100-pack should cost you no more than $30, so unless there's some special shortage in your area, don't buy from anywhere selling them at a markup. CD blanks are literally 50c a piece.

CD cases. Sold wherever CD-Rs are, but you can also find these at thrift stores pretty easily.

A sharpie or some kind of permanent marker

Software you'll need:

Jdownloader. You can acquire mp3s through Bandcamp if you're dedicated to righteousness, but for everyone else, install jdownloader or some other kind of open-source download program. I will be proceeding as if you have jdownloader available.

Windows media player. This should open automatically when you insert a CD-R into your CD drive.

Fre:ac audio converter. This is only for the occasion that you encounter OPUS or mp4a files that cannot be interpreted by your CD player.

Note: If you're very determined not to download software onto your computer, you can use free youtube downloaders and audio converters, but these are subject to viruses and other issues such as download speed. I will be proceeding as if you have the programs I listed.

The process:

Decide what you want to burn--anything goes, but keep in mind the time limit on your CD-Rs. Most will record 90 minutes or less.

Open jdownloader, switch to the linkgrabber tab, then paste youtube links in any order until you have all the music you want. I'd personally recommend doing it song-by-song instead of a full album stream, because a massive file will require a lot of work to separate back into searchable tracks.

De-select all files except audio on the right-hand side options menu.

Make a folder inside the music folder of your laptop and label it with the name of your mix CD.

In the properties tab of each song on jdownloader, change the destination folder to the folder you've just created.

Hit "start all downloads".

Once finished, open each folder. If everything is an .mp3 or a .wav, skip the next 2 steps.

Open Fre:ac audio converter to convert all audio files that aren't .mp3 or .wav into .mp3 or .wav.

Drop the converted files next to the unconverted files in your folder. If you wish, you can delete the originals to make the folder easier to browse.

Put your blank CD-R into the CD drive. If external, plug in your CD drive first or the tray will refuse to open.

Windows media player will open automatically. On the right-hand side, you will see the tracklist of your CD-R (which should be blank). On the left, you will see the audio that your computer is able to find in the music folder. Put your selected tracks IN ORDER onto the tracklist.

Listen to the beginning and ending of each track to make sure there isn't a significant time gap. This also prevents accidentally burning a youtuber's stupid outro if you missed it before.

When satisfied, hit "start burn".

On an external drive, the CD tray will open upon completion. You can reinsert it to ensure that the burning went smoothly.

Once satisfied, remove the CD from your drive. With your sharpie or permanent marker, write the name of the album on the front, then store safely inside a CD case.

you did it👍

Ask me if you run into any issues.

Legal disclaimer: this guide is purely for educational purposes and I do not admit to or take responsibility for any piracy committed using the instructions given.

Illegal disclaimer: cops suck my dick

[paymechildsupport]

Too Sweet // Satoru Gojo x Baker!Reader ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 🍡

-!! M!Reader

—————————⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚————————

-❛ં Satoru began to visit your grandmother’s bakery ever since he started teaching at Jujutsu Tech. The little, family owned business was easily his favorite place in the entire world. He took one bite of your grandmother’s homemade apple pie and was immediately in love. It just felt wrong to go anywhere else every morning before class for some sugar. And Satoru was *far* from unfaithful. Plus, other than sweets, there was something else your grandmother’s humble bakery had that no other place could….

You! Her grandson, her pride and joy, her talented little apprentice. Every morning Satoru would stop by, stroll right in the second the store opened, all in the hopes of maybe catching a glimpse of you stocking the display, or manning the register. Usually, he could catch the silhouette of your figure in the kitchen behind the counter, and on those few times you did notice him, and gave him one of your most dazzling smiles, Satoru’s day is made 10x better

-❛ં Sometimes he wonders if you’re just made of sugar yourself,— with the way you make his heart just race and his chest constrict, just like when he downs 10 powdered donuts in one sitting. He could feel his teeth rotting with each warm expression you gave his way, the way you had him in the same feverish ectsady as a sugar rush. Of all the things in your grandmother’s bakery, Satoru can’t help but think you’re the sweetest , (and the tastiest).

the one who inherited the business following her tragic (albeit expected) passing, and soon it was you who stocked the display every day. It was you who took his morning, afternoon, and sometimes late-after-dinner-snack orders. Satoru couldn’t help himself, — he swore it was purely for the sweets, - you did make the best treats- but everyone knew otherwise. And no one knew more than poor Megumi….

Just about everyday he’d get his breakfast from you. At this point you’ve cooked more meals for the kid than Satoru himself has. The poor boy was likely the ultimate victim of Satoru’s little obsession. He’d drag him every single morning before school to pick something sweet up. You two became known on a first name basis a while ago. Still, Megumi couldn’t complain much, considering as you did cook better meals than the enigmatic white haired bastard

-❛ં Your first impression of Satoru: filthy rich, and wayyyy to confident. In fact, the only reason your grandmother liked him so damn much was the fact that he was practically funding the whole place. No doubt you’ve racked in dozens of thousands of dollars from him over the years. Half the time he’d give you much more than what was actually necessary, only to tell you to ‘keep the change’ of what would be thousands of yen

He’d come sauntering in every morning at the crack of dawn, blinding you with a smile that’s way too big for a Monday morning, and slide right in by the counter. Letting his sunglasses fall down his face, he’d look up at you with freakish blue eyes through snow white lashes, telling you his typical order

-❛ં He practically combusts on the spot the day he comes in to see you clad in your usual apron, wearing a smile so saccharine it makes his heart just explode. And when he finds out you made a new recipe just for him? Based off of all his favorite deserts (that you took the effort to personally remember??) Oh, he’s gone. Just deceased

He sees the flour dusted on your cheek, and he can’t help but fantasize about reaching out and just wiping it away.

————————————————————————

[xo-codbby]

blue-collar!141 x reader

got brainrot 😵‍💫 continued from here

"maintenance" a rough voice calls out as they knock thrice, waiting out on the door step. it was a rare thing they would do check ups, even more rare that they would go out their way to check up on a customer. but you were different, they'd taken an immediate liking. plus they had just renovated your home, they had to make sure everything was in working order. all sorts of trouble could arise with a new home and their loyal customer deserved the very best

"c'mon pretty, we're roasting out here" price wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, blowing out some air as he squints back at your front door still unlocked

you were not aware of this however, it seemed to be a surprise check and you could not be more inconvienced. you had been in the middle of assembling some new furniture, quickly heading to the mirror to make yourself a little more presentable

the check up had been weird, they didn't usually do it to anyone else. completing their service and then disappearing, only being called back when they were required. hardly coming on their own will with the whole team, no less. your heart hammered in your chest, looking at them through the covered window. they looked casual, relaxed as they spoke between themselves and then glancing back at the door. price and ghost leaning against the fence while gaz toyed with the handle. soap trying to peek in the window, casually obviously, he had some class

"just a sec" you called out, grimacing slightly as you quickly sort everything out. the drills lay on the tiles, the wood still needing to be fixed together with the screws rolling everywhere and the instructions lost somewhere in the box. but you didn't have much time to fix that, trying to brush yourself down. finding it a little odd how they picked a time you'd be home, almost calculated but you didn't dwell on it too long before you reached for the front door

the sight of them still made you breathe in shakily, first greeted by gaz and soap, then ghost and price standing behind. all eight eyes staring at you intently, lips pulled in a half smile. their presence was huge, figures bigger than usual men you've seen before. barely waiting for your word, walking inside. they were dressed in causal clothing, belts around their waist donning their tools and muscles straining from the heat and the work they had done before they came over

"well, what do we have 'ere?" ghost tilting his head ever so slightly, half amused as he looks down at you and then the cupboard you were currently trying to fix. his balaclava obscured his features, aside from his eyes but you've seen his face before. the image of him leaving the shower had burned into your mind, being able to wish to trace every feature so tenderly with a finger and wonder how he'd taste. from his cologne, his heady musk and the slightest hints from the earthy scent he usually was surrounded by

"you're constructing this all by yourself?" gaz gently moves the planks of wood out of the way, half chuckling as he narrows his eyes at you. leaning against the counter, adjusting his cap his shoulder bumping into yours

"aye sweetheart, don't ye have a man to help around?" soap hummed knowingly, taking the hammer from your hands as he holds it in his palm setting it down. his comment holds teasing, you're aware of that much but you wonder if there's a hidden meaning when he glances at the others and then back at you. surely not

"no, it's... just me" you nodded back, looking at the mess on the floor and then back up at the team. they seemed to glance at each other relatively quickly, looking at you with amusement and slight nods

"well we'll take that from you, darling. can't have a pretty thing like you gettin 'er hands dirty" price hums, gently taking you by your arm to stand between them. the four men already making themselves home but you pretty sure this service wasn't listed anywhere on their website, nor had any customers had spoken up about it.

"what are you guys doing here?" you asked raising your brow looking at them as ghost shrugs nonchalantly looking around your home, picking up the screws from the floor as he twirls them between his fingers

"jus' being thorough love. checking over quality assurance, any hidden problems, warranty protection. and y'know, for your peace of mind. can't have you questioning our craft now, can we?" his brown eyes darkened for a moment, connecting with yours and it takes you everything not to shake. somehow he had this piercing glance, as if he could see in the very depths of your beings. as if you could spill your deepest darkest secrets to him and he would barely flinch. oddly enough, it wasn't a look that made you recoil or cower. you wanted to tell him everything, wanted to spill your secrets to him. to them all

price holds your hands, his thumb stroking your knuckle for a moment while gaz and soap assemble the furniture with ghost. you're delicately placed between all four, offering snacks and drinks but they seemed more content to have you like this instead. poor johnny hurt his arm so you tend to his wounds, no matter how little while he grins shooting looks at his team you're sure has nothing to do with you. the glare he got from simon, the scoff from kyle or the eye roll from price had nothing to do with you

and it was professional, of course it was. the brush of price's lips against your forehead, the tender touch of ghost, the caress from gaz and the nuzzle from soap was all in your head.

they wouldn't dare to cross that line, of course they wouldn't

[whateveriwant]

Hello, i hope you dont mind if i request agian! Could I get TF141 with an S/O who are just super prone to panic attack?

These are not meant to be taken as mental health advice. I'm just playing around here <3

Soap

The first time it happened, he didn't know what was going on. The sudden heavy breathing, the tremors, the loss of speech; he thought you were dying, honestly

It nearly sent him into a panic as he tried to figure out what he could do to help. Should you stay put or should you be taken to hospital? He just didn't know

However, once it had passed and you were able to better explain the situation, Soap was pulling you into a hug, the biggest breath of relief escaping him knowing you were going to be alright

He wasn't “happy” per se to learn this is something you struggle with regularly, but knowing there's at least something he could do to help in the future put his mind at ease

Nowadays he's got the drill down pat, so when he sees the signs an attack is incoming, he's whisking you to a safe environment where you can attempt to de-stress

Oftentimes it leads to him sitting beside you out on a curb somewhere, his warm hand rubbing soft circles into your back as he comforts you through it

Gaz

From the second he notices you start to pull away from him, Gaz is immediately on top of it, deploying a technique he's quite familiar with

“Tell me five things you can see,” he says, unbothered by having to repeat himself when you don't respond because he did not seriously just ask you that right now

But after enough prompting by him, you shakily list out five items, wet eyes darting around the room as you try to take stock of your surroundings

Once you do as bid, he'll continue, “Now four things you can hear.” And now you're starting to think you see where he's going with this

He'll work his way through all five senses, counting down to one, and once he reaches the final, you find that your pulse has slowed tremendously and your tremor has stopped entirely

Afterwards, you give him a shy thanks, asking how he knew that would work. “Simple,” he tells you. “Used to do it with my sister when we were young. It helped her then, so I thought it might help you now.”

Price

He takes the most heavy handed approach when trying to bring you down from such a rocky high. And while some people might find it smothering, you just see it as grounding

“Hey. Look at me,” his order is firm though his voice remains purposefully gentle. “Don't look anywhere else, just look at me. That's it. Just focus on me.”

If he has to, he'll even push a finger against your chin until you're meeting his eye and holding it, trying to focus on his soothing words instead of the anxious thoughts racing through your head

Slowly and deliberately, he'll breathe in through his nose then out through his mouth, guiding you to follow along with his measured pattern

If that's still not enough, he'll then take your hand beneath his and hold it over his heart, letting its strong, steady rhythm lull you back to a calmer state

“You alright?” he questions once you've settled down again. When you nod and assure him you are, he'll kiss your temple, promising, “I've got you, dear. Always.”

Ghost

When he realized what was happening with you, he quickly jumped into action, but in a way that was completely unexpected

“Remember when you first took me out for sushi and I didn't know wasabi was hot?” he asks you seemingly out of the blue. “Ate a whole spoonful before I realized. Burned like hell going down. But that was nothin’ compared to when it came out again later.”

The memory of that night stirs to life in your mind, and through your rapid breaths and trembling lips, you're able to crack the barest of smiles

He continues, “Or remember when I got sprayed by that skunk in the garden? You made me sleep on the couch for three days. Said I smelled like a garbage bin’s arsehole.”

That memory has you huffing out a short, low chuckle, and though you don't notice it, your pulse begins to hammer a little slower

And so he keeps going, distracting you with funny memories and personal anecdotes until all you're doing is smiling and laughing brightly, totally forgetting what had made you panic in the first place

[sanjisboyfie]

basketball player ! gojo satoru headcanons

gojo satoru x male reader

warning: short dialogue of homophobia (satoru deals with it swiftly though)

-> HE'S SO BABYGIRL IN THIS PHOTO.

basketball player ! satoru . . . who is even taller than canon because why would he be a professional basketball player and only 6'3 guys c'mon, bro has to be at least 6'6-6'8. but of course, he's not only gotten bigger, his ego did as well. add the fact that he's a good player...yeah, no one is safe from the cocky, lowkey-asshole basketball player gojo satoru. (except for you !!! because he acts like a complete and total sweetheart to you).

basketball player ! satoru . . . being so shamelessly and publically infatuated with you, his lovely, lovely, lovely boyfriend. he is always on top of you anywhere in public, makes sure you're always courtside, he needs to make sure his baby can see him.

during satoru's matches, he's always focused in. he doesn't really look at you that much and you do understand. he's trying to win, he hates losing. so he gives everything for his team to be the ones on top.

his tall figure moves cleanly across the court, making his team win more than 50% of the time. and when he scores that winning shot, he's running over to you first.

he's bulldozing through the people that are running to him because he can give less of a shit about them. his piercing blue eyes are focused in on you and only you. how your eyes are teary from how proud you are of him for making the winning shot, how high your cheeks are from that charming smile, and how your arms are already open and expectingly waiting for him.

he powers through the crowd and takes you into his arms, grinning into the skin of your neck before pulling away and proudly kissing you in front of everything and all the cameras.

the crowd loves it, the deafening screams from the stands are enough to show for that. they love how openly in love satoru is with you, how completely smitten he is.

his arms are bound around your waist and he's easily hold you up in his arms as he spins the two of you around. you're in your own world as you laugh at his antics and hold on tight to his sweaty torso to not lose balance.

"i love you, sweet boy," he whispers into your ear, looking at the cameras that are all around him with nothing but pure euphoria in his eyes. "i love you so much, couldn't have done it without you. it's all for you, all of it,"

the world can't hear him, but they can read his lips. and twitter falls in love with that moment and use it to set their expectations and standards even higher than they already were.

shoutout gojo satoru for being so obviously in love with you.

basketball player ! satoru . . . who is always photographed beside you. if this man ever comes out of his home, it's only because you're also leaving your shared home and he cannot be alone for the life of him (plus, he just wants to be near his boyfriend all the time). the fans love you guys so much because of how lovey-dovey satoru gets with you, and only you. they've never seen him be so soft for anyone else.

satoru was draped over your back, craning his head down so that his face near yours. with your drastic height difference, it definitely made some passerbys look at you two with wide eyes.

an abnormally tall man trying to shrink himself down to the height of his boyfriend. satoru's arms were hanging in front of your torso, holding your shopping bags in his slender fingers with ease.

he was giggling in your ear, watching the tiktok that was playing from your phone. it was a silly comedy video, pressing his finger to the screen to open up the comments.

and then when it was finally your turn to order your drink at the cafe, he took the phone from you and continued on watching as you ordered. you rolled your eyes at his antics, muttering under your breath about how he was just a big, ipad man-baby.

the woman at the counter took your order as calmly as she could, recognizing you and the towering figure behind you. after ordering, you wordlessly took satoru's wallet out from the bag he was holding and dropped a hefty tip into the tip jar.

after pocketing his wallet back into your pocket, you had to physically drag him from where he was standing because he was so immersed in the tiktoks on your fyp that he didn't realize that you were done ordering.

as you waited by the counter, you took note of how there was now a swarm of papparazzi crowding around the exit of the humble cafe you two were in.

taking note of the mass amounts of people, satoru looked at you with a softness he only uses with you, "do you want me to call the guys? they can clear them up for us before we leave,"

you hummed, thinking about it before nodding, "yeah, these people didn't ask for those annoying cameras to be flashing through the window like that. it's so fucking rude," satoru nodded in agreement, taking out his own phone (which looked like a toy in his huge hands) and exchanged some words with his own team of security.

by the time your coffee was finished brewing and served to you, the papparazzi were being held off by a chain of bodyguards and being held at bay so that you two could peacefully leave the cafe.

the next day, pictures of you two leaving were trending on all social media. satoru's hand was around your shoulders in all of the photos, his hand around your shoulder was protectively blocking the side of your face that was being bombarded by the blinding flashes. a scowl was on his face as he walked through the crowd to your car. he opened the door for you first, walking around the front of the expensive vehicle and flipping the cameras off one last time before getting into the driver's side and speeding off.

"i was in the cafe, trying not to freakk out beacuse oh my god gojo satoru and [name] [last name] were right in front of me. and i swear the moment gojo noticed that he was uncomfortable with the people, he called his team or whatever to get all the paps out!!"

"they're so cute, do you see how gojo is holding him so close??? ughh literally goals!"

"seeing what gojo is like on and off court is crazy, thanks [name] for showing us his soft side <3"

basketball player ! satoru . . . uses every chance he gets to talk about you when he does press conferences or interviews. lovingly calls you his "baby," "hubby," or, "handsome boy."

basketball player ! satoru . . . god forbid someone say some sneaky shit to him about his relationship with you aka his sexuality. if someone tries anything with a backhanded comment about satoru's relationship with you, they will be dealt with swiftly and colorfully (as in, he will be cursing them out with zero remorse and no hesitation). because foh with that homophobic shit, satoru has no patience for that.

"so how have you and the mister been doing, gojo? you're nearly hitting the three year mark!" a very enthusiastic reporter asked, a wide grin on their face.

and satoru felt his lips tug up in a grin at the mention of you, holding the mic carefully as he spoke, "we're doing great, yeah, uhm, we got another cat - even though i told him i wanted a dog. it's a cute addition to our little family."

his response made the reporter only more giddy, going on to ask another question regarding your homey life together, before they were cut off by a rude person in the crowd shouting, "how does it feel to be acting like a fucking bitch dating another dude?! top paid player gojo satoru takes it up the ass!? you're fucking disgusting!"

satoru's eyebrows lifted in surprise at the audacity of the person, his blue eyes scanning the crowd for who was responsible for screaming that.

"sorry, whoever that was, could you just stand up?" he asked into the mic, his once cheerful and laid back tone turning into an intimidating rumble, "c'mon, don't be a pussy, where the fuck are you?"

the security grabbed ahold of the guy and satoru visibly blanched at the sight of him.

"say that shit again to my face, let's hear it," satoru goaded the man, who was now sweating bullets. "oh, don't give me that look! do you really think i'd let you say that shit without any consequences?" a sarcastic laugh left satoru's lips, "look into all these cameras, man, you're fucking ruined. no one wants a homophobic, ugly dude representing them and their company. no, because did you really think i'd let you disrespect my man like that?"

there was a hanging silence in the room as satoru glared at the man.

"don't even think about speaking about my relationship with [name] ever again. or else, you're really fucking dead. it's not a threat, it's a promise. i'll bash your head in," satoru said, slamming the mic onto the table and walking out of the grand conference room. he didn't even flinch at the flashes of the cameras, calmly putting his signature sunglasses down to block out the blinding lights.

that day, the only thing that calmed him down was holding you in his arms. his manager had called you to the greenroom since he was giving everyone a bad attitude, unintentionally, and borderline throwing a tantrum.

when he finally got you in his hold again, he apologized for his behavior earlier.

"don't apologize to me, apologize to your team who had to deal with your bullshit before i came," you lightly scolded him, running your hand through his soft locks. "are you feeling better, though?"

"better now that you're here," he squeezed around your waist, burying his head into your neck, "much better, thank you, baby,"

basketball player ! satoru . . . has his entire social media feed just be pictures of you and what you two do together. whether it's your latest, impromptu trip to hawaii or just a picture of you two cuddling in bed, you're all over his feed. his social media just screams how in love with you he is. his fucking profile picture is of you two cuddling in bed with his jersey very subtly seen as the only thing you're wearing. before that, it was just a picture of him and you kissing that he took when you went on your anniversary trip last year. his bio is the team he plays for, his jersey number, and then a white heart next to your username as he blatantly tags you in his bio. underneath that there might be a, "happily married" with the ring emoji next to it even though you two aren't even married yet.

basketball player ! satoru . . . who would spoil you rotten with everything you ever want. why would he have all this money if not to spoil you??? he just wants to make you happy with anything he can provide, and if part of that is him dropping bands on top of bands on whatever it is you want, then so be it. he doesn't care. he's willing to spend however much he needs to keep you happy and content.

satoru's win had encouraged him to treat YOU out to a mall trip .... even though he was the one who should have been celebrated and treated out since he was the winner.

he cheesily denies that offer by saying, "i'm only a winner because i have you, baby boy, c'mon let me treat you," and then he playfully bites the lobe of your ear to distract you from teh mass amounts of money he is going to spend on you.

that day, you walk out of the mall with a whole bunch of bags (gucci, burberry, dior, prada, etc.etc.) that he's easily holding in his large hands. people notice that there is a new chain around your neck with a cute "g" and "s" charm hanging from it, refracting every bit of light that gets caught in its surface with how blinding the diamonds are. he has a matching one as well, with your initials, which he proudly shows the cameras of the papparazzi as they soon swarm you guys. then he's flipping them off again.

-

you and basketball player ! satoru are a power couple that the media and fans love. any homophobic comment that reaches satoru's ears are called out and dealt with by his sharp tongue and scary, blue eyes glaring at whoever was dishing out those comments. he's a complete softy for you too and he is NOT one to shy away from that, loves showing off how happy he is with you and ONLY you.

also last bit before i go: he definitely has two photos of you in his wallet. one of them is a cute polaroid you guys took at his family's house for xmas the other is..............promiscuious.

-> next, drabble <3

[xo2dee]

NOW LOADING. .

JJK MASTERLIST

OPIA/GOJO NSFW WEEK 2023 - DAY ONE: EXHIBITIONISM

PAIRING: Gojo Satoru x (Fem)Reader WARNINGS: MDNI/18+ ONLY. Exhibitionism, public sex, voyeurism, spit as lube, vaginal sex, rough sex, dirty talk, panty kink, creampie WORD COUNT: 5,906 SUMMARY: On a night out in the city, you're not exactly opposed to risk-taking. Or: Gojo and you fuck in an alleyway.

A/N: yes i know it says 2023 but most of this was posted back then on ao3 and i didnt feel like posting over here back then. but i changed my mind seeing as these qualify as oneshots as supposed to a linear story with multiple chapters, so i'll be posting all seven of these within the next week or so. pls enjoy!

Beneath the fluorescent lights and the shaking of the train, you felt it. Someone was staring at you, and with the dark lenses of his sunglasses over his eyes, you couldn’t really tell exactly where he was looking, or if it even was him looking at you. And being watched wasn’t necessarily new to you; or, really, when you were watched more than enough times to count by the man who had the ‘All-Seeing Eyes’, you got used to that particular feeling whether it was unwanted or not.

You didn’t mind it per se, but the lingering sensation was enough to make your eyebrow twitch and to run your tongue across your teeth in annoyance. It was always a nagging feeling – an itching crawling along your skin and tickling your nape whenever you knew someone was staring at you, and at first thought you figured it was him. He liked to look at you and liked to stare at you beneath either the shades of his sunglasses, or underneath the dark fabric of his blindfold, leading you to wonder at times if he was really looking at you, or if your senses were playing tricks on you.

Yet when it came to Gojo Satoru, anything was possible and he could’ve been looking everywhere at once.

(And while he liked to look at you in a way, which meant he didn’t necessarily like when someone else looked at you the same way.)

It was a rare night and you didn’t necessarily like taking subway trains, but when you wanted a more mundane night out with your boyfriend you’d take any offer you could. Ignoring the offhand comments about being able to take you anywhere without any waiting time, you wrangled Satoru into sightseeing the city with you, your arm hooked with his and kicking each other in the back of the legs for fun whenever you felt like teasing one another. He’d nagged a few times, effectively shutting up as he dragged you towards a sweets shop and got a total of six orders of dango (eating at least four and a half himself and leaving the rest for you), and when you wanted to move to a different part of Tokyo without randomly teleporting and remaining inconspicuous, you dragged him to wait on the next train to Shinjuku.

Which, in retrospect, probably wasn’t the best for his patience and easing any boredom, but when it was only you, him, and a couple of business men on their way home from work or just random tourists out and about, you figured it wasn’t that bad. Or so, you thought it wasn’t, until you began to feel that nagging feeling and peeked over at him from your phone to wonder if he was gazing at you, only to find Satoru facing completely forward with his lips set into a fine line and glasses covering any semblance that you could see of his eyes.

You leant forward into his space after pocketing your phone into your jacket, leg thrown casually over his own as his fingers curled into the fabric of your skirt to pull it down and pressed yourself against his arm. The nagging sense that someone was looking at you prickled your nape once more when you moved, ignoring it in favor of jabbing your fingers into Satoru’s side, “What’re you looking at?”

The corner of his lip twitched upwards for a moment, his head tilting to the side and it was then you felt his stare, practically seeing the blue through the lenses as he peered into your face. “Nothing important,” he answered, fingers twisting in the fabric of your skirt as he kept tugging it down – you supposed to keep any modesty for you.

You frowned at his tone, eyes glancing off to the side to the window behind you for a moment until you saw it – well, him. In the reflection you could stare freely, your spine tingling whenever you met the eyes of an onlooker you hadn’t noticed before openly ogling at you through the window behind your head. He wasn’t so open about it, sneaking peeks here and there, but it was clear as day at the time his eyes would gloss over whenever he got the sight of you and Satoru. Not so perverse… yet still enough to make you want to roll your eyes at the behavior; as well see the annoyance in Satoru’s posture.

Ah, that was his reason for the stiff legs and death grip on your skirt… It wasn’t unknown for Satoru to get jealous at times; nothing too ridiculous, just an arm thrown over your shoulders or his hand slipping down to grasp at your hip, but it was natural for him wanting to keep what was his, his. And nothing wrong with it, you felt the same, but you knew at times it was something silly to even feel a little green-eyed over.

Your frown lifted into a small smile, looking back to him and leaning close enough to him that your eyelashes kissed across his jawline and your lips were unreadable to the onlooker, “Don’t tell me: you’re mad he’s trying to look up my skirt?”

Satoru’s jaw locked once your words whispered across his skin, a fine eyebrow raising from underneath his glasses as you had to wonder if he was looking at you that time or still pinning the man with his eyes. His thumb smoothed down on your skirt in intervals; stimulating himself and jittering your nerves before he mumbled, “And you’re so nonchalant about this because…”

Lips pursing you casted another glance to the onlooker, realizing he wasn’t necessarily looking at you as much as he was looking at the both of you. Yeah, you figured it out, and if you weren’t someone who didn’t like to openly flaunt around with Satoru, or someone who didn’t necessarily like it when someone stared at you for so long, you probably would’ve been annoyed and grossed out. However, knowing he liked to stare at Satoru…

“Because maybe he’s eyeballing us both?”

His face twisted; nothing in disgust, but more genuine surprise and interest for your analysis. “For what?” his glasses slipped down, both iridescent eyes pinning you to your spot as you only shrugged with a coy grin and looked away as the subway came to a stop at your destination. A short ride; nevertheless, an interesting one that gave you a new coy idea whenever you felt the man’s gaze linger on you as you stood up before it widened in wonder whenever he took the sheer height of Satoru as he stood up as well.

Interesting.

You kept small smile on your face as Satoru’s fingers found your own, a “C’mon”, mumbled to you as he led you out of the underground subway station and into the night air of Shinjuku bustling with nightlife. Neither you or he said anything else about the matter, your steps falling in sync as you only began to sightsee (for yourself mainly) and speak randomly about mundane things. It weighed heavy in your mind however, flashbacks from intimate times before with Satoru making themselves known in your memories as the ordinary night you had wanted to have begun to twist into a want that began to throb beneath your naval and heat your cheeks.

It wasn’t until your palm started sweating in his own that the atmosphere changed, pulling his fingers and palm away from your own to instead thrown an arm over your shoulders, pulling you close and teasing you for the sweat before Satoru casted a glance from over his shoulder nonchalantly. A groan revibrated from his chest against your ear, wanting to look behind you to see whatever provoked such a reaction from him yet stopping short whenever Satoru’s pace picked up and his shoulder was too high up for you to look over.

“Of course…” he pulled you further into his side, your cheek pressing further into his chest, “Y’know, you attract the strangest men.”

“Yourself included?” you teased, tickling his side with your fingers before you gave another look back, lips pursing when you recognized the silhouette of the tourist on subway. In a normal situation you would’ve been creeped out; a guy following you around at night? Yeah, though you weren’t necessarily the most normal person around and had Satoru by your side, and you recognized the dilated pupils he had in the train of the same way yours had dilated whenever you thought back to the many sexual escapades you and Satoru had. And the way you’d never been caught… “What’s the matter, Satoru?” you asked breathily, a coil turning behind your naval whenever you caught his eye from under his lenses, “You can easily remedy this.”

“Well yeah, but I’m more wondering why you don’t seem the slightest bit disturbed,” he noted, fingers dancing across your shoulder as you caught the scent of the mint gum rolling around his teeth.

You shrugged, “I think you’re missing a better picture.”

“Elaborate.”

A light laugh escaped you as you both stopped outside of a narrowing alleyway, his hand falling off your shoulder as you instead reached for it with teasing fingers and a bite to your lip, “Remember that time Nanami almost caught us? You had to cover my mouth so he wouldn’t hear us –” Satoru opened his mouth to intercept, his head turning a fraction to the onlooker just feet behind you both, yet you continued with a squeeze of your hand, “ – but… I distinctly remember you got off from me getting off at the idea that someone might hear or see us.”

Under the orange glow of the streetlights, you could see the blush form; cheeks tinging pink as he recounted the memory with perfect clarity, a lick to his lips moments after and a hard swallow that made his Adam’s apple visibly bob. “Yeah… I remember that,” his hand rose, pulling his glasses off and flicking them closed before pocketing them with a certain heaviness in his eyes, “I remember it very well.”

Bingo.

“Or, y’know, when we were on top of the Tokyo Tower…”

“That’s still my favorite.”

“Or with your Infinity.”

“Hilarious.”

You rolled your eyes at his deadpan and rolled your neck around dramatically, “C’monnnn,” you pulled his hand, but he remained in his same spot, your eyes glinting around the shine of his hair,“Harmless fun? Besides…” you tip-toed closer to him, craning your neck to look up at him as your lips brushed his jawline, “don’t you like it when people know I’m yours?”

Satoru squinted at you, yet a slow expansion of his pupils spoke otherwise for his words. “You’re a… freak.”

You grinned and kissed his cheek, “You love it.”

“I do – God, I do.”

Satoru perked up afterwards, standing up straighter and fully twisting your fingers together as he pivoted sharply on his heel and began to pull you within the dark space of the alleyway. You smothered a giggle when the giddiness and love for the thrill began to welt up inside of you, squeezing his hand only once as you let yourself be dragged into the alley until you both got far enough to be hidden, yet not so completely covered by any eyes that strained hard enough.

Satoru stopped with heavy steps, hand slipping from yours with the slightest bit of apprehension along his expression whenever he turned back to you and towered over your figure, “You’re sure about this?”

A smile graced your face in spite of your roaring want, glad of his reassurance still coming into play. “I should be asking you…”

“Oh…” he looked around your face, hand coming up to stroke his chin as a self-satisfied smirk played across his lips, “Yeah, totally. We’ve done it before soooo…”

“Then we shouldn’t waste time.”

He moved as heartbeat sped up, fingers slipped under your chin, caressing your jaw softly as you smiled up at him before placing your own finger to his lips when he began to lean in for a kiss. You knew if you were going to do it so openly and so publicly, it’d have to be quick. His eyes glinted for a moment, a heaviness to them before meeting with your own as you shook your head, “And there’s no time for that…”

You drugged your words out with a simmering tone, only low enough his ears and only spoken in a way you knew he was familiar with.

Satoru was on you before you could blink, the fading streetlight bulb popping from an impulse of his cursed energy fluctuating out, and you could only realize milliseconds later that he’d been wanting you more than you had been wanting him during the night. His lips molded around your own, mouth crushing onto yours as your back hit the brick wall behind you and he locked your legs around his waist to keep you in his hold. Your clit throbbed trapped underneath your panties, something he was about to remedy for only but a brief moment as his slowly hardening cock pushed against your own want in a slow roll of his hips.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders the same time it happened, a moan trapped between teeth and tongue escaping you as he pushed you higher up against the wall, the brick scratching along your back as the distant sound of shoe scraping against concrete made you both freeze. Your eyes opened only momentarily, enough for Satoru to smack off of your lips with a pout settling on his own as his fingers dug until the bare flesh of your thighs and he called out nonchalantly to the Peeping Tom with a roll of his shoulders.

“Feel free to watch if ya want! But that’s all you’re getting!”

You gaped at his shamelessness, pressing your face into his shoulder with a laugh as his hands trailed up to squeeze your hips. Nearly wanting to kick your feet at the ridiculousness of it all, you could only feel your heart twist with adoration at the overall joy and humor you could share with Satoru; you supposed only you two would be able to snicker in each other’s faces at the idea of someone watching you two have sex… However, Satoru’s own shaking shoulders made you sober up a bit, turning your head to press a kiss to his jawline as you could only treasure carefree attitude he had through all the silliness you two would get into together.

The feeling of your lips on his jaw made him sigh, rolling his neck around until he got away from your face before diving into your own neck. A squeal bubbled out of you, nails digging into his biceps as he kissed your throat first with his teeth coming after that in a playful bite along where he knew a horde of veins sat. The feeling made you squeeze his waist with your thighs, a low throb making itself known once more as you wiggled around to press his dick anywhere near you could it get close to your clit. His own fingers clasped fully around your hips, hard enough to nearly crack his knuckles as his teeth released your flesh and his tongue smoothed over the bite to placate you.

A groan pushed past your lips, wiggling to try and push yourself higher and stow the heat in your stomach, “God, Satoru –”

“Hmm?” He was cheeky in the way he pressed his cheek into your own, flared hot and red with his inhales and exhales steadily growing in intervals and louder in volume.

You didn’t waste any time, cupping his face in your hands to pull his mouth back into your for a hard kiss as he released your hips, tapping his hands on your thighs in a sign for you to unwrap them from his waist. You obliged but only with confusion, jumping down from him as your messy kiss broke with a ‘smack!’, and trailing your hands along his shoulders for an explanation before he smirked and spun your body around expertly (like he’d done that particular move one too many times. Which he had).

Satoru hands found your hips again, walking you forward until you had to brace your hands against the brick wall and his front was pressed securely against your backside, the warmth he radiated generating goosebumps across your body as his treacherous hands moved up and squeezed your tits through your shirt. He relished in your sigh, chin falling onto your shoulder with a sigh as your back arched and your ass pressed into his crotch, “You’re the one who said we have no time.”

He rocked forward and you keened, nails scratching into the brick as his cock pressed up against your pussy and jolted your nerves, peeking at him behind your shoulder with a sly grin, “Yeah, I did, but I’m also waiting on you to get on with it.”

Satoru snorted, humorous and impatient at the same time as he abruptly pulled off of you, leaving you positioned against the wall before he bent down and reached underneath your skirt to snap your panties waistline against your skin. You rolled your eyes and knocked your foot into his calf, a snicker from him following as he leaned to press a chaste kiss to the back of your thigh with a soft bite, “The itsy-bitsy spider crawled up the water spout…”

Oh my God.

Leave it to Gojo Satoru to sing, ‘The Itsy-Bitsy Spider’ as his fingers crawled up your legs (like spiders, you guessed) to pull your panties down. You bit the inside of your cheek as they grew hotter, smothering a laugh as the absurdity you two were engaging in.

Satoru’s long fingers slipped into your panties, tugging them down as you arched your back and stood up on your tip-toes so that he could pull them down your legs and off of your feet. A breeze wisped around you without the comfort of your panties, pressing your thighs together to keep the warmth and wetness safe as you glanced behind you to watch him stuff your damp panties into his back pocket. You wanted to snark at him for it, however all words became lost when he upon you once more, a foot sliding in-between your own to kick your feet apart and slot his covered crotch against your bare pussy as his hand slid up your thigh to disappear underneath your skirt.

He seized your body with a light touch to your clit, whistling lowly into your ear at the clear evidence of your growing arousal with your knees buckling a fraction as his other hand moved back to palm at your breast and the two fingers dipped into your warmth began to slowly rotated atop your throbbing clit. The fire in your body grew, the fluids between your legs egging him on enough to move at a faster pace as you could only rock hips in time and push back against his cock to excite him further. The knot behind your naval began to spin, heat licking up your veins to the nerves on the top of your head at the expert way he could handle your body, a bite to your cheek a moment after your pussy drooled more and a long finger prodded at your opening.

Hips rocking forward to avoid him fingering you, you bent forward at the waist more to protrude your ass further and let your point get across. “No time,” you reminded him in a gasp, eyes glancing off towards the side and your cunt clenching in on nothing when you could see the shadow of the voyeur at the opening of the alleyway. Satoru only hummed, the noise vibrating in his chest through your back as he pulled away from you for moment, the sounds of his belt unlooping and unbuckling followed by the whine of his zipper.

“Then I guess we’re doing this the old fashion way.” There was humor in his voice, perhaps at your over eagerness to get him inside of you, and you had to whine when he was taking too long and you were missing his fingers. Satoru laughed softly, “Relax, baby,” a croon in your ear as a hand slithered up your spine, squeezing your nape softly before it curled over your shoulder with his palm out and awaiting, “Spit.”

Ah, he more than likely didn’t have enough precum or jerked himself off enough the lather himself up, a wry smirk creasing your face as you realized it really was like the ‘old fashion way’ whenever you two would have fast and rough quickies in places you shouldn’t have been. Regardless you ran your tongue across your teeth, rolling your tongue afterwards to produce enough saliva to spit into his awaiting palm. You did so, rolling your eyes at his quip of being overeager and patiently waiting for him to lather his cock up, the burning in your body beginning to ache in your spine and limbs for the rapid zealous want.

And, thankfully, he was back before you could miss him too much, the heat of cock sliding along your slit making your knees buckles and pushed onto him as he laughed and gripped himself to find your opening.

He was lethargic pushing his cock into you, a far cry from the oversensitive way his body coiled up and his manhandling against you, yet the slow press of himself inside of you had your thighs quivering, your cunt squeezing on his cock as he blew air through the cracks of his teeth. Biting your lip deemed well to keep your noises to the minimum, however once fully inside he pulled back out for a moment with one hand intertwining with the fingers of your own still placed on the wall, and within the next he wasted no time to harshly push himself back inside with the full expanse of his cock taking home into your cunt.

The loud moan you gave at the rough thrust was securely caught by his other hand, another one you blubbered into his palm captured as well as Satoru started a slow rock and push of his hips, his cock sliding deliciously in and out of your pussy in a way that made your cunt throb and squeeze to keep him inside. He grunted and widened his stance, your body bending further as it pushed him deeper and you drooled onto his hand with a muffled whine of his name.

His lips found your ear, husky yet with the tinge of that flippant attitude he liked to have, “As much as I wanna hear it, don’t wanna risk a peanut gallery –“ another grunt as he sped up just a fraction, the slide becoming easier due to your cunt producing more fluids and your spit lubed onto him, and you had to push back into him to get him to move faster. “One’s enough –”

You’d nearly forgotten about the onlooker, too engrossed with the man behind you and too obsessed with the coil of heat stoking itself in your body each time Satoru swung into you. The thought made you squeeze him a little too tight on him, a broken groan behind you sounding out as he stopped for a moment and removed his hand from your mouth and the other he folded his fingers over yours and pressed his knuckles into the brick. You heard a small crack from the brick, choosing to ignore it as you pushed your hips back into him, becoming frantic in your pace as the obscene sounds of your pussy reached your ears along with the new breathy moans since your mouth was no longer covered. Satoru fared no better, his breathing getting heavier and that nonchalant attitude slowly beginning to leave him as his hand followed the curve of your waist and his fingers found your clit once more.

Back bowing at the overstimulation, you moved, twisting yourself to the side to push one shoulder into the brick as your elbow bent and Satoru kept your hand held into his and one of your legs lifted upwards as you pressed it against the front of his body. Consequently, your cunt sucked him in deeper, the front of his pants soaked by then and you could only squeeze and sigh whenever he groaned particularly loud in a call of your name at the new position and began to move once more. It wasn’t too quickly at first, yet not gently either, crashing into you as he pressed onto your clit in rapid circles as well and your head could only begin to spin and your body could only follow his doing.

You could see his eyes at the new angle too, the iridescent blue seeming to glow in the dark as they traveled down the length of your body, settling on watching his cock disappear and reappear from your pussy before they moved back to watch your fucked out face. White teeth made an appearance when you met eyes once more as they bit into his bottom lip, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a hard swallow and his head tilting back, “You’re so pretty – fuck.”

The compliment made your cheeks warm; nevertheless you were getting your brains fucked out by your boyfriend, but him just complimenting you that mid-stroke and sounding all breathy while meaning it would always just have a different effect on you. The muscles in your body were beginning to coil, a carnal part of you begging for release as he thrusts sped up more, the slap of your skin against the small sliver of his own filling the alleyway along with the way your moans and cries morphed into heeding gasped that measure alongside the rhythm of his thrusting. A part of you longed to draw the sex out, yet with the way he was putting more and more pressure on your throbbing clit and the way his cock kissed the uttermost part of inside of you, you knew you wouldn’t last long.

And neither was he apparently.

A brick just below your hand cracked again, a fluctuation of Satoru’s cursed energy coaxing your body as he fucked into your harder, “Where –“ his head shook, eyebrows knotting together and eyelashes fluttering while he struggled to keep his composure, “where do you want me?”

“Please – inside. I want – you to cum – inside me.” Your words were jostled by each hard thrust, your shoulder beginning to ache as it was pushed further into the wall from the roughness yet the pain being completely drowned out by the pleasure. You could only focus on him and the ever-approaching orgasm, mentally tracing the spiral inside of you as you pushed up on the leg you still had on the ground to stand on your tip-toes to allow a deeper arch in your back and a deeper carve of his cock into you.

Satoru laughed, throaty and condescending before breaking off with a loud grunt, “You’re insane –“ he emphasized his point by another rough push of his hips, his back bending down so that he could be closer to your face, “Wantin’ me to cum inside while someone’s watching. You must love letting people see me slut you out, huh?” Satoru motioned with his head to your visitor, your eyes trailing of him for once to only widen when you could see the faint movement of them jerking off, biting your lip as the idea made your nipples harden and pussy clench.

“Mm, yes – love letting people – know – I’m yours.”

A snort and Satoru released the hold he had on your hand, gripping the thigh lying along his body in a bruising grip as he slightly pinched your clit, “Yeah, that’s right –“ his back bowed more, bent at the waist so that his whisper would caress your cheek before hiking your leg up higher so that your pussy pitifully taking his cock was on full display for anyone to see, “ – you’re mine.”

The combination of his words and the pinch on your clit had your body folding in on itself, muscles bunching and teeth gnashing together when your hips started to roll to meet him, a sad excuse of your orgasm sneaking up on you to fend it off. It didn’t help that you could still see the voyeur from the corner of your eye still aggressively jerking himself off, the notion of being watched getting fucked by Satoru sending your body into a myriad of different emotions and sensations that turned your resolve into mush. You had to close your eyes to fend it off, however Satoru’s finger on your clit combined with the way he was plowing into your pussy and practical molding you into the brick wall proved to be all too much.

Timing his thrusts with your gasps – in and out, in and out, in and out, in and out, in and out, inandouinandoutOhGoddddddd –

You couldn’t take it.

Eyes reopening, you sent him a pitiful look, one that made him moan obscenely since he knew what it meant all too well. You could feel it unwind, a devasting fall when you already felt the undermine of your undoing, “God – I’m…. I’mmmmm cumming –“

Too soon your words were took from you, his fingers pinching your clit one last time as the coil behind your naval snapped, your pussy shuddering and squeezing what it could of his cock as your orgasm busted free about you. The lone streetlight that had been the only one illuminating you both abruptly busted in time with your body growing taunt as the nerves inside lit a fire throughout you. From your frontal lobe down to the tips of your toes, you felt alive; bursting free a kaleidoscope of colors tinging your vision and emotions alike with a pretty, cotton pink, a color you could only associate with the man still drilling a hole into your cunt. Foggy and boneless, you left your douse in it for a moments, completely forgetting for a moment that Satoru still had yet to cum and had his cock still fervently pressed within you.

The squelching sounds of your conjoining brought you out of your haze first, along with the tired breaths pulling free of your chest before you took notice of his own ragged breathing and broken groans. His fingers had fallen off your clit thankfully, taken to rest on the wall above your head as you could feel the familiar hum of energy radiating around you. He wouldn’t last long.

You clenched around him one last time.

Satoru cursed, fingers digging into the meat of your thigh enough that his nails began to nearly break skin as his thrusts became sloppy and desperate. “Shit – fuck – don’t squeeze –“ a high-pitched whine followed after when you squeezed about him once more, a wry grin on your face when you watched the familiar expression cross his face that made your stomach twist and another tight squeeze to his dick, “Fuck, I’m cumming –”

Eyelashes fluttering over your eyes, you watched him closely. From the discoloration of scarlet dotting his cheeks to his lips swollen from where he either captured between his teeth or the rough kissing between you both and all the way the on how his expression conformed into pure relief as his tongue whined out  garble of your name. It was enough to send a spasm into your cunt, a shudder encasing Satoru’s body as he cried out and wrenched himself fully against you, a gasp falling out of you at the way his cock pushed against that soft inside of you. His warm cum spilled into you deeply, thick in ropes that painted your inside completely white as that familiar warmth flooded your insides. You released the hold you had on your shirt to press down on your lower stomach with a soft hum when you practically felt your pussy shift and mold to allow more space for his cock and cum.

“Mmm.”

Satoru made a noise in the back of his throat when he felt you pressed down, sagging against your body as his rasping calls of desperation and excitation began to dissipate and you both remained still for a few moments in bliss before even thinking about gathering yourselves. You could nearly hear his heartbeat mixing with your own, his body withdrawing from your own as he slowly pulled his leaking cock out of you while you hissed at the hyper-sensitivity and he groaned at the sight of his cum beginning to seep of your gaping hole once he was fully out. “Oh, baby.”

Holding back a snort you began to straighten yourself out as he steadied you, pulling your skirt back down over your hips and smoothing down any wrinkles in your shirt while discreetly watching him tuck his dick back into his pants. He ran a hand through his hair after that, your back meeting the wall behind you as you didn’t necessarily trust your legs to not wobble if you started to walk, and Satoru joined you with a breathy laugh. Rubbing your thighs together you grimaced, holding your hand to him and curling your fingers in a ‘Gimme’ motion.

“Panties.”

His expression morphed into confusion as he let the word hang in the between you both for a few moments. “What?”

“Give me my panties,” you emphasized your point by shaking your hand, palm out, “I’m not walking home commando and with your cum leaking out.” It was bad enough you were already feeling it… along with the stickiness slathered on the inside of your thighs.

He had the nerve to pout, patting his back pocket where you panties were still hanging out for the world to see, “Ugh, that’s so hot though…” It was silent as you stared at each other, one eyebrow of yours raising in challenge as you didn’t really feel like bringing out, ‘Satoru, so help me God’ voice. He rolled his eyes and knocked his head against the wall, fishing out your wet panties and wadding them up in a ball before slapping them into your awaiting palm. “Fineeeee.”

“Crybaby.” You ignored his whine.

You wasted no time pulling them back on, shuddering at the coolness mixing with your heated pussy still raw and sensitive as he saddled up next to you and threw an arm around your once you were settled. You took a long inhale to douse yourself in his cologne, the scent refreshing from the stench of sex while you two began to leave the area you defiled, and Satoru’s humored tone breaking you out of reverie once you reached the opening of the alleyway, “Looks like your little Peeping Tom ran off. Hope he enjoyed the show.”

Almost forgetting about him entirely you looked up and down for a moment, a smirk lining your lips as you noticed substance you nearly scuffed your shoe on, the same type you could feel nearly seeping through your underwear, “He did.”

A, ‘Ha!’ left him once you pointed at the area, drawing you closer as he bent to whisper hotly in your ear,“We should do this again next time.”

“Yeah, next time we should fuck on the beach in Okinawa.”

“…Don’t tempt me.”

[heartfullofleeches]

What if darling orders from a different restaurant and brie coincidentally arrives right when the actual delivery person does? I feel like he'd be jealous af

Yan "Pizza Boy" + Reader

-

Who is that-

Arriving at your street, tires screech to a hault as your home rolls into view. The driver takes a second look. Then a third - knuckles white as fingers clench around the steering wheel.

A car he's never seen before sits in the little parking spot outside your house. His parking spot. Some old, beat up hatchback painted the ugliest shade of blue he'd ever seen - tape covering its left tail light and bumper held on by zip ties. By now, the delivery boy has made enough visits to your home to recognize cars of your friends and loved ones. Who is this? The flickering sign atop the rusting hunk of metal lifted some of the weight from his shoulders - only to crush him with a new fear as the other driver casual steps out of his vehicle, carrying bag strapped to his shoulder.

"Oh, hell no-"

Brie curses under his breath - pulling into your neighbor's driveway with one hand on the wheel as he reaches into the passenger seat with the other. He quickly gathers his things, kicking the driver's side door open as he goes to exit - hissing in frustration as his seat belt digs into the flesh of his neck. He unbuckles himself, shutting the door behind him with the heel of his sneaker as he races across your neighbor's yard. He slows down to carefully step over their hedges right as the other delivery person reaches your porch. Brie curses again-

"Oh my God! There's someone hiding in the back of that blue car with the dirty windows!"

The delivery person runs off back to their car. With little time to celebrate his victory, Brie marches up to your front door and rings the doorbell. You looked surprised - yet oddly happy to see him. His heart flutters.

"You?"

Brie beans from ear to ear "Yup! It's me! Got another pizza for you here. Same as the last."

"Thank you, but I already ordered from someplace else. Couldn't find anywhere nearby with alfredo sauce pizza so I had to settle for the usual."

You were looking for him?.... The place he works for that is. Brie shoves the box against your chest, biting down the scream ready to escape. "Don't worry, this one's on the house too. We're still experimenting with the recipe so it isn't available on our menu yet. I'm sure my boss will be happy to hear you enjoyed it."

"Well... Since it's free I guess it wouldn't hurt to take it off your hands. Won't have to order out for a week at this rate. Do you have a number I can reach you at?"

Multiple issues could arise from giving you his personal number - Brie was too excited to dwell on future problems when he had your attention now.

"Sure! Do you have a pen and paper?"

In the time it takes you to retrieve said items the other delivery person returns. He looks at Brie, a flicker of recognition in his eyes as he inspects his face.

"Hey... Aren't you-"

"Their boyfriend attacked a guy once."

The delivery driver looks taken aback. "What did you say?"

"I had a friend who worked at this one other pizza place. He had a black eye the last time we met. Said the person with the exact address had a scary looking boyfriend who thought he was flirting with them. He moved last we and I think I know why."

Brie's smile widen as the wobble in the other man's voice. "Hey, man... It's not cool to joke like that. If you're trying to scare me off you'll have to try harder than that."

"If that's what you want-"

Brie drops the conversation there. No point in wasting any more of his precious time - not with you standing there, pen and a small notepad in hand.

"Thank you~" Brie scribbles down his number, tearing off a page of paper beneath the one he wrote on as he hands the notepad back to you - pen still in his possession. With other matters to attend to, asking for it back was the last thing on your mind as you then turn to properly greet the other driver. Brie turns on his heels and makes his way down your driveway, checking over his shoulder as he drops the pen off the sidewalk - watching it roll by the rear bumper of the car.

"Whoops- Looks l dropped my pen."

Brie crotches down to grab the pen, eyes scanning the dented license plate as his fingers graze the pen. He picks it up, jotting down the license plate on the scrap of paper as he stands and walks off in the direction of his car.

One light broken is bad enough. He wonders how that other driver's boss would feel with all four smashed.

[yumeboshi]

Mmmm, may I order myself a bloody pomegranate sundae? Looks quite delectable! ♥️

❝ THANK YOU FOR YOUR ORDER、 @yandere-romanticaa .ᐟ ⟡ HERE IS YOUR RECEIPT FROM CAFÉ YUME ⟡

𐙚BLOODY POMEGRANATE SUNDAE：disturbingly red but it smells good at least．．

𐙚 dish desc。．yandere hsr men’s reactions to getting caught in the middle of one of their messy crimes.

．。𝜗𝜚 labels。general yandere themes, mentions of gore and violence, manipulation, filthy, light minors dni warning

．。𝜗𝜚 ingredients。aven, sunday

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ “so what if i’m crazy? the best people are”

。no literally 。this man has no shame at all. he’d give you the widest smirk in the world, staring at you straight in the eyes with those intimidating eyes of his while carelessly wiping off some blood from his expensive attire. 。“oops, you caught me.” 。it would be rather unsettling about how unfazed he is. when you call him a murderer and all sort of insults you can think of, he’d just laugh and tell you it’s all part of the ‘game’ you two were in. 。he’d love the horrified look on your face, though, so do be prepared for now intentional bloody corpses anywhere you go. 。aventurine himself knows what he’s doing is wrong. unlike a certain someone but he will submerge the voice of reason inside him if it means that it’s needed for his ‘end goal’ — which is securing you all to himself. he knows you’re breaking him apart, ruining his mind with your thoughts that gnaw on his morals like parasites, but at some point he had just decided to succumb to it. after all, he does not have anything left to yearn for if you’re gone. 。it is almost like he clings to you for his own sanity, ironically enough. you are the cause of him breaking down and yet you are also the one who lets him know why he’s still alive, so for him, killing someone is equal to reminding himself about what he’s living for. 。this gambler won’t know when to stop— he relishes in the thrill of it, he even likes getting caught by you. his sick mind thinks it’s hilarious.

“YOU DON’T have to stare at me that much,” aventurine chuckles.

how could you not, with the obvious residue of blood splattered all over him, he doesn’t even bother wiping it off. the dim candlelights flicker to illuminate your mortified face, because the seat that was occupied moments ago before you excused yourself to get something, was now empty. your dinner date with your friend was cancelled by force.

the man in front of you carelessly slides the scarlet chair out to sit in the formerly occupied place, the chair making an ugly creak as he does, crossing his legs- leaning back leisurely as he smiles at you through despicable eyes.

“i know my attire is ravishing tonight, but please, feel free to order anything else.” he gestures to the spread menu. you can’t even touch it with the substance that contaminated it, no, contaminated the whole table you were sitting in— the angelic white rose jar decoration is broken and red is bleeding into their fragile petals, the ravishing steak is inedible, broken utensils are scattered everywhere on the luxurious tiles of the restaurant, and it’s eerily quiet except for the soft romantic jazz that echoes creepily across the silence.

when you try to leave- to get away from this insane monster that is him, he stops you and pouts, telling you he’s waited for so long, surely they could have an impromptu date. you were his fiancé, it was natural for him to want to treat you to dinners alone- he’d say with a chuckle.

“dates out of the blue are always fun, don’t you think?” he would say with a smile as he eats the steak without caring much about the taste- he has his pretty princess all to him, that’s what matters more. that should be the only thing that matters.

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ justifies himself

。this paranoid and obsessive man will have the most difficulty suppressing his desire to make a complete massacre 。he just can’t stand seeing someone even close to you. but as the head of the oak family, he’s also the most reputable person so he cannot risk that to succumb to his needs. 。he still will though, just not obviously. his murders are calculated and too well-woven to be suspicious of from the public eye, he knows how to pin crimes on someone else and it’s certainly not his first time doing this. 。when you raise eyebrows- he’d smile and laugh about how you’d think such lowly of him. he was your sweetheart, so you didn’t think much of it either. 。“please, love. now im quite offended.” 。he was definitely pondering over how you caught up though, so he’s going to put in extra effort to cover his tracks. 。but there’s times he loses his composure and doesn’t bother to cover up his crimes. he snaps, letting go of the thin string of sanity that held him together- and when you see that, he’d suddenly go all sweet, cooing to you that this was all for your own good. 。“they were hurting you, angel. hurting you. you’ll never be heartbroken again, not in my arms.” 。sunday is a master manipulator. human emotions are something he has dealt with tons of times. he will know what to say and what to do to pull on your cogs as if he’s performing clockwork. 。when even his reasoning and silver tongue doesn’t work on you- he would hate to do it, he doesn’t want to artificially make his darling, but for the greater good, he would, brainwash you. like mentioned, he’s a firm believer of the end justifies the means.

STANDING upon you is a fallen angel with his attire drenched with blood that isn’t his. you can tell with the way his pristine gloves are stained to oblivion.

you see his business smile crack slightly when he sees you standing in the doorway, horrified. “apologies,” sunday says with a smooth voice, but his eyes waver a little, but soon harden- as if there’s a completely rational reason why he has done whatever he did to your poor friend that was waiting for you in your room.

“what…?”

his cold eyes suddenly melt at your mortified look- he sighs with condescension, as if somehow you’re the one in the wrong. “it’s my sincere apologies i intruded your room without warning, but I must say, the situation was rather… suspicious, hm?” he slowly walks towards you- every step pronounced and clicking against the tiles as if death is knocking on your door.

“another man sitting in the bed we share? I don’t think that’s appropriate, don’t you think?” he’s close enough to push you onto the wall- blocking your escape route. “isn’t he the same person who forgot to send you presents on your birthday?”

sunday doesn’t actually care about the presents part- he was the one who discarded his gift before you could get it, anyway. he’s using it as an excuse to reprimand you.

“y-yes, but that’s not an excuse to—“

“ah ah, I don’t think there’s much of an excuse to make here. you’re dodging the point. tell me, am i not enough for you?” his sickly sweet voice isn’t paired with the sweetest gesture- in fact, you can feel his stained hands press your neck ever so slightly.

you have no other choice but to say you’re sorry- begging him that you really weren’t cheating on him; and it was just an unfortunate coincidence your friend was on the bed. every time you pleaded, he’d sigh and shake his head as if he’s giving in to your desperate begging to not leave you here alone, but inside, his heart pounds with delight seeing you break down and lose your reason.

“oh, you pathetic little dove. always needing someone to protect her from evil.” his hands caress your head, leaning into you to envelop you in a tight embrace he doesn’t plan to let go of. “you keep trying to fly away, yet you know nothing about the world around you.”

your pleas echo louder as his fingers touch your lips, stinging your nose with the metallic smell on them, and he pulls you in for a kiss that makes you choke, his tongue intruding your mouth that spills out drops of saliva from the lack of breath.

“—so I’ll make you a lovely cage, sweetheart.” he whispers against your lips, smiling through his devilishly handsome gaze before devouring them once more.

[taelophone]

Masterpiece ݁₊ ⊹ ݁ || Ex?Luigi Mangione x Ghoster!Reader TWs: Reader is an actual supervillain, fire/animal symbolism, smut w plot, penetration, blood mention, fingering, finger sucking, spanking, hate-fucking, toxic relationships, dark-ish elements, baby trapping if you squint, arguing, again reader is a supervillain, cocky Luigi, crying, overstim, brat-taming elements, etc. A/N: This is like. Seriously depraved work😭

In your defense, the universe always tends towards disorder.

Anyone who passed grade school level chemistry could recite this law to you like it was imprinted on the back of their hand. So it was only human nature.

It had been about 5 months since you last spoke to your nerd. That’s around one-hundred and fifty-two days without his coco brown curls against your chest while he told you about his little machinery and computer nonsense while you tuned his words out as you scrolled on your phone.

You let him follow you around like a lost puppy, trailing behind you at events as you held his hand with an iron-clad bite. You do love him, really. He’s adorable, he’s smart, he’s hot.

But you just couldn’t stay tied to anyone for too long.

So as your texts slowly shifted in the blue-to-grey ratio, Luigi found himself holed up more frequently in his room, click-click-clacking away on his computer as sadness and confusion engulfed him.

Did he do something wrong? Was he too clingy? What could he possibly have done to deter you so far away from him for so long?

Time and days slipped through the cracks of his hands like scalding water; burning him with scars only evident to those that got too close to his fingers. He didn’t want to elaborate, he just wanted his baby back.

And in typical nerd fashion, what did he do? Take it out on his craft.

Hunched over the silver laptop, deep black bags under his eyes while he scanned the typed binary over and over. It still wasn’t working. The dumb robot couldn’t pick up on certain commands and froze whenever he tried to raise an arm for it to copy.

He huffed in genuine frustration, trying his hardest not to shatter the computer with his own two hands. It didn’t help that he was in constant disarray, his usually organized and neat surroundings lacking their usual order.

He was always an empathetic and caring man, putting others' needs and wants before his. He felt for those around him in a way that others normally wouldn’t. So yeah, he cried a little bit. What he thought was a deep and stable connection to someone he found so tantalizingly perfect turned out to be trivial to you!

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as his vision fogged. So much stress for one person wasn’t anywhere near healthy, but something had to give. That’s what he told himself, anyway.

He’d feel better when he finished his code. He’d be able to breathe when he breathed life into something else that wasn't a relationship. All he wanted to do was prove to himself that he wasn’t a total failure, and could still do something right.

Tidal waves crashed against him, the bitter salt streaming down his face as he sucked in a deep, shaky breath in an almost pathetic fashion. This is why she wanted nothing to do with me, he thought. He was an unpredictable, emotional, unorganized mess. 

There’s no way in hell someone would want to be tied to this–

Ding!

What the hell?

His brows pinched together, the wet anguish slowly coming to a halt as he picked up his phone from the table.

“hey…U awake ?”

He stared at the text, dazed and confused as his meltdown began to subside, only for it to be replaced with a whirlwind of panic. Luigi had no idea what to say. He was upset that you dared to waltz back into his recents like nothing ever happened, but he was so. So. SO. SO SO SO SO SO down to have you back.

He paused, thinking it over in his head, outweighing the pros and cons of responding or even opening the message. He didn’t wanna cry again, but he also didn’t wanna fuck up the opportunity to hold you and bask in your sweet, candy-like scent again.

You burned his tongue and thoughts like war, your everlasting enchantments invading his head every time he dared to glance at the first initial of your name. With a hand squeezed over his mouth, his pointer finger gently nudging the bottom of his nose, he picked up the phone as his large thumbs began to type in his password.

He didn’t want to answer immediately, out of fear that his quick and compliant response would scare you away like it might have done last time. Instead, he paced around his room a couple of times. He hopped, skipped, and almost flipped as he worked up the balls to open the message.

And then, he typed.

He typed for what felt like years, centuries even. But only managed to type a couple of sentences before deleting a good two-thirds of the remainder.

“ Hey! Listen, I understand you’re probably going through something and reached out bc you’ve processed some things that led to you ghosting me, but for the sake of my health, I can’t keep you around anymore. I’ve been piecing together my mental stability for a while now, and I think I should keep working on myself. ”

Ouch.

“ Oh, ok sorry I’ll go . “

“ Actually, fuck it I'm healed. Come over ”

Read 12:57 AM.

My Dear💟 reacted with👍

Double ouch.

Luigi lacked the ability to stand up whenever necessary. You knew that. It was a very easy conclusion to come to when all he did was people-please. The way his eyes scanned certain faces for subconscious approval said it all.

You threw on your grey sweater, dark blue denim jeans, and a random pair of socks before sliding on your Uggs and slamming the front door behind you. You didn’t really expect Luigi to be so…compliant. You didn’t even say anything, he just…folded.

You figured he’d be upset, or put up at least a semblance of a fight, but no. He welcomed you back with almost puppy-like resolve.

Luigi sped around his room, quickly straightening up his home like his life depended on it, and in a way, it did. You were his entire life, and he didn’t want to scare you away again with his unorganized and messy bullshit. He did his best to cover up his deteriorating mind, dressing up his room in faux warmth that he knew you’d probably be able to spot as soon as you walked in.

Things were back in their respective places, the big light was off, little lamps and ambient lights were on, and his work could be pushed to the side for a minute longer.

With his room straightened, he stumbled into his bathroom to fix his curls. He got a good look in the mirror before realizing why beauty brands made concealer and letting out a frustrated groan. He wet his curls, gently bringing the coco spirals back to life with his hands before brushing his teeth like a madman.

He could feel lady doom lingering closer and closer the longer time had passed. Her footsteps of feminine fright would soon reach his front door, and he knew he’d have to pick up the pieces of the ruins later. But he was fine with that.

In fact, he wanted you to wreck the ruins again. Your presence, and absence, had been the biggest motivating force for him to do better, even if it meant he was at his worst. His tears would drip down onto his keyboard in the days to come, and he’d grow angrier with himself for allowing this to happen for a second time.

But he loved the disorder. He’s never pushed out more concepts and projects in his life. Your chaos completed part of his brain that lacked spontaneity. He could plug you into any part of his mind, and you’d quickly help him solve any formula or theorem. Sanity be damned, you were great for him in the worst way possible.

Pain was a fierce motivator, but he’d let himself be scorched and burned in your arms every day if it meant he could keep all the pieces of his mind working.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard the front door swing open, and for a second he swore he heard thunder crack and pop when you revealed yourself in the doorframe, your ringlet keychain spinning around on your pointer finger.

You waltzed in like you owned the place, gently pushing the door shut before making quick work of shuffling your shoes off by the door.

“Lui!” You called, setting your keys on the side table and making your way to Luigi’s room.

And there he was before you, in his tired, muscular, and disheveled glory. He looked like he had been crying. His eyes were slightly puffy, the tip of his nose was faintly red, and he clearly wasn’t focused on keeping up with his now stubbling beard.

“Hi, Lulu” you purred, standing up on your tiptoes to lace your arms around his neck, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder.

“Hey, love…” he sighed, immediately wrapping his arms around the small of your back and hoisting you up to carry you the rest of the way to his room. “How’ve you been?”

“Ugh, terrible” you huffed, rolling your eyes as you took in the familiar, warmly-lit room. “I’ve been so tired, and my nail lady canceled on me.”

Luigi chuckled, more-or-so at the irony of your problems compared to his. You seemed completely unaffected by ghosting him. Ouch, number three.

“But I missed you…” you mused, running your fingertip along the arch of his nose teasingly.

“Did you?” He asked, raising a very unamused eyebrow as he gently grabbed your wrist, plopping himself down on the edge of his bed with you in his lap.

“Mhm…Sooo much. Sorry I flaked on you, I was going through something” You smiled, mashing your lips against his to prevent him from asking any more questions. You chuckled onto his lips gripping the back of his neck in a way you know you definitely shouldn’t be.

He winced, instinctively reaching for your hand before you smacked it away. A nonverbal way of saying “Leave it alone.”

He groaned in a mix of pain and slight frustration, opening his eyes a fraction to shoot you an unamused glare. “Whats…going on with you,” he asked between hot and fervent kisses.

“Not sure…” You panted, full-on yanking the back of his hair just to leave purple and blue marks all across his jugular. You were a little mean, which you acknowledged, so you let go of his fistful of hair before peppering gentle kisses to his face. “Sorry.”

Luigi sighed, holding you as close as possible while you pecked the tip of his nose. 

“What is it with you and my nose, baby? You do this every time you come see me…” He chuckled, a cocky grin forming on his face.

“You have no idea how gorgeous it is…like, none at all” You stated, smiling at him before leaning forward to push him on his back and just lay on top of him. “It’s perfect, really.”

“Weirdo…” He teased.

“Watch your mouth, Luigi” You quipped, giggling quietly at his sass before rolling off of him and getting comfortable between his sheets.

“You came all the way to my house…to sleep in my bed?” He asked, propping himself up as he stared at you with genuine confusion.

“What?” You asked, leaning up from his fluffy blankets to stare at him blankly. “You don’t want me sleeping here? Want me to go do something else?”

“No, no no you’re fine, you’re fine” he stated, shaking his head instantly as he pressed a firm hand to your chest to keep you from getting up. “Nap, sleep, die, anything you do is fine. Wait don’t die…”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes in amusement as you pulled him closer to you by his wrist. 

“You’re being so shy, come here…” You mused, positioning him next to you as you wrapped your arms around his neck again. “Tell me about your day. What’d you do today, handsome?”

He practically swooned as soon as you asked him about his day. He giggled quietly, fanboying like some sort of geek interacting with his fictional crush for the first time.

“My day was…it was fine,” He lied, ignoring the fact that he had been crying just 30 minutes earlier. “I fixed some of my code today, and… that’s it.”

You nodded, gently carding your hand through his hair while he rested the side of his head against your chest.

You hummed, nodding at his short little daily summary. He wasn’t really the type to do absolutely nothing all day, so hearing him essentially say he did nothing all day was kind of a shock.

“What? That’s it?” You teased, giving him a look of feigned shock. “I would have at least expected you to go on a jog or something…” 

“Well I did go on jogs, but my motivation significantly decreased since you ghosted me” He spat, shooting you a sassy and serious glare.

“I said I was sorry, Lu. I fell on dark times and shit, my bad!” You huffed, rolling your eyes at his sudden spite. Brat.

“Dark times but you’re going on bar-crawls and getting your nails done every two weeks…you could have at least blocked me” He huffed.

Luigi turned his face to look up at you, and for the first time in over 5 months, you came face-to-face with his vulnerability. He was hurt, and he did have some right to be, but you did what you told yourself was helping you feel better. So what if that involved having fun? You’re a grown woman.

“Oh, because turning to bars and fucking up my sleep schedule and academics is sooooo fun. Thanks, Luigi” You drawled, watching as his dark and heavy brows cinched together with repulsion.

“I don’t wanna hear that. You know damn well that’s not what was happening–”

“You weren’t there!” You shouted, immediately taking your hands off of him and throwing them up in defense.

“And who’s fault is that?” He exclaimed, giving you the most irritated and know-it-all glare ever. “I reached out every day for two months, only to get one-word responses, brushed off, any bullshit you could find in the hat! YOU are the reason I wasn’t there!”

You were nothing short of over it. You groaned, throwing your head back in bitter anger as his unfortunately correct point hit you. There wasn’t shit you could say about that.

“I wasn’t doing good, Luigi!” You growled, slowly standing up from his bed. “I just kept making stupid decisions, and I felt like you weren’t going to love me anymore!”

“When have I EVER made you feel like I was going to stop loving you!?” He stated, his arms outstretched in a half-shrug. He was growing more and more impatient with your excuses. All he really wanted to hear from you was that you were sorry.

You let out a long, drawn-out groan as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You stared at him, his arms crossed and his face slightly scrunched as he stared back at you.

“I’m not gonna keep doing this with you,” You huffed, shaking your head while your pointer and middle finger rubbed your temples.

“Oh, so you don't wanna talk now that you don't have a point. Of course. Totally” He nodded, irritants clear on his face as he rolled his eyes.

“I just fucking hate feeling like I’m being antagonized, Luigi!” You huffed, throwing your hands in the air in defense. “You’re antagonizing me when I said I was going through a rough patch, do you know how evil that is!?”

He went completely silent. He just stared down at you with a mix of disbelief and frustrated disdain. He bent down a bit, placing his hands on his knees as he got as close as he wanted to.

The anger in his eyes rivaled that of the goddess Lyssa, the flames of onyx searing permanent wounds into your own. It was hot. Literally.

You straightened your posture a bit for the first time in a while, daring him to say something so you could meet him with a remark just as scorching.

The floor below you was beginning to cover with soot and ash, the embers of venomous attraction breaking off and cracking on the floor.

You couldn’t help but smirk at his rabid anger; it was involuntary. Your dulled and dainty fangs flashed in front of him, a crooked and twisted smile overtaking your face as you fought the urge to laugh.

The smoke fizzled off of him, filling the poorly ventilated room rapidly as he scowled down at you.

“You’re terrible. You like arguing, and that’s scary—“ he began, each syllable aiming to draw a new coat of ruby-red lacerations across your heart. But it all stopped when he felt a pair of lips mash against his own.

He sighed internally, wasting no time in wrapping his arms around your waist as the gears of the cycle fell back into place. There wasn’t any escaping at this point. He was used to the crying, the sleepless nights, and all of the fresh coats of pain you could pull from him.

You giggled drunkenly, high on the poison that emitted from the pair of you. You slipped your tongue past his lips, invading as much personal space as you could in such a short amount of time.

You went to speak, pulling away from him momentarily in hopes of landing another jab at him, only to yelp at a sharp sting on the back of your behind.

“Shut up,” he commanded, sparing you not so much as a second glance as he brought his hand up to the back of your neck. “You talk too much.”

His sharp and pointed canines pulled at the bottom of your lip, the fear of broken skin lingering in the back of your mind as the sizzling pain caused you to shudder.

Your lips reunited in a searing, iron-enriched kiss as you snaked your hands around his hair, tugging on it like it was your only chance at a semblance of vengeance. 

Luigi groaned, practically growling at you before he scooped you off the ground by the back of your thighs to throw you back down on his messy and crinkled sheets.

“I fuckin’ HATE you!” You spat, narrowing your eyes at him with a downright feral and harrowing smile.

He scoffed, smushing your cheeks together between his thumb and the remainder of his fingers until the skeleton of your teeth pushed against him. 

“Didn’t I say shut up? I swear I said stop talking…” He scolded, landing another sharp smack to the side of your thigh that had you flinching away from his free hand.

A quiet whine emitted from you as you made no attempts to wriggle away from him as he left hickey after hickey along the exposed expanse of your neck and shoulders.

He loomed over top of you, evidence of his growing lust straining against the fabric of his grey sweatpants. He took one look at you, tilting his head to the side a little as if he were trying to solve another one of his stupid computer problems.

Picking you apart with his eyes, he was. Your feral, lust-blown eyes, messy and slightly frizzy hair, the way your chest heaved up and down in heavy pants. Yeah, it’s over.

He hooked his hand under your sweater, glancing at you briefly for confirmation before pulling it over your head in a matter of seconds.

“Lied to my face for a whole 10 minutes…dark times my ass, you‘ve got some nerve” he rasped, his eyes raking over the absolute art of you in nothing but jean shorts and a pretty little bra.

“Stop calling me a fucking liar, bitch” you spat, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I’m calling you a fucking liar,” he stated, tugging down your shorts with little care of if it hurt you or not. The fabric swept down your thighs with a burning resistance, the little zipper on the front popping immediately.

His strong hands ripped the cotton fabric of your panties, frayed and torn fabric resting on the bed before another sharp slap landed on the side of your thigh again. There was no filter to block you from his frustration this time, a loud cry fleeing from your lips as you flinched away from the sensation.

“Cried too fuckin’ much for you to look me in my face and say your day was terrible cuz your nails were late…cry me a river” he huffed, pressing his thumb to your clit.

You cried in ecstasy and slight shock. Normally Luigi was so very gentle, carrying everything in his hands with practiced cherish. Tech was fragile, and with as many years he had spent with it, he had learned to move and grasp with the strength of a newborn deer.

But all you could sense when his fingers began to maneuver around your folds, spreading your essence around was heated malice.

Right now, he hated your guts. And what do you do to something you hate?

Destroy it, of course.

You moaned as quietly as you could as his fingers bullied their way into your glistening cunt. It’s hard to focus on being mad at someone when their pretty fingers are curling so deliciously against that spongy spot inside of you that reduces you to a moaning and panting mess.

“Yeah…can‘t really talk when I’m fucking you good, hm?” He patronized, literally looking down at you as his free hand came to grasp the sides of your throat.

You grasped his wrist, squeezing at the prominent veins as you stared up at him through half-lidded eyes. You smiled, your whine turning into involuntary giggles.

“Fuck…you..” you spat in between oxygen-induced delirium, your cheeks feeling warm as the sticky, sloppy noises filled the otherwise quiet room.

“You will soon,” he mumbled, taking his hand off your throat to press it over your mouth while he got to work on leaving more hickeys across your chest. Deep burgundy and purple were sure to liter your entire upper body in the morning.

He continued his brutal and rapid pace as his middle and ring finger slid in and out of you with no resistance. The sounds that he managed to coerce from you were sinful; pants of his name, whines and gasps of “please” and “keep going.”

“Actually I think I wanna hear you…” He hummed, removing his hand from your mouth as soon as he began to feel you clench down on his fingers.

You twisted and writhed under him, not wanting to give the satisfaction of pulling an orgasm from you so quickly. 

“Aww…it’s ok, you can give up,” he cooed, smiling down at you as your muscles tensed and flexed.

You froze, the rubber band that had been coiling and twisting snapping with the force of heavy thunder. It was a painfully conscious effort not to scream as Luigi’s skillful fingers caressed and coaxed your sensitive clit into crying over him.

And she wept, spilling the secrets you would never she mimicked the heavy tears Luigi had dropped nights before. Pulsing and squeezing as he withdrew his fingers, popping them in his own mouth to lick them clean.

“I love you,” he truthed, gazing down at you to take in your blissed-out and teary expression.

The baby hairs stuck to your forehead, the artificial twinkle in your eyes, and the little part in your mouth as you panted to catch your breath.

“I…I ha-hate you—!” You fibbed, watching the way he arched a brow and grabbed your ankle.

“Oh so we’re still lying,” he said, hoisting your ankle over his shoulder before pushing down his sweatpants. “Cute socks,” he added before pressing a feather-light kiss on the lateral side of your ankle.

“Lying isn’t good for the soul…We’re gonna fix that,” he said, freeing his heavy and lengthy dick from his prisoning boxers.

You chuckled, not being able to form a coherent thought as venom and euphoria swirled in your mind. He tapped his fat, grapefruit-pink tip on your pearly little clit, chuckling quietly at the way you jolted from the sensation.

“Tell me about…your shitty 5 months…” he groaned, a whine highlighting the end of his words as he slowly pushed into you, spearing you open as his right hand came to rest next to your head.

Your hands came up to his back, clawing at the tanned skin as you moaned directly in his ear.

“You suck, Luigi…” you mewled, eyes rolling to the back of their sockets. That stupid joke he consistently cracked about his PhD was no joke, and he was giving you all the proof you needed.

“You’re a nightmare,” you began, frantic butterflies zooming through your stomach as he began to slowly piston in and out of you. “So fffucking clingy…! Wish I never fuckin’ met you.”

“You’re no better” he grunted, swiftly sliding the hand that was next to your head under your neck, forcing your head upwards so you could look him in the eyes. 

“Manipulative…conniving…perfect…hot fuckin’ mess” He babbled, a ghost of a smirk forming on his face as he felt you place your other ankle over his shoulder.

He moved his hand from the back of your neck to your knee, keeping it secure in place as he began to rapidly increase in pace. His hips rocked against yours, low grunts and pathetic whines falling from his mouth as he stared down at you with a mix of desire and exasperation.

“Keep…fuckin’ talking,” he panted, using his free hand to press against the bulge he consistently created in your womb. “Tell me how I suck.”

At this point, you were full-on moaning and crying. He invaded every single one of your senses like some sort of sex parasite, blocking the receptors in your brain that allowed you to think properly.

He was everywhere; In front of you, inside of you, all in your guts as your poor achy cunt fell victim to his bullying.

“Pretentious…Asshole! I said what I said,” you said in between gasps of breath that came increasingly rare as Luigi ravaged you whole.

He chuckled, bringing both of his hands to the back of your thighs and pushing them up against your shoulders just so he could get in your face. 

“You say that but you’re squeezing me like a fuckin’ hug…” he growled, knitting his brows together in ecstasy.

He was furious; fucking all of his anger into you, watching as your body jumped with the force of his thrusts. He could see why people lost their minds to women, running to grab a pencil and paper to capture the essence of someone doing something as mundane as changing their clothes.

Your hands clawing into his back, sharp enough to draw predatory reminders of red-hot passion every time he went to the gym. Your face scrunched up in euphoria as you fought to keep eye contact, the way he held you down like a ferocious beast as he threatened to put an end to your primitive barbarity.

He couldn’t capture this in code, absolutely not. He envied the artist who could recreate this scene from memory later on in the small frame of a sketchbook or the tall stature of a canvas. Art is beautiful in all its subjective beauty, and you were his perfect moving masterpiece.

He groaned and gigged into your neck as he leaned down, sucking on the sensitive flesh while he did his best to knock some sense, or maybe even a baby, into you. When he felt your velvety and warm walls begin to flutter and twitch around him, only then did he come back up to ask.

“You miss me?”

“Fuck yes, oh my god so much…” you babbled, your waterline brimming with tears as you struggled to even conceptualize the man above you. Your stomach jolted and fluttered with want, your ears rang with need, your hands scratched with fever, and your mind fogged with lust.

The coil deep within you snapped, prompting a string of swears to fly from your lips as you painted Luigi with your pearly-white release, flashes of what you could only believe to be heaven dancing behind your eyelids as your mind dished out one last command to regain a semblance of control.

Your ankles wrapped around Luigi’s waist, trapping him against you as his moans turned into high and breathy wines.

He painted your insides a new shade of angelic white, stiffing against you as he cried out your name in blissful ecstasy. 

He collapsed on top of you, huffing and puffing as he registered the little move you pulled.

“And you said you didn’t like me…”

[adkawariatka]

Hi, it turns out that fanfiction is really addictive and I still cant move past any recomendations without checking it out. So I have another idea for a dcxdp crossover….

Danny is living on Gotham streets for 4 months. Its perfect hiding place becouse of its aura. Many tradic deaths and general danger on every corner creats ideal barier for all sorts of ghost hunting equipment. Danny wos relucant about Gotham at first but after few failed attempts at finding hiding space, he decided that to hell with that and he will at least try. And thank the ancients that he did because its perfect. No one pays him any attention there is too much homless out there. Even if most kids are staying at Crime Alley seeking Red hood protection. thats one of the reasons why he hestitated at coming to ghotam: vigilinates. They are dangerous, becouse of partnership with goverment…. Who according to Anti-Ecto laws considers him non-sentient and in need of contamination or more often elimination. So yes Danny wos relucant but it turned out fine….. for now. No ghost or human gosthunter found him yet so he counts it as a success. Any other city, forest, mountains or everything else he tried didn’t last longer that a month. He might not be proud of his surviving technics like stealing, laying and dumpster diving but its not like he has a choice…. He is too much alive to be accepted in to infinite relams for good which is dumb if you ask Danny becouse he is at the same time its Crown Prince. But maybe Danny is just too naive or something. He does not care. On the other hand he is too dead to be accepted by humans so he kind of floats in between never to fit properly anywhere. He is surviving, and for about a year he wos completly alone until that one day…

Danny wos sitting on the bench in his favourite park close to lovely Café that had really beatifull cupcakes with blue whipped cream. He liked to pretend that he is a customer there and just waits for his order….that wos never placed…. Well who is he kidding he is just creepy homless kid that stares at people eating sweets from across the street. Pretty pathetic IF you ask Danny but he prefers not to dwell on his mental health thank you very much. So he is staring when a group of kids takes one of the outside tables. And like a serious creep listens in to their conversation. Well its not like he can swich off his super hearing.

The boys are talking about some homework from school. Danny assumes they are classmates becouse of their maching clothes. When to their table comes another one with darker skin and black hairs. The occupants share meanigfull glances and let the newcommer sit. Danny knows that look. It does not indicates anything good. Its the expression that Dash would make whenever he wos about to do something awful to him. Then the guy with blonde hair says

- Damian why don’ t you eat with us?

And then procedes to push the plate with cookies closer to the boy

- I thought I informed you Winser that I do not eat anything made of milk or other animals products. I am vegan.

Answered Damian with monotone voice. He sat incredybly straight and wos so stiff that Danny thought that must hurt.

- But its so good. beside I offered it. wouldnt it be polite of you to at least try?

Wisner insisted. Sly grin on his lips.

- Leave him be Mike he probably has problems with digesting such hard avaible products.

Said boy to the left with massive collection of pimples on his Chin. Danny named him spotty.

- I do not have any „digestive problems” as you put it Jenkin. I simply choose not to.

- of course pardon our lack of knowledge. Its just we worry that your… original diet wos a little lacking… or maybe you ate a little too much chocholate when you where younger. Thats all

And all of the group snickers to spotty „jokes”. Danny Thinks its primitive and disgusting. Racizm is low blow specially after Damians next words:

- I do not understand

And they laught even more. Damian just sits there confused and oblivious to insults vowen in to conversation. And Danny listens and decides that he must tell that boy the truth. He cant turn blind eye to that. He may no longer be a hero but that? He can help with that. Soon bullies get bored of throwing hidden insults at Damian and go away. Damian sits at their table alone staring at the crumbs of cookies. He looks lonely. Danny standard and walks over to him. But before he reaches the table his occupant whirles to face him. His eyes are very green. Not like ectoplasm but close. They are pretty expresive. Danny can see frustration and confusion in them.

-hi there!

Geats cheerfully.

- I don’t have any cash on me right now

Its the first thing Damian says to him. Rude Danny thinks even if he does looks like a beggar with his thorn jeans and dirty jumper, but he has a mission. And he does the one thing that helps him in stressfull, akward or life treathening situations: he turns it into a joke

- Shame but I will make an exeption for you and give you my services for free

- I am not interested

Damian seems irritated now. Danny procedes to ignore him and sits at the table.

- Well as an expert in friendship I can tell you that those guys weren’t your friends. Better keep away from them

- Thats none of your business. Go away

- well maybe not but you should know what they were saying to you….

And then Danny proceded to inform Damian about the hidden insults and racizem comments. Damian tried to say something and even walk away but Danny wos presistent. When he finaly finished Damian exploded

- Leave me you insolent lowborn go find yourself another imbecyle to milk for money! Or I will stab you!

- Wow that same fancy insults there. I havent Heard lowborn yet. Anyway have a good day!

And Danny proceded to turn on his heel and walk away. He left Damian dumbfoned staring at his back. if the boy decided to do something about this then good if not then Danny at least feels like he did everything he could in this situation.

-

Damian wos confused. That homless lowborn wos strange. He wos not familiar with Damian nor his family. But. Damian couldnt stop thinking about what he told him. About his classmates their words and hidden meanings. Damian wos not hier to Demons head and son of Batman without a reason. He had skills, keen mind and wos curious. So he checked, he spent almost all night reading different forums and sites about bulling and racizem. He tried not Think about how much he resembled Drake in the morning. What he found wos…. Not plesant. It turned out he missed a lot of signs of his position at school. It wos unbeconing of someone of his class. He wos glad to be aware of that problem but now he did not know what to do with it. Father and Grayson expected him to make „friends” and up until yesterday he thought he fullfiled their orders thru his classmates but now he realised it wos failure. He did not want father to Discover his mistake. So now he has different problem he does not know exacly what that „friendship” wos supposed to be. Internet wos not really helpfull, there were so many diversive definitions that he wos confused about what wos true. He wos not going to admit to father or Grayson his incompetence. He will find solution himself. He has one idea that just might work. The lowborn named himself expert in friendship. Damian just has to find him and ask. He seemed willing to sell his knowledge.

-

Danny wos a little confused and suprised to see angry boy from two days before him. In his defense Danny did not start this conversation. It wos Damian who came to his bench across the café and demanded his services. Which wos weird in itself even before he asked about the price. But he did remember that he made a joke about services so that checks.

- look I am not…

Started Danny but Damian cut him off.

- you introduced yourself as an expert in friendship so I require your services. I will pay generously.

God now Danny wos going to be arrested for child manipulation and thieft. No that can’t happen. He already is hunted for his halfa status that’s enough.

- Listen I don’t want any money. I joked that day. I saw a kid being bullied and stepped in. Further events does not concern me.

Danny tried to leave but the kid wos presistent.

- Well your knowledge proved usefull. I want more

-kid, Damian I don’t want to get in trouble by using you or something. I am pretty sure there is some paragraph for that. Ask Google, it’s better option. And without me involved

- you think I didn’t do it already?! I am not stupid, but the information there are contradicting itself and I can’t distinguish what is true and what is not!!!!

Danny looks at Damian. He is shaking a little, and his words are colored by desperation. Ancients this is trouble… but he wos in this situation before wosnt he? A boy who does not know basic social skills in foreign dimension…alone and lost. Fuck he can’t leave Damian hanging. He can feel his fear in the air. Damn ghost abilities.

- Fine what’s your problem?

-

Danny has been meeting with Damian for over 2 months now. the kid wos socially awkward but quick witted and genarlly nice company. Well Danny wos alone for so long that his judgement may be clouded by he does not dwell on that. It’s nice having someone around. And Damian talks to him. He missed that. First few meeting wos a little awkward but it got better. Danny tried to be helpful,?first they talked about the school interactions, who even wos a friend. But then they got deeper, it turned out that Damian knew about social interactions little to nothing. They talked about family how it works, what it should be like. It wos ironic considering Danny neglectful parents and dangerous home. But he knew how it should look like. Jazz make sure of that when she wos alive. Then Damian started to open up about his origin. Trainings, mother and weird hierarchy. Well Danny saw a lot wilder shit in the zone. A kid from assassin cult wosnt the most shocking but still fucked up. He thinks that Damian might be even winning his little competition: „who had more screwed childhood” He thinks that his calmness helped Damian to share. Ancients he feels like Jazz…. It is not that bad. Damian brings him snacks, becouse Danny refused any money. And Danny talks to him too. Tells him about the stars, laughs about stories of Sam and Tucker Damian will never know who is he talking about so there is no harm. First time from death of everyone loved he does not feel alone.

-

Damian didnt plan to get close to Danny. It wosnt the plan. But he wos such good listener. Danny wos systematic in his explanation of reactions and habits that are „normal” in society. He wosnt showing horror or acted surprised when he told him about discipline in league or it’s hierarchy. He didn’t even flinch when he conveyed stories of trying to establish his position in manor by attempting to murder Drake. He listened then pointed out how different manor and league functioned and then calmly suggested that he should talk to Timothy. Just like that no screaming or anger. Now he knows why father wos so frustrated with him. According to Danny family doesn’t have strict hierarchy or rules punishable by death. It wos strange to have everything finally explained. He understands so much more. He sees that Grayson tried to explain it to him before. But as much as he is fond of the man he wos unsuccessful in his attempts. But he still has one problem… father told him to make friends. It’s a mission that he is failing right now. And if he is being honest he is not talented in this department. Not that he will admit it to anyone… well apart from Danny. When he asked him what else he should do to accomplish this mission he got quiet and fidgeted for a while and then offered

- well if you want I can be your friend

Damian stopped his walk and stared at him. Did Danny filled all the requirements? He did helped Damian not expecting anything in return which friends are supposed to do according to Danny himself, his presence wos entertaining. They understood each other. Both suspicious of their surroundings and cautious in every situation. They know about each other a lot of useless information like favourite food (Danny loved burgers), colors, hobbies or general interests.

-yes that would be acceptable

Damian saw the happy glint in Danny’s eyes and the way he relaxed. They started to walk again as if it wosnt admission of most importance.

So I may post a little follow up about how Tim reacted to Damian apology? I will see. As you can see my writing isn’t the best sorry😅. So in here Danny’s family and friends from Amity are dead and he is 16-isch Damian is fresh from the league and is obviously confused.