#and the ending was MUCH nicer in that film then in this one

[jiminy-crickets]

an icing call with exactly 1 minute left and the score 1-0..... how original

[uvobreakmylegs]

Trap

inspired from that one scene from the film The House That Jack Built (tho reader gets a better outcome, all things considered)

Kishibe x female!reader

Warnings: noncon, smut, fingering, groping, kidnapping, captivity, sexual harassment, mentions of gore, mentions of death

Word Count: 13.9k

The bar that you worked at just so happened to be situated close to the main office of the devil hunters, and as a result, a fair amount of your clientele were those same people who worked in Public Safety, usually the ones that were just getting off work and were in desperate need of a drink after spending a work shift witnessing countless horrors.

Despite your job as a bartender not coming close in terms of what they went through, you saw a lot just from witnessing the state they were in when you served them: the exhaustion that had seeped into their bones after they would sit down and the far-off gazes as they relived whatever fresh hell they'd been through before downing the rest of their drinks before calling you for another. Sometimes there were even entrails that covered them which you needed to clean up; it was only possible to do so once you held a spare rag up to your mouth and nose while keeping the dustpan as far away from you as possible before you deposited the remains in the dumpster at the back, after which you would quickly scurry away, eager to escape the awful smell.

It'd be easy to be annoyed with them for things like that, but you kept yourself in line by reminding yourself that they were the ones killing the devils so people like you could live in relative safety. If the price for that was sometimes needing to clean up something gross, you could live with that.

And certainly the last thing the exhausted hunters needed was someone nagging at them about a mess.

You got used to the changing faces, of those who either left or those who had died in the line of duty. More often than not, they simply stopped coming in with no explanation, which was a good indication that they were dead, as the ones who would quit usually ended up telling you their life story: why they got into devil hunting, what had happened since that point and why they now wanted to leave. You would listen – they didn't really want much engagement from you, just for someone to hear them out. At the end of it, the hunter would usually slam down their glass and declare that they were going to quit before heading out the door and you never saw them again.

Though there were often times when they would softly put down their empty glass and decide that they needed to keep with it despite the hardship. The irony that followed was that sometimes those hunters who decided to keep going didn't come in after that.

Even though you could make a good guess as to what had likely happened, you preferred to tell yourself that they had changed their mind immediately after and decided to quit after all. Even if it was a lie you were telling yourself, it was nicer to imagine a happy outcome for them, a future that they could – and should – have had.

And the faces at the bar continued to change.

Except for one.

Kishibe.

During the entirety of your year and a half of working at the bar, the biggest constant was the man who called himself the strongest devil hunter and who always, always came in for a drink once his shift had finally ended.

He was an odd one, to say the least. In terms of looks, he stood out almost immediately from the other devils hunters in large part due to his blonde hair and the recognizable scar that ran from the corner of his mouth and across his left cheek. And in terms of what he was like as a person, from what you could see, his monotone way of speaking and his quiet demeanor was deemed to be unsettling to most who interacted with him. He was also constantly drinking, as on more than one occasion you saw him take a swig of that flask he always carried around right as he entered the bar and then again when he left. That, combined with how much he drank at what became his designated seat at the bar, left you thinking that the fact that his liver was still functioning at his age was nothing short of a miracle.

Speaking to him had been weird at first. You had assumed that he would be like the other hunters who came in on their own, the ones who were in a bad place and were trying to drown out the turbulent feelings inside of them by way of harsh liquor. Those ones didn't want to talk; they just wanted a drink and for you to leave them alone until they needed a refill. With your experience with other hunters and the general vibe that surrounded Kishibe, it seemed like the safest choice to keep your distance from him.

But despite your attempts at creating that space, Kishibe turned out to be eager for a chat whenever you were around.

Though the topics the two of you could discuss were limited, you slowly found yourself warming up to the veteran hunter the more you spoke with him. While it was hard to tell what Kishibe was feeling in general, the fact that he continued to seek out your company told you that, at the very least, he found you to be tolerable. Tolerable enough to ask you questions that were guaranteed to get him boring answers. You doubted that he cared much about what your day had been like before you arrived for your shift or what the results of your off-day shopping trips were; he must have just wanted to hear something about how the average person's normal day went, one that was free of hunting and killing.

Until he told you to stop or he didn't bother to ask anymore, you were happy to oblige.

At that moment, Kishibe was on his third drink, staring down at the dark liquid within the glass with the same blank expression that was always on his face. Just like the other devil hunters that were currently in the bar, he was finished for the day and was getting a few drinks before he'd head home. Though with Kishibe it definitely wouldn't be just a few, and it wouldn't end with whatever he got at the bar.

It was relatively quiet at the moment with the small bits of chatter throughout the room being contained to the tables where the other patrons sat, so there was no need to raise your voice when you spoke to him.

“Kill a lot of devils today?” you asked.

Kishibe glanced up at you before returning his gaze to the glass.

“No, nothing like that today,” he said.

“Oh? Then were you training new recruits again?”

“Some of that,” he answered plainly, “but today I was mostly dealing with paperwork.”

“Ah.”

While you weren't inclined to say paperwork was the worst thing to deal with considering that the man killed monsters for a living, you could easily see how trudging through documents and filling out papers could be an exceptionally mind numbing experience.

“I guess it's too bad that being the best devil hunter doesn't exempt you from the boring parts of the job,” you said.

He shrugged.

“It's something that inevitably comes with any sort of job,” Kishibe told you, raising the glass to his lips after.

You leaned your elbow on the surface of the bar as you asked “did the training with your students go well at least?”

“No,” he answered bluntly.

“Oh. Why not?”

Kishibe waited to reply as he took another swig of his drink before saying “they're motivated by money, which is the worst reason to join Public Safety. Not only that, but they're hopelessly weak as well, which makes training them even more of a waste of time.”

“But the point of training them is to make them stronger, right?” you asked.

“There's no point because they're not cut out for it.”

“Is that you saying that they're not crazy enough?”

“It is.”

“Ah.”

You'd heard him say that before. About how the only people who can make it as devil hunters are the crazy ones and anyone who was too sane was little more than cannon fodder. His words.

Whether or not what he was saying was correct wasn't something you could really judge, but considering how long he'd been at that job, it was possible that there just might be some truth to what he was saying, though you doubted anyone else at Public Safety would be willing to agree with his statement out loud.

“Well,” you began, “maybe they'll surprise you. Maybe they just need a bit more time.”

“Doubtful. You either are cut out for devil hunting or you aren't. And these ones aren't,” said Kishibe.

He took a cursory glance across the room before he added “they'd be more suitable for a job like this one.”

Then he looked back to you as he asked “you need any new workers?”

You shook your head.

“Unfortunately we're all good on staff, so I don't think we can take any of them,” you answered jokingly.

“I see.”

He brought the glass back up to his lips as he said “then I guess they'll be dead soon enough.”

Kishibe spoke those words in that same monotone voice, while part of you wanted to believe that he was just a fan of dark humor, you knew him well enough by now to know that he meant what he said. Whoever these students were, they must have been massively under-performing for his opinion of them to be so low.

“Have you tried talking to them about that?” you then asked.

“I have. They just see it as motivation to prove me wrong,” he said, “I'm not going to bother if all it does it encourage stupid behavior.”

“And you can't speak to anyone higher up about your concerns?”

“Very few apply to work at Public Safety in general, so they'll accept anyone without question.”

“They're that desperate for hunters?”

Kishibe nodded.

You smiled, taking the opportunity to joke as you said “maybe I should apply then, especially if they don't care much about someone's background. It'd probably pay better than what I get from this place.”

In response to that, Kishibe gave you a long, hard look, his glass held in midair as he stared at you. Though his expression remained neutral, you got the sense that he wasn't amused.

“…. I was joking,” you said, “I know that I'm not up for killing devils.”

Just like that, the slight bit of tension that had fallen on the two of you dissipated. and the air felt light once again.

“That's good,” he told you, bringing the glass to his lips before saying “you're smart in knowing your limits.”

“Unlike your students?”

“Yeah.”

With one last swig, he drained what was in the glass. The veteran devil hunter then set it down closer to you, silently asking you for a refill. You obliged, grabbing the nearby bottle you had opened for him earlier and filling up the glass until it reached the brim.

As you put the bottle back on the shelf and while he lifted the glass to his lips once again, you commented “it is nice that you're trying to look out for them.”

He stopped what he was doing, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Even though what you're saying doesn't seem all that kind, you must really be worried about them if you're that insistent that they need to quit,” you clarified, “I can only imagine how tired you are of seeing those white grave markers multiplying every time you go to that graveyard.”

The expression on his face remained blank after you said that, which, of course, made it hard to read just how he felt about your statement. But when he averted his gaze and took that sip of his newly poured drink, you took it to mean that you were correct.

Kishibe was pretty open, after all. If you were wrong, he would have said so. You felt certain of that.

“But maybe don't give up on them just yet,” you added, “like I said, they might surprise you.”

“….. I'll consider it.”

You smiled at that. That was as big of a win that you could get when it came to Kishibe, who no doubt had an issue of being stubborn due to age.

You really hoped those students would be able to prove him wrong.

There wasn't any more time to dwell on the matter, however, as a few more men walked in at that moment and took their seats at the bar, waiting to be served. The small moment that you had to chat with your most regular customer had come to a close, at least for now. Even if Kishibe spent a lot when he visited the bar, you would get in trouble if you ignored other customers in favor of speaking with him.

Even if this wasn't the greatest job in the world, you didn't want to face the terror of unemployment.

…. Was there such a thing as an unemployment devil? You'd need to ask Kishibe later, if you remembered.

It picked up quite a bit after that, with a more steady stream of patrons filling the seats and orders for drinks flowing in. As such, you were too busy to continue any form of conversation with Kishibe; the most words that were shared between the two of you were your affirmations when he called you over to refill his glass. And the hours would manage to pass in that way.

It was the same way it usually went. Another busy night where your feet would definitely be aching by the time you got back home.

It was near the end of your shift when Kishibe called you over to ask for his bill, settling up before he headed out for the night, presumably to wherever it was he called 'home'. The time he did so was as usual, as was the rather high bill he had racked up during the hours he'd spent chugging down drinks. He barely reacted to the high amount you had printed out for him, his face staying as blank as always as he fished out the amount needed from his wallet.

“Heading home?” you asked him.

“In a bit,” he said, “need to take care of something first.”

“I hope it's not work related; I doubt you'd be in any condition for late night devil murdering.”

“Even if it was, I'd be fine.”

You raised your eyebrows at that, but otherwise said nothing to disagree with him. If he noticed that reaction of yours, he chose not to comment on it as he handed you what he owed.

“You get off soon, don't you?” he then asked.

“Yeah, why?” you asked back absentmindedly as you placed the money in the register.

“Did you walk or drive here?”

“Oh, I usually walk,” you answered, “my place isn't too far away.”

“Will you be alright heading home by yourself at this hour?”

You smiled as you nodded at him, answering “I'll be fine. I've walked that route dozens of times and I've never had any issues. Plus, there's hardly anyone around this time of night.”

Kishibe nodded slowly once you answered, and while he spoke again just to say “that's good, then”, he said it more to himself than to you.

Shutting the register, you looked back to him as you asked “but what about you? Are you walking? I feel like it'd be dangerous if you got behind the wheel of a car right now.”

“I usually walk, too,” he told you, “both the business I need to take care of and my place are close enough.”

“I see. Well, I hope you have a good rest of your night.”

“Same to you.”

With nothing else to be said, Kishibe began to make his way out of the bar, remaining surprisingly steady as he walked to the door. You weren't sure if his tolerance for alcohol was something else, or if he was just really really good at pretending to be sober.

As he walked out, you noted the reactions of the other devil hunters as he passed them by. A majority of the ones who were still present stiffened when he did so, conversations turning quiet until he was out of earshot. Some were clearly nervous with him being so close. And then there were others who looked at him, trying to make eye contact so they could have some small bit of a good interaction in wishing him well for the night by way of a brief farewell.

Kishibe didn't pay attention to any of them, and when the door shut behind him, the visible tension in the nervous hunters lessened instantly, a collective sigh of relief hitting them.

Seeing that sort of reaction was another thing that had felt weird at first.

Despite the fact that he was constantly drinking, none of the other devil hunters regarded Kishibe as being an old drunken fool as you might have expected. Conversations would quiet down once he walked through the doors, anyone who had begun to get a little too rowdy cutting it out the moment they realized he was there. Kishibe wasn't interested in interacting with any of them, however. Once he had sat down, his only focus was on downing the many drinks he would order while he made conversation with you.

Those sorts of reactions were probably due to the respect that the other devil hunters felt for him. But it was respect mixed with something else:

Fear.

As you only ever saw Kishibe within the small space of the bar, you had no idea what he was truly like when he was out hunting devils. While you could make a guess of how strong he was based on his general aura and the way the others regarded him, you were limited to him when he was in that seat chugging down drinks like no tomorrow.

There was only time where you had gotten an inkling as to what he was capable of, and you hadn't even been around to witness it.

A while back and on a rare night where Kishibe was absent, a devil hunter who was relatively new to the job and had only recently started going to the bar with his colleagues made an impulsive decision when he was tipsy and had smacked you on the ass as you were walking by his table. The hit had been so hard and unexpected that you ended up dropping a tray full of drinks, and the glasses you'd been carrying shattered on the floor alongside the spilled liquor.

When you told the guy to get out he scoffed at you, and at that moment there wasn't much you could do other than clean up the mess while one of your coworkers got a refill for the orders that had spilled. By the time all of that was done, the group the guy had been with had left, one of the others paying for their bill while the guy snickered at you. That, along with the way your boss had berated you after for spilling the drinks despite your explanation, had caused that night to be a bad one for you. It was bad enough that it was still affecting you the next day, leaving you somber through your shift.

Kishibe noticed your mood almost immediately, and after some prying on his part, you told him what had happened. After getting the full story, his expression stayed level as it always did, and it made you sad as you thought that he didn't care about what had happened to you.

But then he asked you for a description of the man who had hit you as well as the ones who had accompanied him. That had surprised you, but you still gave him the information he wanted. Kishibe left soon after and much earlier in the night than he usually did.

Truthfully, you hadn't expected much to come from any of it. Maybe at most the bar owner would receive a letter of apology and some small bit of compensation for the spilled drinks as well as the group promising to be on better behavior. And even then, you weren't really interested in any of that. All you had really wanted was for someone to agree that the entire situation was unfair for you. Kishibe hadn't even done that, so your somber mood remained even after your shift ended.

You weren't expecting to see the guy who'd hit you so soon after that.

A few days later, shortly after you had come in, the devil hunter who had so brazenly smacked you entered the bar and gave you a formal apology, promising that he would never bother you again. The entire thing was very short, as he didn't bother making any excuses or tried to blame his actions on the alcohol. He simply apologized, left an envelope full of money as compensation for what you had dropped and then exited the bar.

Despite his apology to you, he couldn't look you in the face, and there was a distinct haunted look in his gaze as he stared at anything other than you, as though he was terrified of making direct eye contact with you.

Neither that man or the group he had been with ever entered the bar again, and when Kishibe came in that same evening, he didn't mention anything. You didn't ask about it, either. Whatever it was that he had done to get that result, you decided that you didn't want to know just in case the answer was something that would keep you up at night. Even if it wasn't something gruesome or morally questionable, it was simply easier to pretend that the incident hadn't happened.

At least those previously rowdy devil hunters were a bit more well-behaved from that point onward.

Late on the next Tuesday night, you found yourself alone as you were the last one clocking out, and therefore the one who needed to do the final clean up and shutting down of the bar. Luckily for you, Tuesdays were always slow and there was never much of a mess to take care of, so despite the late hour you were in good spirits as you exited the building, locking the door at the back while you thought of what you were going to do from here.

Your thoughts went to a new video game you had bought, having only had enough time to play a little bit before you had started your shift that day. While normally you may have felt the current time was too late for something like that, you had tomorrow off, so it didn't feel like a horrible idea to stay up late on your computer. It was very likely that all of your day off would be dedicated to playing the game.

But you were jumping too far ahead. You hadn't even gotten to tomorrow yet, you told yourself. Focus on getting home right now.

You walked along quiet streets as you did just that, at one point zipping your hoodie fully up as the chill of the night air was more uncomfortable than you were expecting. At least you wouldn't need to be out here long, though you still bemoaned the fact that you had forgotten to bring your gloves with you. The only solution you had was stuffing your hands into your pockets in an effort to keep them warm.

As was expected for how late it was, the street you were walking on was virtually abandoned. Any people that you did catch sight of could only be seen on adjacent streets that you passed, all of whom were minding their own business as they hastily made their way to wherever they needed to be. You were in the same camp as they were, and your pace increased as all you wanted in that moment was to get home where you'd be able to relax and unwind.

One walkway you passed by was particularly loud, and you caught sight of a group of businessmen who were chatting with one another. From what you could see, they had been out drinking. Socializing for work, more than likely.

So it wasn't a surprise when you rounded the corner of a turn you needed to make and you saw what at first appeared to be another businessman in the distance, moving about oddly as he walked towards you. With the distance between the two of you and the fact that you had only spared him a brief glance at first, you assumed that he was one with that group, making his way back for one reason or another.

But as the person was walking in your direction, you were compelled to look up at him as he came closer.

It wasn't a businessman at all.

And as the picture before you became clearer as the person continued walking towards you, your pace slowed before you came to a stop as recognition turned to confusion upon realizing just who it was on the path before you.

Your most loyal regular at the bar, Kishibe, was out on the sidewalk by himself. His height, hair and the scar on his face made it easy to identify him. That he was out at night wasn't much of a surprise, but what made you confused was the fact that he was stumbling, barely able to keep himself upright as he went forward. The only explanation for him to move in such a way was that he was drunk.

You were in disbelief. How was that even possible? You'd seen that man consume enough alcohol that it should've been fatal and it had never affected him, yet now he wasn't even able to walk in a straight line – just how fucking much did he have to drink to get that way?

When he nearly fell to the pavement was when you snapped out of your stupor.

Holy fuck

“Kishibe!”

You ran over to where he was leaning against an adjacent wall, lightly placing your hand on his back as a way to help steady him while you asked “are you alright?”

He turned his head to look at you, and after a moment, he shook his head.

“Let me lean on you,” he mumbled.

Taking hold of one of his arms, you did your best to keep him standing as he got his feet firmly beneath him.

“Do you need to go to the hospital? I can call an ambulance,” you said.

“Hospital? No,” he answered, “just get me back to my apartment.”

“I don't know where that is.”

By that point he had his arm over your shoulder, though he was swaying far more than you were comfortable with. Still shaken by how he had nearly fallen moments ago and worried that he could still end up tumbling onto the pavement, you ended up grabbing ahold of his waist in an attempt to keep him steady. Although if he was really going to fall, you had a bad feeling that he would just end up taking you down with him.

You really hoped that wouldn't happen; ending your night by having one or both of you getting a concussion was something you wanted to avoid.

Kishibe had reached a hand into his pocket and had pulled out his cellphone, his fingers seemingly not cooperating when he attempted to put in his passcode. After a few failed attempts at unlocking it, the screen turned brighter as he got in and within a few moments, he had typed in an address and held it in front you.

Your mind blanked before you took the phone from him with an “okay.”

Looking at the screen, you found that the location put in was only fifteen minutes away from where you currently stood. That wasn't too bad, but as you glanced over again to Kishibe and the state he was in, you worried that the short walk would be too much for him right now. If he lost his balance again you didn't think you had the strength to keep him up on your own, and if he passed out there was no way you'd be able to drag him to his apartment. Plus if he hurt himself you'd probably need to call an ambulance, which would be a whole other mess that would likely see you waiting in the hospital for hours.

“Are you sure you want to walk there? With how you're doing right now, I think it might be better if we call a ride for you,” you told him.

“No.”

“But the idea of you walking seems dangerous.”

“You really think anyone will let me into their car with how I am now?” he countered.

Ah. That was true. Kishibe was only still standing up right now because you were supporting him. And not only was he unsteady, but he also reeked of alcohol. Any driver would see him and refuse to let him in out of fear that they'd need to clean his vomit out of their car afterwards.

So the only option was to walk him back?

….. This sucks.

It was late, you'd been on your feet for hours, your fingers were still numb from the cold and you were tired. You'd been looking forward to your plans for when you got back and yet you needed to be the one to deal with this?

Despite saying none of that out loud, Kishibe seemed perceptive to what you were thinking as he said “I know it's inconvenient, but I'd appreciate it if you would help me out.”

“…..”

…. Well now you felt like an asshole.

Kishibe needed help and you were trying to get out of it, and now he was aware that you were trying to get out of it. The fact that he needed to push to get you to help him wasn't good at all. And all of it was just so you could go home and play a video game?

Why were you like this?

With that, you forced a smile onto your face as you said “of course. It's only a short walk, right?”

He nodded.

Readjusting the hold you had on him, you kept the smile on your face as you continued with “plus, maybe the walking will help you feel better.”

“Maybe.”

As the you began to walk him back, heading in the direction that was directly opposite of your apartment, you told yourself that this could always be worse. Kishibe wasn't being loud or aggressive, which you appreciated. While you were stuck with his arm around you and the pace at which you traveled was painfully slow, it would have been a lot worse if he'd insisted that you help him while also being belligerent about it.

At least he was a pretty chill drunk, even if the way he wobbled in your grip still made your stress levels rise every time it felt like he was about to lose his balance.

“If you need to stop to rest a little, we can do that. Just let me know, okay?”

He nodded after you told him that, but with the vacant stare in his eye, you wondered how much he had really heard.

Oh well.

As the two of you went by the path you had passed previously which was full of the businessmen, you found that it was empty now. Either they were getting more drinks somewhere else or they were going home. Though as you took one last glance in that general area, you caught sight of a tiny bit of movement at the base of the building, your eyebrows furrowing until you realized what you were looking at.

“Gross,” you commented.

“Hm?”

“Cockroach.”

Kishibe hummed in response.

“I'm surprised it's still alive in this weather,” you said, “I would've thought the cold would have gotten to it.”

“They're good at finding ways to survive.”

It was good that he was speaking to you. As you were still worried at the thought of him passing out while in the middle of the way home, you figured that continuing to speak would probably be best; whatever you could think of as long as he stayed lucid enough to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

With the sight of the bug from moments ago, at least there was an easy topic of conversation to have.

“Is there a cockroach devil?” you asked.

He closed his eyes as he nodded slowly.

“We don't have control of it, though,” he then told you.

“Good thing I'm not afraid of cockroaches, then. Wouldn't want to make your enemies stronger,” you said.

You paused as you readjusted the grip you had around his waist before you added “I am pretty scared of spiders, though. Is that an issue?”

“Public Safety has control of the spider devil. If anything, I would encourage you to be more afraid of spiders. That way she'll be stronger,” answered Kishibe.

“Okay,” you answered, laughing a little as you said “though maybe I don't want to be too afraid of them. It'd be a different kind of issue if she became too tough and decided to run off to do her own thing, right?”

He shook his head.

“That's impossible.”

“Why's that?”

“Because if she tried that, I'd hunt her down and take her out,” he said simply.

“You're sure you'd be successful with that?” you asked.

“Of course. I'm the strongest devil hunter there is,” Kishibe told you.

“That might be true,” you said, “but if a devil were to come for you as you are right now, I'm worried you wouldn't be able to do much.”

“I'd handle it.”

“…. You can't even walk on your own.”

“I'd handle it,” he insisted.

Despite his tone, you were skeptical. After all, you were the only one keeping him upright at that moment. Still, it was better to let it go. Just treat it like you're at work, you told yourself. Work that you wouldn't be getting paid for, but work nonetheless. Even though this wasn't the way you wanted your night to end, reminding yourself that you had the day off tomorrow helped in making you feel better about it.

Walking to Kishibe's apartment took about an extra eight minutes due to his slow pace, and there was only so much you could do to get him to move faster while still being polite about it. If only you had the strength to pick him up and carry him, it could've gone so much faster.

At the very least it would have made for a funny scene, at least from an outsider's perspective.

You did your best to stay positive, and you continued to ask him questions as a way to make sure he was still conscious as you escorted him back home. Though after your conversation about the spider devil, Kishibe only answered in grunts or hums, but at least he was still able to answer you. That was a good thing, at least. As long as he was conscious and able to continue walking, that was good.

When you caught sight of Kishibe's apartment building and noted the tall flights of stairs that decorated the sides, you frowned. And when you asked him which floor you needed to get him too, you groaned internally when he answered that his unit was on the fourth floor.

Of course you needed to get him up several flights of stairs.

You didn't want to think about just how long it took the two of you to get up the stairs, nor did you want to think about the times you needed to help him lift up his own feet so he could ascend those stairs with you. By the time you reached the door of his unit, you felt well and truly exhausted from the ordeal, and you wanted nothing more than for him to unlock the door and go inside so you could go back home.

Except Kishibe handed you the key to his door.

Of course it couldn't be that simple.

You couldn't even get him to go in on his own, as when you turned the handle and opened the door to his unit, his weight suddenly bore down on you, pushing you into the darkened apartment with him following after and only managing to regain his footing once he was inside. Even then he stumbled backwards after, his arm hitting the open door and forcing it back shut when he fell against it.

“Are you okay?!”

All you heard in response to your worried question was a grunt that seemed like he was trying to indicate 'yes', which lessened your panic a little, though it'd be nicer to be able to see him. In the pitch dark of the apartment, you reached for a nearby wall as you searched for a light switch. After several moments of blindly pressing your hand all over the surface of the wall, you found it, and you needed to shut your eyes once the overhead light turned on as you needed to adjust to the sudden brightness.

Once you were able to see, what greeted you was what appeared to be a sparsely decorated apartment that only seemed rather ominous as the rest of the lights within the space had also been left off. From what you were able to see in your current position, you caught sight of a darkened living room area, and beyond that, a sliding door that opened up to small balcony. There was a couch in the living room, right? You could just leave him there, couldn't you?

Please let me leave now, you silently begged.

“Could you get me to the bedroom?”

Despite how he mumbled his words, you heard him clearly. Looking back to where you'd left him, you were dismayed to find that he was still drunk out of his mind. He still had his back leaning against the surface of the door, and it seemed that was all that was keeping him upright. With the way he was blocking the way out, it meant you'd need to move him, and more than likely you'd need to escort him further, this time to his bedroom.

Once you saw him at your next shift at the bar, you'd need to ask what exactly he'd done to get himself that fucked up. That, or maybe he could just give you a really nice tip for all of the effort spent getting him home safe.

But you made yourself smile at him as you said “sure. Just hang on for a second, okay? I'm gonna turn on some lights so the two of us aren't stumbling around in the dark. I'll be right back.”

A pair of hazy looking dark eyes glanced in your direction after you spoke, and he nodded in understanding. With that, you placed both his phone and the keys to the apartment on a small table that sat in the small hallway before slipping off your shoes and making your way further into his unit. It took a few tries, more than a few moments of turning on light switches before you hastily turned them off once you saw that you had entered a room that you didn't need, but not long after you found what you were looking for: the bed Kishibe needed to pass out on top of.

The bedroom matched the apartment in that it looked rather plain, almost like Kishibe didn't spend a lot of time here. It made sense; with how much he must have on his plate as a devil hunter he probably didn't have the time to decorate his living space. He just needed some place where he could eat, clean himself and then sleep soundly at the end of each day before he returned to his work.

The queen sized bed did look – and feel – rather nice, you felt compelled to note. He must have spent a lot on that to have a good night's sleep.

With your goal of finding where you needed to take him achieved, you returned to the main hallway to retrieve Kishibe. He was where you left him, once more looking dazed as he stared down at the floor beneath his feet. Your gaze traveled down as well, and when you saw the tied up laces of his shoes, you came to a realization.

“Are you going to be able to untie those?” you asked, pointing down at them.

“Probably not.”

At this point you weren't able to be annoyed; it wasn't entirely unexpected given his current state. Just another thing you needed to take care of for him, but at least it wouldn't be as difficult as helping him stumble his way up the stairs.

Do a few things more to help him and then you can go home.

Kneeling down on the surface of the entryway, you reached for the laces of one of his shoes. He didn't say anything as you undid the knots. When you asked him to lift his foot up once they were loosened, he did as you told him and you pulled the shoe off of him, placing it down and out of the way before repeating the process with the other. Again, he said nothing, but you felt those blank brown eyes staring down at you the entire time.

After getting his shoes off, you gently grabbed him by his shoulder and moved him away from the door. Immediately he was back to leaning on you, this time with his nose in your hair. You could feel his breath on your head, followed by the sound of his voice as he let out a content hum.

This was so fucking awkward. He definitely owed you after this.

“Kishibe,” you began, “just a little more walking and then you can rest, okay?”

He grunted again as you once again led him while his weight bore down on you.

With his face still in your hair, you heard the moment when, in the middle of making your way to the bedroom, he inhaled deeply. The sound of that and the feeling forced you to come to a stop.

And after letting out a short breath, you continued to walk with him.

He's drunk, you told yourself. Extremely shit-faced, over the top blackout drunk. He probably wouldn't remember any of this come tomorrow, and while you weren't enjoying this, it'd be better to keep your relationship with him positive. You didn't need to mention any of the creepy parts; just how much you had done to help him.

He'd better be appreciative.

A feeling relief washed over you when you finally got him into the bedroom, the bed only a few feet away.

Pulling forward, you saw this as the final hurdle. Just get him onto the bed. That was all you needed to do, and then you could go home and collapse onto your own not-as-comfortable mattress that had been all you could afford.

You tried to move him so he would lay down on his back, and then you could gently let him go. You didn't really want to bother trying to get him actually into the bed; that seemed like it would take even more time and would be even more of a hassle. No, just getting him on there was enough.

“Alright, here we go.”

Kishibe was supposed to let go as you maneuvered him in front of you. Once he felt the edge of the mattress against the back of his legs, he should've understood that he was safe to fall backwards and that he needed to let you go.

But the arm he had wrapped around your back stayed in place, and when gravity finally won the battle and began to pull him down, you were brought down with him.

A short cry escaped your lips as you ended up on the bed with him, pressed tightly to his chest with your lower half hanging off the mattress.

Goddammit

“I'm sorry,” you began, “I didn't mean for that to happen.”

“Hm.”

You weren't sure of what to make of the way he hummed when you said that, largely because all you wanted in that moment was to get off of him. Bracing your arm on the mattress, you pushed your weight onto it as you tried to get off of him and escape the awkward situation.

Only the arm he had around you wasn't budging.

When a few moments passed with you desperately trying to leave the bed only to have your efforts thwarted by the surprisingly strong grip he had on you, you looked back to him as you asked “Kishibe, could you let me go? I can't get up.”

“Why do you want to get up?” he asked.

“Um, because I need to go home?” you said, surprised that you even needed to clarify that.

“It's late; you should spend the night here.”

“That's okay. I'm sure your couch is comfortable, but I'd really rather sleep in my own bed,” you told him.

“Who said anything about you sleeping on the couch?”

His question made you blink.

“I…. Where else would I…..”

Your question trailed off as you glanced at the mattress you were currently on top of, and a sick feeling began to form in your stomach. A feeling that grew stronger with every moment that passed with his arm still wrapped around you.

“Kishibe, please let go of me,” you said.

“Why?”

“Because I don't like this and I want to go home.”

Again you tried to pull yourself up, and again, Kishibe kept you pressed to his chest.

“Please,” you said again, “I don't want to spend the night-”

You were cut off when you felt his other hand move. Instead of joining the one wrapped around your back, his free hand went down to cup your ass as he blatantly groped you.

Shock and revulsion shot through you and when you struggled again against the grip he had on you, it was with far more force and desperation.

“Let go of me,” you said, “now!”

Again, he only hummed in response.

But that time he actually did let you go, removing his arms and letting them fall to the mattress.

You pulled off immediately, getting to your feet and taking a few steps back in record time, breathing heavily as the brief burst of adrenaline was still running through you. Kishibe remained splayed out on the bed with his legs still hanging off the side. He was still staring at you, however.

After taking in another deep breath, you spoke.

“Rest up and get sober,” you began, “and then when we see each other next, I'd appreciate it if you could come to the bar with an apology.”

You then turned and walked out the door, deciding to leave it at that. Though you noted to yourself that he may very well not remember what you had said or what had happened. As you had told yourself earlier, he was drunk. But even then you didn't intend to back down on this. Even if he didn't remember, at the very least you deserved some form of the word 'sorry' for how he had held you down and tried to coerce you into sleeping with him. Regardless of if his actions were caused by the alcohol, you needed that after he had ignored you the first few times you had told him to let you go.

As long as you could get that, you'd be happy to go back to how your relationship was before, with him as a customer and with the solid surface of the bar separating the two of you.

Returning to the entryway, you quickly collected your shoes and slipped them back on before you prepared yourself for the walk back home. It was late, but you'd probably be okay as long as you hurried back. You probably didn't have the energy for your game, as you'd thought before, so it'd be straight to bed for you once you returned.

As long as you could get a good night's sleep, that was enough.

With that thought in mind, you stood before the front door as you reached for the handle, turned and then pulled it.

The door didn't budge.

“Huh?”

You tried again, turning it again and pulling, just to have the same thing happen.

Maybe I'm turning the handle wrong, you briefly thought, only for your brows to furrow when your attempts to turn the handle upwards resulted in nothing. That wasn't right. Clearly the way you had been trying was correct.

So why wasn't the door opening?

Taking your gaze away from the handle, you noticed something that you had missed earlier: in place of a bolt or a chain on the upper part of the door, there was instead a lock which required a key to open it. Was that really what was keeping you in here?

… It's okay, you told yourself. You left the keys on the table right behind you. One of those would open it.

Your attempts to quell the bad feeling brewing within you were unsuccessful, as when you turned to reach for the keys that you had placed only minutes earlier, you found that they were gone.

….. Were they still there when you had gone back to get Kishibe after turning on the lights? You couldn't remember.

Speaking of Kishibe, he would be the reason why they were gone, right? Thinking back to when you had been searching for the bedroom, that would have given him more than enough time to take the keys and then lock the door. When else would he have been able to do that?

But why would he do that?

“What exactly am I supposed to apologize for?”

Hearing his voice made you jump, and you turned your gaze towards where Kishibe had emerged from as he strolled out into the hallway at a leisurely pace, ending with him leaning against the wall. His large black coat was gone, leaving him clad in his white shirt, black pants and his tie that he had loosened during the time that you had left him alone. In one hand he held his flask, and he unscrewed it to take a long gulp of whatever was in there before he looked back to you, those same blank eyes staring straight at you as he waited for an answer to his question.

He didn't seem quite so inebriated now. He was walking just fine and his gaze was zeroed in on you.

“…. Kishibe, why is the door locked?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing as you stood still within the entryway.

“Because I locked it,” he answered plainly.

“Wh-why?”

“Because I don't want you going out.”

The veteran hunter took another swig from his flask before adding “it's dangerous out there, especially at night. You're much safer inside with me.”

“That's….. That's nice, but I'd really rather go home,” you said.

“Why? Is your cheap apartment really that great?”

His comment made you blink in surprise – you'd never mentioned it, so how in the world did he know anything about your apartment?

“I'd feel a lot more comfortable if I could go back there, yeah,” you told him, “so could you please unlock the door? I don't want to be here any longer.”

Kishibe hummed.

“That's too bad. Because I've decided that you'll be staying here from now on,” he declared.

“….. You can't do that.”

“I just did.”

Kishibe stood to his full height, and that was enough to make you back away until you found yourself pressed against the door, holding your hands to your chest as your heart rate increased. What was happening? Why was this happening? He seemed fine now, despite the state he'd been in – had all of that been a ruse just to get you into his apartment?

Why?

“I don't understand.”

Your words came out hushed, barely able to come out around the blockage in your throat.

“You don't? I would've thought understanding it would be pretty simple,” he said.

He stepped forward, closing the distance between you swiftly and with ease as he told you “you're not leaving. I'm keeping you here so you'll be safe.”

“Safe? From what?”

“Everything.”

Kishibe was standing directly before you now, looming over you as he continued with “humans, devils and whatever else; you won't need to fear them anymore. Nothing will come for you as long as you have me.”

He reached a hand up in a move that looked as though he intended to cup your cheek as he said “all I ask in return is that you do as I say.”

The rough skin of his hands made contact with your cheek as you said nothing in response.

You needed this to be a joke.

You needed to him to take a few more moments for comedic effect before he revealed that he wasn't being serious, be that in the form of the words “just kidding” or “gotcha” or something that told you that the reality of the situation wasn't what you thought it was. Even though this entire scenario was completely abnormal for Kishibe, a man who always seemed serious, you needed him to tell you that it was just a fucked up prank, that he just wanted to mess with you.

It didn't feel in line with the man you had grown to know, but you needed that to be the case.

Except Kishibe never said such a thing to you, instead keeping his hand on your cheek and softly rubbing against your skin, his calloused touch feeling surprisingly gentle.

His thumb then moved across your bottom lip and that sent a jolt down your spine.

You pushed his hand away as you said “this isn't funny.”

“It's not supposed to be,” he told you.

You shook your head.

“You're being weird and you're playing a prank or something stupid like that, but I don't like this and I want to leave.”

Kishibe only hummed at that, which only left you feeling worse.

“Stop this, please,” you said, desperation tinting your voice as you said “the joke has gone on long enough and I want you to let me out.”

But he still didn't say anything further. All he did was stare down at you with a look on his face that you couldn't read while his presence was quickly becoming overwhelming.

Seconds were ticking by and nothing was happening. Kishibe was still standing over you. He wasn't backing away like you wanted. He wasn't agreeing with your assessment that this entire thing was a joke, like you wanted. And he wasn't producing the key and letting you out of what had become a deeply uncomfortable and unsettling scene with him.

The longer it went on, the harder it became for you to breathe, all the while the sick feeling that surrounded you only grew more intense as you were slowly forced to accept the reality of the situation:

He wasn't joking.

And you were helpless.

How long of a period had passed before he spoke again, you had no idea. Too wrapped up in your thoughts and growing fear, it easily could have been minutes or seconds. But you were snapped out of your thoughts instantly when you heard his low voice once more.

“You didn't answer my question earlier: what am I supposed to apologize for?” he asked again.

“For…… For touching me. Grabbing me like you did in the bedroom,” you hesitantly answered.

“I don't see why I should apologize for that.”

Kishibe tilted his head slightly as he continued with “you belong to me now. Why shouldn't I be able to do whatever I want with you?”

His words settled in your mind, your pulse beating rapidly as your mind raced.

Then you screamed.

As loud and as hard as your vocal chords were capable of, you screamed for help as he continued to loom over you. It wasn't brave or noble, but there was nothing else you could do to fight him off. You were too weak for anything like that.

Screaming was all you could do.

The screams for help that tore out of your throat come out with such ferocity that you managed to be surprised initially. Never in your life could you remember the volume of your own voice reaching such levels, but you'd also never been in a situation like this one. You turned away from him in order to pound at the door as you continue to call for help, hoping that the extra noise will help to get someone's attention – be it of one of his neighbors or a passerby on the street – just as long as it's someone who'll call the police. If you can just get one person to inform the authorities that something's wrong, then you'll get out of this.

Just one person with a phone and an idea of where you were. And maybe, just maybe, a group of well-intentioned people who might be brave enough to burst down the door to get to you. Even if Kishibe was strong, he could only take so many opponents at once, right?

Your throat was aching and the way you slammed your hand against the door was became weaker as the pain that shot through your hand was beginning to become too much, but you kept up with it. You needed help. You needed someone to know what was happening before Kishibe shut you up.

…. Before he shut you up?

It hit you then: through all that time of you desperately making a racket and being as loud as possible, Kishibe hadn't once made any effort to keep you quiet.

He still wasn't.

With tears still rolling down your cheeks and your hand still balled up in a fist on the door, the cries that had so forcefully come from your mouth came to an end as you glanced back at him.

He was taking another swig from that flask. Completely at ease and unbothered at your desperate attempt to seek help. You watched in disbelief as his Adam's apple bobbed as the harsh liquor ran down his throat before he pulled the flask away from his lips, just as leisurely screwing the cap back on before the metal container once again disappeared into his pocket.

Kishibe looked at you.

Then he glanced up at the ceiling.

You followed his gaze, and while you didn't see anything odd with the plain white surface above you two, you noticed that something was amiss:

Someone above you was blasting music loud enough that you could almost make out the lyrics of the song that was playing.

…. It hadn't been that way when you first entered the apartment. Nor had it been the case when you had first tried to leave. You would have heard that, would have noted something like that immediately. Which only meant…..

The realization sank in as you looked up to the ceiling in horror, coming to the conclusion that in the middle of your screaming and banging, the person directly above you had heard, and made the decision to play the loud music in an attempt to drown you out so they didn't need to listen anymore.

They didn't want to help you.

“It doesn't sound like they're going to do anything,” Kishibe said to you, drawing your attention back to him.

“Doesn't seem like anyone else is going to bother, either,” he added, reaching back up with his hand so he could place it on the door by your head as he leaned in closer.

“You're alone in this.”

The cold words he spoke sent a shudder through you, and you shook your head as if denying what he had just told you would somehow change the way things were going.

“Why?” you asked, your voice wavering as you continued “why won't anyone help me?”

“Because nothing bad is happening to them, so they don't care,” he answered plainly, “maybe if they knew you, it might bother them. But bad things happen to complete strangers everyday; just because this time it's a bit closer in proximity doesn't make them care any more or any less.”

His other hand reached up to play with your hair, almost absentmindedly running his fingers through the strands as he continued to speak.

“As long as they're in the clear at the end of the day, that's all that matters to them,” he said.

“That's…. That's not true,” you sniffled, “someone out there wants to help me. They need to.”

Kishibe shrugged.

“Maybe some would,” he said, “but clearly those people aren't in earshot right now.”

The callousness of his words sent your emotions into a frenzy once again. Tears began running down your cheeks again while you sobbed. Only you weren't screaming this time, nor were you banging against the door. What was the point? If no one would help you even after hearing that, then why bother?

All you could do was cry about it like the pathetic weakling you were.

With your forehead pressed against the door, you weren't able to see any of what Kishibe was doing. You knew he was still behind you – it was hard to ignore how closely he was looming over you – but he had yet to do anything to you.

Would he even do anything?

As soon as you thought that, you remembered how he had groped you in the bedroom, how he had held you down against him even when you told him to let you go. In that same moment, you felt one of his hands around your waist and his fingers slipping beneath the layers of your hoodie and shirt so he could caress your skin directly. His other hand found its way to your jaw so he could direct your attention towards him once again.

Of course he'd do something further. Why had you even considered that he might not?

The blank brown eyes you had grown to know met yours, and despite the futility of the situation, you still made yourself put out one last plea. Even if he was odd, he was still human at the end of the day, and therefore, he needed to have some sort of empathy, right?

“I won't go to the police – I won't say anything about this to anyone,” you told him, “so please, reconsider.”

“No.”

His answer to your request was swift; he didn't think twice about it nor was he moved in any way.

Kishibe had made up his mind and there was no changing it.

Just as swiftly as his answer, he then angled your jaw upward so he could claim your lips in a kiss.

The taste on his tongue was harsh, a cocktail of the liquor he'd consumed over the course of the evening. The strongest remnant of alcohol that flooded your senses was most likely whatever he had just gulped down from his flask. The stubble around his lips brushed against your skin and the sensation made you jump, though with the hand he still had on your jaw, you again were unable to escape his grasp. There was nowhere for you to go; he had you pressed firmly between the front door and himself. The only bit of freedom he allowed you were the ways in which you trembled beneath his grasp, how you shook and shivered while his free hand continued to caress the skin beneath your shirt.

The whimpers you made in response to his touch were swallowed up by his mouth as he prolonged what was certainly a show of mockery for an action that was meant to be tender.

Did he really need to torment you in this way?

When he pulled away from the kiss he did so with a clear plan in mind, as his hands immediately went to the zipper of your hoodie and forced it down before pulling the entire piece of clothing off of you, taking your bag with it. Both items were tossed behind him and he quickly placed his hands on you once again, moving them all over as he explored your body through your clothes. Even through your clothing at acted as a sort of barrier, the feeling of his calloused palms stroking up your sides and down your spine were enough to make you jolt in place and force whimpers out of your mouth.

He moved in closer, pressing up directly behind you which allowed you to feel the growing bulge in his pants.

When he shifted his focus in order to grope your breasts through the material of your shirt, you placed your head so it was pressed against the door again, still sobbing. All you wanted in that moment was to become one with the door; merge into it so he couldn't do this to you anymore. You didn't care what happened to you, just as long as this would stop.

Instead of that mercy, Kishibe continued to toy with your chest. Then he began to speak.

“I'm a bit surprised you let it get as far as what happened in the bedroom,” he told you, “you really had no issue going into a man's apartment that you'd never been to before? There was nothing that raised any alarm for you until I had you on top of me?”

You whimpered.

“You're too naive; that's why you won't be leaving. If I don't step in you'll get yourself killed.”

His thumb and pointer finger found your nipple through your clothes, and when he began to focus on that by pinching it between his fingers, a strangled noise emerged from your throat.

Kishibe felt the need to comment on that.

“Do you like being played with from behind? You're more responsive to this than I was expecting,” he said.

“N-no….”

Your shirt remained as it was only for a few more moments before he decided that he wanted to feel your bare skin, resulting in him ripping your shirt down the neckline and pulling your bra down with it. With skin now on skin, it was instantly noticeable when the shrieks that left your mouth as his fingers tweaked your nipples sounded less horrified and more wanton.

“You really do like this,” Kishibe said, a hint of pleasure in his voice.

“No,” you said again.

Instead of acknowledging your denial, his hot breath hit your ear as he said “I was thinking it'd probably take a little bit to get you wet enough so fucking you would be a bit more comfortable, but I probably don't need to wait all that long, do I? If those noises of yours are any indication, I bet I could slide into you right now.”

“No!”

Even with you raising your voice, he still wasn't listening.

His hands crept around your waist again before they found the zipper of your pants. The sound of it zipping open seemed loud within the space of your head, but it didn't compare to the feeling of his thumbs slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear before he shoved your panties down past your thighs, taking your pants with them.

With your most intimate area now exposed, you shuddered as the chill air attacked your flesh. When Kishibe began to palm and knead your ass, you whimpered. Your lower half was then pulled away from the door and he moved his knee between your thighs so he could spread your legs wider. You could feel how heavy his gaze was on your cunt. Heat filled your cheeks while you bit down on your lip, the tears that were still flowing now a bit more angry.

It was humiliating. He had you pressed against the surface of the door, your palms laying flat against it while your ass was sticking out. You didn't want to merge with the door anymore; you wanted to curl up and die.

But even that wasn't an option for you.

A pair of thick fingers found their way to your cunt, caressing your folds in a way that felt experimental before his middle finger slipped between them, the tip shallowly ghosting along your heated entrance which caused you to shudder. The wetness that was beginning to drip out of you easily coated his fingertip, much to his amusement.

“Thought so,” he said.

“No.”

It wasn't true. You weren't enjoying this; just because he forced such a reaction out of you didn't mean that you wanted it. He knew that but he was just insisting on being as horrible as possible. How could you have not realized what he was really like until now?

“Hard to argue when I have the evidence smeared on my fingers, don't you think?” Kishibe asked you. He pushed his digits into your folds for emphasis, and the squelching sounds of him dipping into your wet heat only made you more ashamed. His free hand then returned to your chest while he fingered your cunt.

His fingers were sliding along your walls easier than you would have liked, and the feeling of his blunt nails inside of you as he stretched you out caused several shudders to run through your body, becoming intense enough that you needed to bite down hard on your lip to try and keep down the shameful whining noises that wanted to emerge because of it.

He must have noticed the way you were trying to keep it in as he way he was fingering you suddenly became rougher, with him curling his fingers while searching for the sensitive spots inside of you. He moved in closer as well, breathing huskily into your ear as he spoke to you.

“I wish I'd done this sooner,” Kishibe whispered, “if I had known how eager you would be for me, I wouldn't have wasted so much time before.”

No insults or retorts left your mouth that time; you were too busy trying to be as quiet as possible as all you could focus on was the awful affect he was having on you while his fingers continued to slide in and out. He was being rougher now because he wanted to humiliate you even more – that was the only explanation. To have you moan like you were enjoying this as a way to torment you further. As if the way your wetness was dripping down the inside of your thighs wasn't enough, turning cold once it hit the open air and sending more shudders running through you.

When his other hand came down to toy with your clit, you ended up biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. You hated how it felt good. How the feeling of his fingers rubbing hard circles against that nub had your legs shaking and your insides burning. Kishibe intended for you to cum on his fingers, and you hated that he would more than likely be successful in that goal.

Why aren't you stopping him?

…..It hit you that you hadn't really tried much to get away from him. Aside from the way you ordered him to let go and how you pushed his hand away, there was very little in terms of actual resistance on your part.

But what could you even do? How would a civilian fight off an expert devil hunter?

Even though you couldn't imagine any scenario where you on your own managed to get away from him, maybe the way you had done nothing other than cry through your assault had been enough to reaffirm in his mind that you needed to be kept away from the world. For your safety, he said.

You wondered if he was actually delusional enough to believe that excuse.

That train of thought was derailed completely when you felt Kishibe's fingers brush against a spot within you in tandem with the fingers on your clit, and your vision whited out as he forced out the reaction he'd been looking for.

You came on his fingers.

Your face and ears were burning and you could taste iron from your bleeding lip as you tried your hardest to keep in those awful moans.

Mercifully, he didn't continue fingering you when you came. Instead he seemed to savor the way you were clenching down around him as you heard him let out a breathy sigh into your ear. When you had finished, he stayed like that, his chest pressed against your back and the fingers on your clit giving you one last stroke before he pulled away.

After another moment, he pulled his fingers out of you, his hands finally leaving those sensitive, intimate areas. A new wave of anxiety washed over you as you had a horrible idea of what was going to follow.

You heard his belt being undone. And then his zipper, which was hastily followed by the sound of his pants being shoved down.

And then his hands were back around your waist, pulling you back into the position he had forced you into earlier that you had unconsciously moved from as your body unintentionally moved back to press against the door, still trying to escape him even though you knew there was no point.

He spread open the lips of your pussy, guiding his cock to your entrance after. Your breath hitched when you felt him rub the tip against your folds, gathering up your wetness on the end of his length just as he'd done with his fingers earlier.

He shoved himself in.

And once he was inside of you, he only took a brief moment to savor it, letting out a small sigh of contentment as he finally got to experience the feeling of the walls of your cunt clamping down on his dick.

“Good girl,” Kishibe mumbled.

Your heart was in your throat, however, as despite knowing where things would be heading once he had begun kissing and groping you earlier, the feeling of his dick being sheathed halfway into you just cemented that this was real: he'd locked you in his apartment and claimed you as his own. And if he continued to get his way from this point, then this would be the rest of your life, one spent as a plaything to Kishibe's whims.

Only for a moment was that thought able to run through your head, however, because soon after he began to fuck you in earnest. Despite your successful resistance before, you weren't able to keep quiet once you felt him moving against you, his cock plugging up your hole again and again as his hips thrust hard against your ass. The sobs that were mixed with your moans bounced against the surface of the door, filling up the small, empty space of the entryway.

If only you were loud enough to drown out the noises Kishibe was making.

For a man who was normally so quiet, there was no attempt on his part to keep in his own groans and grunts. Still positioned with his mouth by your ear as he kept you close to him, you heard everything. His own harsh breathing mixed with small curses that left his lips in time with the cock that was slamming into you. Swears that were changed out for praise of you when his fingers returned to your clit to stimulate you further, causing your sensitive walls to quiver around him.

The words “good girl” were said to you many times during that period.

Your back quickly became sticky with sweat, your own body heat combined with that of Kishibe making it get to the point that it was becoming too much. The feeling of cold from when you had been outside was forgotten as it felt like every part of you was burning up while his body was engulfing your own as he used you to chase his pleasure. You wanted him away from you, just a little bit.

With a shaking hand, you pressed it against his chest as best you could with the awkward position, silently trying to communicate that want of yours.

Kishibe grabbed your wrist and forced it back against the doorway, keeping his hand gripped firmly around your arm and refusing to let go even when you tried to wiggle out of it. Eventually you were forced to give up on getting what you wanted.

Just like everything else tonight.

With the brute strength he was displaying as he pounded into your pussy and how sensitive you still were from your previous orgasm, you found yourself cumming much faster the second time. Your pussy walls clenched hard around him once again, but this time Kishibe made the choice to fuck you through it.

That only prolonged your orgasm, and the longer it went on, the more strained your moans became as your throat was thoroughly raw by that point.

Once your pleasure faded, you were left waiting for Kishibe to finish. Something you didn't need to wait long for as soon enough you felt him stiffen within you, and then his swollen cock erupted, long white streams of cum painting your insides as he kept himself pressed close, wanting to be as deep within you as possible. He groaned loudly as he did so, and his hand returned to your breast to knead the soft flesh once more as his own orgasm began to ebb away, his cock still twitching in the aftermath.

The entryway was now filled with the breathless gasps of the both of you and the scent of sweat and sex.

Once his cock had softened, Kishibe released the grip he had on you and pulled his dick out of your pussy, and finally, he stepped away from you.

Immediately you slumped down, exhausted, your front half still pressed against the door while you sat in the entryway, your pants still around your ankles and Kishibe's cum and your own release dripping down your thighs and onto the floor beneath you. You still had tears to shed, apparently, as the sight had you going back to sobbing. Your throat hurt and your nose was stuffy, but all you could think about was how you wished you hadn't made the choice to help Kishibe earlier.

If only you had decided to go with your own selfish instincts, you wouldn't be here right now. By now you probably would've been asleep, safe and sound in your own bed in your own apartment, and the only danger you would be facing would be the possibility of your next door neighbor's children running wild again and slamming doors so hard that the walls would shake.

Being reminded of your day off that you had planned out had you crying harder as you realized you couldn't ever go back to days like that.

God how you wished you could redo your actions from tonight.

You were reminded of Kishibe's presence when you felt his hand run down your back, his knuckles grazing you lightly and with a touch so soft that it felt out of place when you thought of what you had just experienced at his hands.

He wasn't trying to comfort you, was he?

With robotic movements, you turned your head once again so you could see him, see the face of the man who had hurt you so horribly. Unsurprisingly, there was no real emotion to be gleaned from his expression as it was as blank as it always was. Though when you looked at his eyes, you found that there was a hint of something there. Something more intense and obsessive than you had ever witnessed from anyone, much less Kishibe.

“You did good,” he told you.

“Fuck you,” you weakly hissed in response.

“Mm, not right now. Maybe in the morning.”

He moved his hand to your upper arm, squeezing you in what seemed to be an encouraging manner as he said “it's late now. We should get some rest.”

“Can you walk, or should I carry you?” Kishibe then asked.

You didn't respond. Instead you shrugged off his hand and turned your head to face the door, not wanting to look at him any longer.

“Alright then.”

Within a moment, you were scooped up off of the floor and into his arms with surprising ease, and while you were feeling disoriented from the way you were moved about like that, Kishibe had turned and walked away from the door with you held firmly against his chest.

It shouldn't have been too much of a shock that it was this easy for him to pick you up, and yet…..

“You could have just forcibly taken me if you wanted,” you mumbled.

“I could have,” he said.

The way he so readily agreed with you turned your emotions to anger once again.

“So why bother with all that bullshit?” you snapped.

“Because I thought the way you doted on me was nice,” Kishibe said.

“You're a scumbag.”

“Hm.”

Kishibe neither agreed nor disagreed with you, as he stepped into the bedroom with you, taking care to make sure your feet didn't hit the door frame as he carried you in. Once the two of you were fully inside, he stopped and then looked at you.

Having his gaze fully on you once again had that bit of anger die out, as suddenly you felt more vulnerable than you'd ever felt in your life before this point. Your shirt was torn and the majority your legs were still bare as he hadn't bothered to readjust your pants before he'd grabbed you, so you were in his arms with your pants around your ankles.

Not just humiliating, but awkward as well, especially when you moved to cover yourself back up as the way he stared at you had those intense feelings of shame and helplessness running through you once again. Though you knew it wouldn't accomplish much of anything, and especially not when you were at the mercy of Kishibe's whims.

“Did I say you could cover up?”

The sound of his voice made you freeze, and then when you processed his words, you began to shake in his grip. While it seemed that you were out of tears to shed, you were still able to sniffle softly in despair.

That got him to react, and Kishibe leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead before he buried his face into your hair again.

“It'll be hard for now, but it will get better,” he told you.

You only shook harder in his grip.

With a hum against your hair, he spoke again.

“You should be happy. In this world where people's priorities are on themselves and themselves alone, you have someone who's willing to do anything to look out for you.”

And with that, Kishibe used his foot to close the bedroom door firmly behind the both of you.

[vinceaddams]

Any tips on learning to make buttonholes? I've been putting it off for.... *checks notes* like three years.... but better late than never and all that. I don't have any fancy machines so I gotta do it by hand but that seems right up your alley.

Thanks!

It IS up my alley, yes, I do most of my buttonholes by hand!

I'm actually part way through filming an 18th century buttonhole tutorial, but I expect it'll be a few more weeks before I finish that and put it on the youtubes, so in the meantime here's the very very short version. (The long version is looking like it'll probably be about 40 minutes maybe, judging by how much script I've written compared to my last video?)

Mark your line, a bit longer than your button is wide. I usually use a graphite mechanical pencil on light fabrics, and a light coloured pencil crayon on dark ones. (I have fabric pencils too, but they're much softer and leave a thicker line.) You may want to baste the layers together around all the marked buttonholes if you're working on something big and the layers are shifty and slippery. I'm not basting here because this is just a pants placket.

Do a little running stitch (or perhaps a running backstitch) in fine thread around the line at the width you want the finished buttonhole to be. This holds the layers of fabric together and acts as a nice little guide for when you do the buttonhole stitches.

Cut along the marked line using a buttonhole cutter, or a woodworking chisel. Glossy magazines are the best surface to put underneath your work as you push down, and you can give it a little tap with a rubber mallet if it's not going through all the way.

I'm aware that there are some people who cut their buttonholes open using seam rippers, and if any of them are reading this please know that that is abhorrent behaviour and I need you to stop it immediately. Stop it.

Go get a buttonhole cutter for 10 bucks and your life will be better for it. Or go to the nearest hardware store and get a little woodworking chisel. This includes machine buttonholes, use the buttonhole cutter on them too. If you continue to cut open buttonholes with a seam ripper after reading this you are personally responsible for at least 3 of the grey hairs on my head.

Do a whipstitch around the cut edges, to help prevent fraying while you work and to keep all those threads out of the way. (For my everyday shirts I usually do a machine buttonhole instead of this step, and then just hand stitch over it, because it's a bit faster and a lot sturdier on the thin fabrics.)

I like to mark out my button locations at this point, because I can mark them through the holes without the buttonhole stitches getting in the way.

For the actual buttonhole stitches it's really nice if you have silk buttonhole twist, but I usually use those little balls of DMC cotton pearl/perle because it's cheap and a good weight. NOT stranded embroidery floss, no separate strands! It's got to be one smooth twisted thing!

Here's a comparison pic between silk buttonhole twist (left) and cotton pearl (right). Both can make nice looking buttonholes, but the silk is a bit nicer to work with and the knots line up more smoothly.

I've actually only used the silk for one garment ever, but am going to try to do it more often on my nicer things. I find the cotton holds up well enough to daily wear though, despite being not ideal. The buttonholes are never the first part of my garments to wear out.

I cut a piece of about one arm's length more or less, depending on the size of buttonhole. For any hole longer than about 4cm I use 2 threads, one to do each side, because the end gets very frayed and scruffy by the time you've put it through the fabric that many times.

I wax about 2cm of the tip (Not the entire thread. I wax the outlining/overcasting thread but not the buttonhole thread itself.) to make it stick in the fabric better when I start off the thread. I don't tend to tie it, I just do a couple of stabstitches or backstitches and it holds well. (I'm generally very thorough with tying off my threads when it comes to hand sewing, but a buttonhole is basically a long row of knots, so it's pretty sturdy.)

Put the needle through underneath, with the tip coming up right along that little outline you sewed earlier. And I personally like to take the ends that are already in my hand and wrap them around the tip of the needle like so, but a lot of people loop the other end up around the other way, so here's a link to a buttonhole video with that method. Try both and see which one you prefer, the resulting knot is the same either way.

Sometimes I can pull the thread from the end near the needle and have the stitch look nice, but often I grab it closer to the base and give it a little wiggle to nestle it into place. This is more necessary with the cotton than it is with the silk.

The knot should be on top of the cut edge of the fabric, not in front of it.

You can put your stitches further apart than I do if you want, they'll still work if they've got little gaps in between them.

Keep going up that edge and when you get to the end you can either flip immediately to the other side and start back down again, or you can do a bar tack. (You can also fan out the stitches around the end if you want, but I don't like to anymore because I think the rectangular ends look nicer.)

Here's a bar tack vs. no bar tack sample. They just make it look more sharp, and they reinforce the ends.

For a bar tack do a few long stitches across the entire end.

And then do buttonhole stitches on top of those long stitches. I also like to snag a tiny bit of the fabric underneath.

Then stick the needle down into the fabric right where you ended that last stitch on the corner of the bar tack, so you don't pull that corner out of shape, and then just go back to making buttonhole stitches down the other side.

Then do the second bar tack once you get back to the end.

To finish off my thread I make it sticky with a bit more beeswax, waxing it as close to the fabric as I can get, and then bring it through to the back and pull it underneath the stitches down one side and trim it off.

In my experience it stays put perfectly well this way without tying it off.

Voila! An beautiful buttonholes!

If you want keyhole ones you can clip or punch a little rounded bit at one end of the cut and fan your stitches out around that and only do the bar tack at one end, like I did on my 1830's dressing gown.

(I won't do that style in my video though, because they're not 18th century.)

Do samples before doing them on a garment! Do as many practice ones as you need to, it takes a while for them to get good! Mine did not look this nice 10 years ago.

Your first one will probably look pretty bad, but your hundredth will be much better!

Edit: Video finished!

And here's the blog post, which is mostly a slightly longer version of this post.

[v1x3n]

COD MEN AND THEIR FIRST DATE WITH YOU

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY — your first actual date would be at his, he has set his living room up in soft blankets and the coffee table cluttered in snacks and fizzy drinks. the lights turned off as he guides you to the couch, the tv turned on and your favorite movie paused. he mumbles something about wanting to make you feel better after you had a shitty week. a smile grows on your mouth as you settle into the sofa, watching your favorite film. his attention isnt much on the movie, his eyes linger on your glowing smile, and he thinks to himself; fuck, youre so pretty right now. after the film, he orders take away and you two chatter, putting on a random series for backround noise. soon it gets very late and you leave his house, fed and happy. but before you leave he receives a kiss on the cheek and a very happy thank you.

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MCTAVISH — he definitely does something wacky, but makes sure you likes it ofc. his ideal first date would be bowling maybe something along that line. at the start he goes easy on you, purposely missing some of the pins or throwing the ball weakly. but after a bit maybeee he gets a little competitive, striking all the pins st once - earning a gasp from you. ofc you aren't going to be as good as him but you still try and he can see that. when you ended up getting all of the pins, you spin around as he smirks at you and gives you a cheeky well done. in the end, he won, obviously. you almost passed him though! heading to Nando's after, you two yap the entire time until finishing your meals. he obviously goes with something hot to impress you, but when his lips go bright red and he curses, grabbing his coke and chugging the whole thing - you burst out laughing. you give his swollen lips a peck when he drives you home.

KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK — takes you too a bar, buys a few drinks for the two of you. not enough to get you pissed but enough to get you a little tipsy. chattering and giggling between the two of yous while you order some chips and a burger. its quite casual, but the both of you like it like that. you told him he didn't need to take you somewhere proper and fancy, the local pub - well maybe a nicer pub - would do. after he walks you home, yapping together and soft smiles while you slightly shiver in the cold air. noticing the hairs on your arms rising and the hitch in your breath when a gust of freezing air blows past the two of you. he snorts and takes his jacket off, laying it over your shoulders when he grumbles a quick, 'ere'. when you get to your house, he brings his arms up and down yours, warming you up the slightest. after kissing the top of your head - you kiss the corner of his mouth. then your two mouths connect in a small peck, blushing instantly. he silently cheers himself on once your door shuts in his face - celebrating that he just kissed a gorgeous girl.

JOHN PRICE — always listens to everything you ever say, you mention you like this one restaurant? oh? its your favourite? hes taking you there. you smile up at him when he drives you to the familiar parking lot, telling him you love this place! his cheery smile when you two go inside and sits opposite you. ordering off the menu and giving you subtle looks when your eyes scan through the familiar menu. he orders for you when the waiter comes over and your cheeks slightly blush at that. he speaks up that your outfit is gorgeous and tells you that your hair looks so nice, your blush creeps across your cheeks. face heating up as you see his gaze travel to the smile that plasters onto your face. once you have tea, he makes sure to take you somewhere else after - make a night outa it. he takes you to walk down the beach after, the moonlight shining off of your face as you two talk about the most randomist of things. he spoke about his job, and you told him about yours. nearing the end you two walk back up to the car, and he drives you home. before you leave you peck him on the cheek to thank him for the date, telling him you hoped the second date could come soon. john watches you walk down your front garden - unlocking the door. making sure you get in okay. dreaming about the second date.

PHILLIP GRAVES — took you to the cinema, you had mentioned that you wanted to see this film... so here you are. he had bought you the nice chairs, the ones that had extra cup holders and the fabric was more comfortable. you reminded him it was okay and he didn't haf too but he didn't listen obviously. once you got there he instantly moved the armrest between yous up so you two could be closer! he buys you sweets and popcorn from a local shop, as many as you want he told you. with a carrier bag full of just utter shit, you two enjoy the movie he picked. well, you enjoy it - his eyes are mainly on you, the twitches in your face when something sad or happy happens and the way you struggle to sit in a position were all so cute to him. throughout the movie he tries to gain enough courage to wrap his arms around your waist or at least his shoulders. yeah he was normally a confident guy but something about you just made him all fluttery and nervous. once successfully wrapping his arm around your waist, you snuggle towards him and embrace his warmth. he smiles at that. spilt popcorn on the floor and the movie credits roll, you both stand up and snort at the mess on both your laps. wiping off the remains of the bag of popcorn, you two walk out and yap about the movie. safe to say he didn't have much input.

[suiana]

(yandere! bully victim x gn! bully reader) (cw: erm... yandere stuff, body horror or whatever its called idk bruh, he kinda carves his name into ur skin but its not mentioned in detail)

"how does it feel to be on the receiving end now, huh?"

you shiver, letting out a strained sound as you trash on the table.

"pluh- mn!"

"what was that? you've got to be clearer with your words, my dear. how do you expect me to understand muffles?"

the male hums, his cold hands dancing across your body. you could only shiver yet again, unable to do anything but remain binded to the table.

"oh, sorry, i forgot you couldn't speak. haha, how silly of me."

yeah, how silly of him to completely gag you so you couldn't speak. how completely silly of him to tie you to some cold table, restraining all your movements so that you couldn't fight back against him. how absolutely whimsical for him to be recording all your grunts, groans, and whines while you were completely restrained.

well, you suppose it's a bit ironic. considering that you were the one doing it to him when the both of you were younger. albeit not on this level.

you wonder if this was how he felt. vulnerable, naked, defenseless.

it happened so long ago, but the wounds you inflicted on him were still fresh. no matter how hard you try apologizing, his scars still bleed warm.

you shouldn't have been mean to him. you really shouldn't. especially when he was so much nicer back then.

"mn... you have no idea how much I've wanted to do this. it really makes me happy to see you so..."

he pauses, eyes raking over your form that was tied down to his table.

"so weak."

we've all watched the movies where the bully gets put in place and completely punished. you used to laugh at those films. i mean, how could the bully even be so stupid to get karma for their actions? couldn't they have hid better? tried making up for it? why did they have to go through the consequences of their actions? what idiots!

but now that it's happening to you, you wish you hadn't said those words.

the second you found out that your ex-victim was your boss, you couldn't even as much as utter a word. no, you felt like you were about to have a mental breakdown. especially because you were now his secretary, working for him.

"come on, what happened to that big, scary, and mean ol' bully that i knew? the one that used to pour water over my head and have their friends restrain me?"

his words have a hunt of condescension- no, they were fully condescending. he was mocking you right now. mocking you for your stupidity, mocking you for your actions. and he was absolutely taking pleasure in seeing you in such a weak and reduced state. a shell of the person you once were.

you couldn't do anything but to take it like the loser you were.

"haha, look at you. all tied down and gagged like the dog you are. why don't you bark for me? maybe I'll be nicer if you act like a stupid bitch in heat."

he laughs, hands resting on your clothed abdomen. his hair falls over his eyes, the usual up kept man looking like a mess as he continues to taunt you.

"you know, when i confessed to liking you, i never expected you to bully me. seriously. i thought you'd be like, I don't know, nice about it. if you were nice I don't think I'd have stalked you and do all this. would've courted you normally until you accepted. I'm a patient guy after all."

the words that come out of his mouth have just the tiniest bit of sadness in them. however, it's completely squashed down by the sharp look in his eyes.

"had i known you'd be such an ass about it... I'd have just taken you for myself right there and then. who cares about having a normal relationship, right? as long as you're with me, it's all that matters."

right, like what he was doing right now. ever since you started working for him he's been constantly... acting like he was your boyfriend rather than your boss. constantly giving you gifts, telling you that it was okay that you bullied him because he knows you're just shy and that he'll make things right... the worst part was when he forbid you from interacting with others.

it was fucking creepy.

things were only worsened when he found you on a night out at a bar, flirting with some random stranger. you had wanted to let loose and relieve some stress but it looks like karma loved to see you suffer.

"what are you doing? are you cheating on me?"

what the fuck?! you stare at your boss in horror, freezing in place. quickly turning back to the stranger you were flirting with, you shake your head and apologize, explaining that your boss was just a little weird. why the hell is he even here?!

"look, I'm sorry but he's a bit of a creep and-"

"my darling, i think it's time we go back home. you've had one too many drinks."

that experience was only the start of an even worser time. one that led him to declare to the whole damn world that you were now his in a fit of anger and mania. i mean, he practically has you locked in his house now. and it wasn't even illegal since you agreed to come.

he had called you to sort out some paperwork or whatever and you being his secretary... you couldn't refuse even if you wanted to. so you made your way to his house, all naive and ignorant of what was to come the second he opened those doors to that luxurious mansion of his.

you passed out and the next thing you knew, you were restrained to the table, gagged and staring at him with a half lidded look in your eyes.

god damn it, you should've known better than to believe this crazy guy's words. why would you willingly go to his place where there'd be no one but you two? ugh, stupid, stupid, stupid.

and now you could only express how terrified you were with your eyes and shivering body.

"how cute. how seriously cute. I've always wanted to see you look at me with that expression."

he coos, lips stretched into a smirk as he leans down to your face. his breath hits your skin, cold hands trailing up your chest and to your jaw before he grips hard.

"you're mine. it wasn't clear when i was just a boy but you've always been mine. since the day i let you bullied me, and even right now, I've made it clear. you're mine, and always will be mine."

he's right, you've always been his. why else would this rich and obviously powerful guy just let you bully him? he could've had you gone the second you made a move on him but instead...

"i still remember the slaps and bruises you left on me. ah... you were so cute back then. hitting me like that. should've scarred me too, maybe then I'd see your horrified face whenever i flashed it."

a sadist. you're sure that he's some sort of sadistic masochist.

"oh well, it's no matter. I've done that job for you."

he pulls away, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his bare upper body to you. to say that you were completely terrified would be an understatement. because why the hell was your first name (and his last name btw) painfully carved into his other flawless skin? right above his heart, no less!

"isn't it beautiful? you're forever with me now."

his words send a chill down your body. what the hell, you don't want to be with him at all! and it looks like he sensed that but chose to ignore your feelings.

your boss smiles at you before pulling out a small blade from his pants.

oh hell nah.

"it's your turn, darling."

no no no, you don't like where this is going. your body trashes violently against the cold hard table he had you strapped in, pupils blown wide as adrenaline fills your veins.

"mgh! mf!"

"hey hey, quiet down. it's only fair that i get to do it to you, right? consider this my payback. you had your fun and now I'm having mine."

no! shit shit shit, what are you supposed to do?!

you try shaking your head, sweat forming on your skin as your breath grows laboured. your body continues to trash against the bindings, but it looks like the bindings were done just a little too well.

"hm... should i do it somewhere visible? or maybe... right where your heart would be?"

you shake violently, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

"nh! mh!"

"aw, is my little darling about to cry? that's so cute. go on, cry for me. cry for me just like i cried for you."

tears fall down your cheeks as he trails the vlade over your clothes. the sharpness of the item has you shivering, cold dread creeping up your spine at the very thought of that anywhere on your skin.

"hm... since you look so scared, I'll carve my initials instead of my full name. how about that? a good offer if i say so myself."

if you could speak, you'd be cursing and begging him to stop. unfortunately that wasn't the case and your boss took your lack of words as the green light.

"don't worry, I'll kiss your pain away afterwards. it'll be over before you know it."

oh god damn it, you really should've just politely rejected him when he confessed.

[bunny-jpeg]

hey bunny! Could i get a root beer and an iced tea with a lemon slice with max verstappen?

bakery menu!

want to suggest your own order? the bakery is open! please come in and check out the menu! i was very interested in this combo for the order! photography + accidental reveal of your relationship, VERY saucy! thank you for the order! hope you enjoy!

lemon slice ("i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making.) + root beer (filming/recording) + iced tea (accidentally launching relationship) served by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, photography/filming, (accidental) hard launching a relationship, rivals to lovers, rivals au, driver!reader, cowgirl position

"hey, verstappen. i have a question for you? you asked as you cut up the chicken for dinner. to split between you and max.

he was getting plates from the cupboard as he responded with, "i guess you could. is it a hard question?"

"not really." you said as you turned around with the knife in your hand, "you wouldn't hard launch our relationship with consulting the team first, right?"

"should i be worried about the knife in your hand?"

"no. unless you do something stupid."

"no, it would be something we did together. i'm not going to leave you out in an announcement of our relationship." he split the chicken and vegetables between two plates before you went to eat.

"i mean you have all those photos." you said.

"i'm certain most of them will get me in trouble with instagram." he chuckled, "plus, most of them are in a safe file. no one can get to them but me.. and i guess you."

"what's the code."

he took a bite out of his food as he said, "oh, your birthday." then smiled at you. it was reassuring.

"you said most of them. why not all of them?"

he scratched his jaw as he said, "because sometimes, when we're apart. i want to look at you. and i can't look at you too long while in interviews. people will notice. so some of the... nicer photos are kept out. i promise they don't make us look like a couple!"

you two were both drivers. have been for some time. you were two years younger than him, but had already made a big name for yourself. this arrangement you two had, see-sawed between rivals and lovers.

you pushed each other for greatness, but if there were any bruises or scrapes, you'd kiss them gently. you knew that he wanted you on his team, you'd often joke that either you'd kill one another or be too powerful.

he one time joked, "we could just get married and have the strongest team on the track." then gave you that smile of his that made you weak.

you both tried not to talk about the future too much. who knows what it will all come to in a few years. if you'll even be together or driving or alive. there was always the risk of it all ending, and you two have had enough scares over your careers.

but you knew that max looked at your left hand and let the thoughts wander. and in all fairness, you let him have that. because deep down if he proposed, you'd say yes.

after dinner the two of you were in the bedroom. you were straddling his waist, kissing him deeply on the lips. the kisses were wet and sweet, his strange arms around you.

you pulled away and made a small moaning noise as you felt his clothed erection up against him.

he asked, "i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making." as he kissed at your jaw, his cock stirred in his pants.

you swallowed, "i need you, max. i need you in such a painful way. you've all i've been thinking about since the last race. i wanted to see you so badly when you got out of your car."

he held you by the hips and laid out onto the bed. he looked up at you with a smile on his face. you slowly got out of your clothes and he eyed every inch of you. even when you struggled to get your pants off. when you were naked, you got him naked in return and his hands roamed your naked body.

oh you were a sight to behold under all of those baggy clothes you often wore. he gripped onto the meat of your hips, and let out a soft groan. now both naked, it felt great between you two.

you rubbed your slick pussy up against his hard cock. you clawed at his chest as you rolled your hips across his cock. you felt the pleasure leap in your chest, which made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

"that feels good." he said lowly, "you're so pretty when you're like this. on top of me, your pretty cunt about to take me whole." he massaged your hips as he tried to coax you onto his length.

"i know you always loved a woman on top." you chuckled as you spread your hands across his abdomen and slowly sank down on his impressive cock. it fit perfectly and made your back arch at the feeling. you cursed under your breath as you held onto him.

you felt the heat on you as rolled your hips against him. your skin was flushed as your rolled your hips. you leaned in and kissed him on the lips.

he moaned into the kiss, he got his arms around you. he pulled your chest close to his and moved against you. those strong arms kept you pinned to him as he felt the rush of pleasure in his body.

you sloppily made out with him as you held his shoulders. being so close to him made intimacy bloom in your chest. it felt so good being so close to you. you were a lucky woman to have met a man like him.

even though you two were rivals, tied in ways that others weren't. a string of fate connected you two together. but, you couldn't think of a better rival.

a man who pushed you to be the best, and let you shined when you succeeded. a man who remembered your birthday, the day you started racing, even what day you got that scar on your arm from. you understood him piece by piece too. you were both intertwined with one another.

you continued to move against one another, pushing each other to heightened pleasure. you felt the leap in your chest as you clung to him. your kisses were messy and your core throbbed for him.

he adored you in every way he could, he'd have you anyway he could. his kisses trailed past your lips and down your neck. you gripped onto him and continued your movements.

"it feels good being this close to you." he said softly, "i love how you feel against me. you're so good to me, you're a perfect lover."

you looked at him and said, "every time i look at you, i feel myself lose track of everything. when i'm with you, i just want to be with you." then pulled him in for another hot kiss. you drag your tongue across his bottom lip and he groaned.

"you drive me crazy."

"like you're a saint, i know that you'd raised those are a little higher sometimes to let me see some of that middle of yours." you groaned.

"the amount of times you've told me that you want to run your tongue across my stomach should be studied. i think you're the only person who wants more of it."

you smiled against his cheek and said, "perfect for me." you felt his grip on you tighten more as you rode him. his cock nudged against the softest parts of you and it made your stomach flip.

the bed shifted a little under your movements, but you remained close to him as you felt yourself edge closer to orgasm. you felt it crawl up you like a live wire as you rutted against him. his cock felt so good inside of you.

you two made out once more and you arched your back a little against him. the kisses got quicker and hotter. your heart pounded in your chest. it was all so much and it made it all feel so hot.

he was close to orgasm as well, really putting in the work to match your pace. to keep his lips against yours. you made a good match, a perfect pair.

both on and off the grid.

"fuck, verstappen." you arched your back and let out a loud moan. your nails raked down his biceps as he continued to thrust into you. his pace relentless as he bullied his heavy cock into you.

he panted heavily and replied with something under his breath as he moved. he could feel it all come to a head and with a searing kiss on your lips, he gave it a few more thrusts before he finished inside of you.

you broke the kiss and reached for his face. you gazed into his eyes as you felt your pulse jump once more. you both slowed down to a stop then began to sloppily made out. the heat radiating off your sweaty bodies.

by the end, you remained curled up with max, his strong arm around you. his nose nestled in your hair. your breathing slowly evened out as you felt close to him,"do you think we'll ever spill the beans on this relationship?" you asked with a small yawn.

"my treasure. yes." he laced his fingers with yours, "one day." then settled into a sleep. he held you like his life depended on it. his comfort blanket, his rival, his lover.

-

you woke up the next morning to the sound of your phone frequently going on. you shifted under max's arm and grabbed your phone. through bleary eyes you saw the sheer number of notifications on the device.

you opened your phone and all you needed was a text message from george that said, "if this isn't buried under a million other messages, but please just check instagram."

you knew something was very wrong.

there, like the front page of a newspaper. was a picture of you in max's lap, your hands on his face while he snapped a picture in the low light. but what else was there were pictures of your time together. everything from that time you tried his helmet on to that time you got ice cream and the stuff ended up all over your face. they were cute... domestic.

there was no caption, no tags. it probably wouldn't have gone noticed had he not had millions of followers.

you turned to face him and slapped him on the arm, "what the fuck, verstappen! what is wrong with you?"

he opened his eyes a little and said in a sleepy voice, "what are you talking about?"

you showed the phone in his face, but his eyes were barely open. you hissed, "this, this you idiot! literally people have made fan edits of it already!"

"oh, those were meant to go into a file." he yawned, seeming unfazed. he got his arm around you and his nose in your hair, "i mean, they were going to find out soon enough." he tangled his legs in yours. you were stuck against him. he yawned again, this time a little louder, "after all, i picked out the ring already."

you realized that this was probably all a dream to him. you laid there with your eyes wide open and your phone still going off, your back to max's chest. everyone from fellow drivers to upper management to that one cousin you barely talk to. even people you hadn't seen since high school were trying to get in your dms.

you turned off the phone fully and placed it down on the nightstand. you shifted in max's arms until you were face first in his chest. two questions weighed heavy on your mind.

how were you going to talk your way out of this one, and what did he mean by 'the ring'? <3

[angelsfat3]

ꮩ. [𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌...]

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: @foschiamara

⢀⠀⠀.   ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆  ⭒ ✿ ⭒ ⋆･. ˳ . ⋆ ⠀⢀⠀⠀.   ⋆ ･˳⠀.   ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆  ⭒ ∗

C/w: bottom Mreader, curses, mentions of: spanking, hickeys and bites + EVERYTHING is consensual. ㅤ－ㅤTw: none. (Correct me if I'm wrong.)

Genre: smut drabble, h/canons.

A/N: I no longer have the @ of the person who requested it, but after half a month, here it is. (I did it this way because I didn't have much imagination. 💔)

𝗹𝗲𝗲 𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗇𝗀 ⓘ𝒶𝓈 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗀𝗇𝗂𝖺. ！ 💌

⒈ “You don't know how bad I want to break you, put your head on the mirror and leave your ass red from so many spanks...”

⒉ “My cock would look so good inside you, nothing better than seeing your ass swallow my entire dick.”

When you received the notes, your head was completely blank, your eyes traveled from the small sheet of paper to your boyfriend's face, noticing how he didn't take his eyes off of you. His eyes traveled through every corner of your body, undressing you in his imagination.

He was a boy of word and he wouldn't miss the opportunity to fuck you hard when the cameraman gave them a half hour break (this was for changing outfit and makeup). After all, you were the one who helped him get dressed and also the one who did his makeup.

𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗷𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴 ⓘ𝒶𝓈 𝖾𝗑𝗁𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗆. ！ 📷

Today was the 21st ecological film festival in Seoul and your boyfriend had invited you, nothing nicer than an outdoor date. When you two arrived, he alone guided you to the highest part of the place, with the excuse that both of you would have a better view.

At first everything was very calm, you two watching a comedy movie, laughter here and laughter there. Now you were spread wide open, without pants, with your eyes closed and your lips forming a single line, preventing any moan from coming out.

“Hey, my love... you're missing the best part of the movie.”

One of his hands was busy, or rather, his fingers were busy moving inside you, smoothly caressing your prostate. With the other he caressed your glans with the help of his thumb, exerting firmness with his palm.

“If you want this to end, watch the fucking movie, love.”

𝙨𝙞𝙢 𝗃𝖺𝖾𝗒𝗎𝗇 ⓘ𝒶𝓈 𝖽𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗒𝗉𝗁𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺. ！ 🎭

"You're crying? Aww, poor thing. Keep doing it."

His hands were buried on your waist as he continued to hit every sweet spot inside you with his veiny cock, his pace increasing the more you cried and begged him to give you a break.

Although Jake used to (almost) always be a very energetic, sweet and tender boy, he was also someone who, just by seeing you cry because of the way he played with your body, could feel his cock getting even harder, causing bearable pain throughout his phallus.

He loved fucking you in the missionary position, as it allowed him to get close to your face, lick your tears and leave marks everywhere possible, inflicting pain (on purpose) every time he sucked on your skin.

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗻 ⓘ𝒶𝓈 𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗑𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗀𝗇𝗂𝖺. ！ 🩸

All your early mornings always started the same way, a couple of wet kisses that threatened your neck, with tickles that little by little lifted you up. You avoided at all costs that he could continue advancing, so you tried to move slightly, but everything was in vain. His hands always ended up surrounding you.

“Come on... a little fun won't hurt, plus I'm kind of stressed. Don’t you want to help me, baby?”

A sneaky smile always formed on his face when he saw how your chest swelled quickly every time he moved his hand to your thighs and how quickly he placed himself on top of you, continuing with the initial plan, the kisses that eventually led to bites.

Over time, the entire room was drowned out by your moans, which were generated by the bites that were mostly always on your shoulders, belly and neck. Your vampi-boy's fangs were the cause of the pain, but it was compensated by the blowjob he was giving you.

메모 ! 📌ㅤ⸻ㅤ I FINALLY HAD INSPIRATION (it took me half a month). I really hope you liked this, although English is not my native language, I do my best.

ㅤㅤ아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to ㅤㅤㅤ leave me any requests! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>

[scoutswritingcorner]

More Papa Headcanons!

PLATONIC Papa!Alastor & GN!Child!Reader

Angst Flavored~

First Part

TW: ANGST- Just a teeny tiny bit. For the soul. Oh and Susan is mentioned.

A/N: Enjoy~

I usually leave this part up to you guys, the readers of my ramblings, but what if you were born out of wedlock? You are technically Alastor’s bastard child. Especially during that time period? That was greatly frowned upon and you never knew who your mother was! But despite all of that, Alastor and his Mom adored you. (Don’t get me wrong she probably chewed his ass out for it but she adored you.) 

Now, as you grew older people started saying it to your face, even kids at your school. But everytime you brought it up to Alastor he got angry, not at you, so he teaches you how to defend yourself and makes sure that you know to never start a fight. 

But once in hell, the name still sticks. Susan once overheard Alastor and Rosie’s conversation about it and called you that to your face. (Mean ass old woman right there.) And to say you were upset was an understatement, you knew better than to get into adult’s business but you just ran to your Papa sobbing cause you had thought you escaped that treatment. Despite being in Hell. You’re just clinging to his pants as you try your darndest not to cry but gosh the words keep echoing, both Rosie and Alastor are immediately worried about you. Cause you never cry or cause too much trouble!

Once they hear what Susan said? Rosie has to keep Alastor from flipping his lid. You stay by his side the rest of the day too scared to go play with the other kids in Cannibal Town. It shouldn’t bother you too much but you’ve been called that your entire few years of living and now it’s followed you down to Hell? What if the others start doing such a thing? 

Not to worry, Auntie Rosie shuts the whole thing down if she even catches a whiff of it. 

NOW ONTO NICER THINGS-

Full credit to @aceblaze01 for the idea of Vox being in Child!Reader’s afterlife! Especially when he and Alastor were hanging out(idk if I should call them partners). He was like an odd Uncle to you! Also 100% would let you watch kids cartoons on his screen, but you were so confused by it that you stood there staring at him before finally getting comfortable to sit down and watch those weird picture shows your papa talked about. He would totally put on Disney films for you. 

You watched Bambi once and ended up crying. He had to hold you and calm you down before Alastor was alerted. After that he stuck with everything else but Bambi. 

You sometimes go with Alastor to Overlord meetings and sit next to him drawing, not paying any mind to what’s going on either. You mostly draw your Papa and Auntie Rosie but you’ve started to draw Vox and that man cries when you hand him the drawings of him with very shaky handwriting and misspelled words. He loves it and keeps it hung up on his wall framed and everything. You gave a drawing to a lot of the nicer Overlords as a thank you for letting you join with your Papa. You gave one to Zestial, Carmilla and many of the unnamed ones that didn’t look too scary..you gave those to your Papa so he can give it to them. 

Even after all those years and Alastor’s falling out with Vox as a whole, he kept your drawings still safely framed. He doesn’t have the heart to get rid of them. Valentino said one bad thing about them and got the shock of his afterlife. That’s the last time he brought it up. He still checks up on you, makes sure you're alright. Even though he can’t physically be next to you cause Alastor would lose his fucking shit, he makes sure he has people check up on you. 

Vox has killed people who even thought of putting a hit out on you before Alastor ever caught wind about it. He’s not a man to play around with when it comes to you- his little niece/nephew/nibling (gender neutral term for niece/nephew).

During exterminations? Alastor stays with you the whole time. He doesn’t need anything hurting you. He keeps you in his room with books and anything else you want to bring. When you're in the hotel and extermination is around the corner, while the hotel is relatively safe. He still makes sure you stay far away from any doors leading to the outside. 

Oh boy, you are the only one able to sit in his tower with him while he works! He has a chair designated for you and will answer any and all questions about his work (even if they do get silly and repetitive). You’ll fall asleep sometimes when he’s on air and he doesn’t miss a beat wrapping his jacket around you as he continues to talk.

Taglist: @littledolly2345, @aboyscriminalrecord

[another-lost-mc]

diff anon than the og perv mc and levi anon but id like to build off it: mc purposely setting themselves up for easy panty shots and of course levi cant resist snapping the pic. then one day mc bends over in front of levi in their skirt and they arent wearing underwear and levi short circuits

a/n: I must be in a mood 'cause I ran off with that idea.

levi x gn!reader | nsfw | mdni | 1.2k words

cw: reader in various types of clothing (skirt, panties, sleep/loungewear). flashing, taking dirty pics/videos (with consent but they're both pretending otherwise). mentions of masturbation, cum marking, voyeuristic behaviour (both).

Neither of you are very subtle about what's going on when Levi invites you to hang out in his room. He fidgets with his D.D.D. nervously and glances at you from the corner of his eye. He wants to be ready in case he gets lucky with another show you accidentally (to his knowledge) put on for him.

You have no reason to be wearing skirts that short, and you should know better than to bend over with or without anything else underneath. It's too tempting to resist though. You know he likes it, and he might pretend to look away while your eyes are on him, but he drops the ruse as soon as you look elsewhere.

Even if the item you drop ends up at his feet, he doesn't pick it up for you. He knows you're going to slide off the sofa and bend over directly in front of him to get it yourself, even if you could reach it from where you're sitting.

(You used to stay sitting at first so you had an excuse to lean into his body and press your chest against him, but that got boring after a while - it's too hard to feel his cock through those thick pants he wears.)

For some reason, you're so clumsy when you wear those skimpy little outfits for him. He can't see the grin spreading across your face while he fumbles with his D.D.D. behind you. Sometimes he loses his grip on it with those sweaty fingers of his, but you can be patient. You give him all the time in the world he needs to get his camera app open and ready; you take forever to pick up whatever it was you bent over to reach. It's almost like you have butterfingers too. Oops! You can't seem to get a good grip on it either.

What a shame.

Besides, you'd hate to cut this little show of yours too short. How else will he get a good photo if you're moving around too much? That would leave your thighs and the swell of your ass far too blurry for him to appreciate later, and you wouldn't want that. There should be absolutely no doubt in his mind whose panty shots he's jerking off to later that night.

When you bend over in front of him, you can't help but wiggle your hips a little bit, as if you're trying to entice him to chase after you like a toy. It's frustrating that he's so content to look (and photograph and film) but not touch. Eventually you stand upright and turn around, pretending to tug down that wretched skirt of yours that just won't stay in place. You don't mention the pillow that's now laid across his lap and hiding his erection from view. His blown-black pupils and sharp, panted breaths are proof that he enjoyed himself.

Levi's still hard by the time you leave his room and sometimes he leans against the door in an urgent rush to touch himself. He comes with his D.D.D. in one hand and his cock in the other while he imagines what your bare ass would look like covered in his pearly-white release. It would look nicer than the way it looks on his fingers, he thinks. Fucking you once or twice wouldn't be enough and he has so much he wants to give. He wants to drain his balls inside you and all over you. If he fucks you from behind, he'll pull out and paint your skin with his cum at least once. It would be nice and warm and sticky, oozing between your cheeks and onto the little puckered rim between them.

A few more days of this little game might be the push he needs to indulge in the sweet treat you purposefully dangle in front of him.

Or maybe you're not the skirt-wearing type at all. It's a good thing loungewear can be just as teasing in its own ways.

There's a reason you keep all your threadbare shirts and sleep shorts kicking around when most people would've trashed them by now. The sleeveless shirt you wear to bed is practically see-through and it's so obvious when your nipples harden as your body adjusts to the cool temperature of his bedroom.

Your sleep shorts hang deliciously low on your hips, or perhaps they're a bit too tight. You lay on your belly and watch TV on the floor while Levi stares at you from the sofa; the thin material tightens when you squirm around and get comfy. He can tell by the way the material rides up your thighs and wedges between your legs that you're not wearing anything underneath them. It would be easy to pin you down and squeeze the soft, doughy flesh you're more than happy to put on display for him. He palms his cock through his pants when his mind wanders from whatever movie he's pretending to watch, and you pretend you can't see his reflection on the TV while he does it.

Late-night visits to Levi's room are always fun too. It requires a little pre-planning and a tiny lie, but it works flawlessly every time. When you show up at his door in the middle of the night, claiming you left something in his room by accident, he steps aside without protest. Your housecoat is tied loosely around your waist and he knows that's all you're wearing. The fabric swishes playfully around your legs when you walk - it's such a fucking tease. You flash him with glimpses of your bare legs and thighs, and if he's lucky, a little bit more too.

Sometimes he catches a whiff of something delicious in the air as you walk past him; you smell musky and sensual. He can only imagine what you were doing before you came to see him. The image of you laying naked between your sheets, with nothing but your hand and modest collection of toys to keep you company, flickers across his mind. His voice cracks when he wishes you goodnight; his throat is unbearably dry all of a sudden.

It occurs to him later that you probably didn't even wash your hands before you came to see him, did you?

(Of course you didn't. How else would you leave little traces of yourself behind for him to sniff out and taste later?)

With your task complete, you leave his room and wonder how long you'll have to wait for him to follow you down those creaky steps. You're not as sensitive now; you can go another round or two if you know he's listening.

As it turns out, he's not that patient and you don't have to wait very long at all. Before Levi spits in his hand and strokes his cock with his ear pressed against your door, losing himself quickly to the building heat in his guts, he reminds himself to come back and smell your sheets tomorrow if you won't be home to catch him.

read more: pervy!mc x pervy!levi (part one) | leviathan masterlist

[lissomelace]

Ok, I am admittedly kind of obsessed with this right now.

Another embroidered heraldry attempt! This one is different only in the sense that it was not actively created by Tolkien; it's one of Daniel Falconer's elvish heraldry designs based on Tolkien's that were potentially going to be used on the armor in the Fellowship end-of-the-second-age war with Sauron battle scene:

(Photographs come from The Art of The Fellowship of the Ring by Gary Russell, page 129)

It's explained that Gil-Galad's is based on Tolkien's designs for Gil-Galad's heraldry, and Elrond's and Galadriel's are based on those of their respective fathers.

(One could argue that this is not canonical, because neither of Luthien's sigils look anything like either Thingol's or Melian's--not even in color palette--but I really like the concept anyway. And there are sort of similar elements in Finwe's and his sons, even if it's not as clear as these.)

I like these a lot, and they do feel very consistent among themselves and like a development/variant of Tolkien's originals.

(Also, I will admit to being a little disappointed that there is no official heraldry for Elrond who is definitely my favorite character, along with Finrod)

...can I just say, Galadriel's looks SO MUCH EASIER and I will definitely be doing that one soon.

So here are my attempts:

I chose to both do the whole thing and to isolate the lozenge, since that's how all of Tolkien's designs are.

(I also do really love the elements of Earendil's, which my first attempt for can be found here. And the twining branches look so much like the Imladris architecture in the films, and also I feel like it really goes well with Elrond's interconnected nature with...well, just about everyone. I really love it even though that element was SUCH A NIGHTMARE.)

The circular one was my first attempt, and the second one looks much nicer because I cut all of the thread jumps in the crossover line bits as it was going. The blue field needs a bit of correction on both, but I'm pleased with this attempt. I also may attempt them in greyscale (the drawing isn't this blue after all, but I'm limited in my thread options at the moment). And I have some shinier rayon golds, so I may make an attempt at getting the gold parts more golden without them getting too gaudy.

Unfortunately, I can't do easy gradients with the level of software I currently have, but I'll definitely try this again if I ever get something more advanced.

[seventeenreasonswhy]

Same Team! A YJH Office Romance Pt. 6

Idol!Jeonghan x ProductionStaff!Reader

You’re serious about your job, but not as serious as Yoon Jeonghan is about flirting.

~3k words

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Series Content: slooowwwwww burn, fluff! but with tension!, cute flirting!, will-they-won’t-they vibes!, did I mention tension!?, some alcohol consumption, appearances by all of the members, reader is shy and gets flustered easily!, jeonghan is jeonghan-ing!

My Masterlist

Author’s Note: The plot thickens!! Thank you for everyone who has read this far! I can’t stop thinking about these two! I just love a mischievous king and a buttoned-up queen! This part is kinda long, but we get a confession!!! The tension is palpable!! Thank you so much for reading!! Mentions of S.Coups and Dino in this part. (Also, sorry for portraying Dino as a lowkey alcoholic, I know he does other things besides drink! Lol).

Taglist: @yeoberryx @clownprincehoeshi @soffiyuhh  @wonwoos-wineparty @hamji-hae @junniesoleilkth (let me know if you want to be added!)

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

You weren’t exactly avoiding Yoon Jeonghan... but you weren’t not avoiding him.

Ever since he’d given you a ride home, you would jump at any tasks that required you to go somewhere far away from him—on errands for other members, early subunit shoots that lasted most of the day with a team he wasn’t on, staying late to break down equipment... anything that made you too busy to stop and give him the chance to talk with you again.

There was no denying it, you had a full-blown crush on Yoon Jeonghan. And you were doing everything in your power to make it disappear.

I feel like a teenager... you thought as you sat at your desk, searching for food options in the area of an upcoming GoSe shoot—the crew and the members were going to be there all day and you had been tasked with finding lunch options.

Paris Fashion Week was only a little over a month away, and you couldn’t get the image of Jeonghan leaning forward against his steering wheel and asking you to hang out again... Guilt suddenly rushing through you at how you’d been avoiding him...

You replayed that whole night pretty often in your head, actually. The moment he invited you out with him and Joshua and Dino, the way he draped his arm so casually against the back of your chair, the way he looked driving you home, him saying that you seemed trustworthy... You would catch yourself spacing out, rerunning the moments play-by-play in your head, only to come crashing back down to reality.

“What are you spacing out about?” Jiyeon’s voice came from behind you. She had been a little nicer to you since Jeonghan called her out that one time. But she was still a pain to deal with.

“Nothing,” you said quickly.

“Well, they’re asking for you downstairs.”

“Who is?”

“Dino wants you to film a challenge of him and Seungcheol,” she said with a noticeable roll of her eyes.

Oh, good. You were relieved that Jeonghan wasn’t involved. You had been behaving so awkwardly around him. When you couldn’t avoid him, he always greeted you. You either bowed, even though he’d made it clear you didn’t need to, or you just completely froze. You were so embarrassed—you had been working together for months! Also, nothing had happened between you two!! These were things you yelled inside your own head, but it was pointless. Every time he walked through the door, it was like the floor had disappeared and you were floating through space, totally unaware of how to behave or what to say to him.

You knew that you weren’t like this around the other members—if anything, you’d gotten more comfortable around them. You’d even gone to drinks with Mingyu, Dino, and Minghao a couple of weeks ago—your second time spending casual time outside of work with the members. It had been nothing like the time you went out with Jeonghan. You’d felt relaxed enough to get tipsy and ended up having a fun time. You weren’t preoccupied with how you were coming off or whether you were saying the wrong thing around most of the members anymore. You’d even started drunkenly arguing with Minghao in Chinese, which Dino had embarrassingly caught on video.

Deep down, you knew you were being obvious and idiotic about this stupid, dead-end crush. You were both adults! And you worked together! You could be friends!! Why was this so difficult!?

The lines of text in your contract kept flashing before your eyes, despite how much you told yourself this was going nowhere.

Romantic relationships between employees are strictly prohibited and will result in the immediate termination of your position.

You tried to repeat this to yourself like a mantra until you realized that you were being completely delusional. Jeonghan has never said that he wanted to form a romantic relationship with you. You just got drinks the one time and got a ride home with him. He was being nice for your birthday, that’s all.

These were the thoughts rushing around in your head when Jiyeon snapped her fingers in front of your face.

“God, wake up! Did you not hear me? Dino asked specifically for you for some reason, so hurry down there!” she said, annoyed.

“Sorry!” You said frantically as you rushed downstairs. Jiyeon was being annoying, but you knew she was right: you were here because it was your job. You needed to stop spacing out and focus on what you were paid to focus on: helping the members with their content.

“Nunaaaa!” Dino said as soon as you entered the practice room. He and Seungcheol were going to do a cutesy challenge together. A favorite fan combo: the youngest and the oldest.

“Dinoooo,” you said in a silly voice. You and Dino had become friends at this point, which made you feel so relieved. He was like your cute little brother who came to you for advice, not to mention for help with his English and his dance challenges. You turned to see Seungcheol sitting against the wall, looking at his phone. He looked up and smiled at you. Seungcheol was easy to talk to. He was committed to being professional, which you appreciated, and you’d gotten to know him a bit more than some of the other members since he often spoke with the staff and was more involved in some of the content and scheduling. He really acted like a leader, on and off camera. You bowed slightly at him.

And then you saw someone sitting not too far from him—a designer bucket hat covered most of his face, but you would recognize those lips, that hair, that frame... you would recognize Yoon Jeonghan anywhere.

“Ah, hello,” you said, switching to a more formal voice and bowing.

“Y/N-nuna, why are you getting all formal with me!? Just say hi!” Jeonghan jokingly chided you and you felt like your chest was going to explode.

“Sorry,” you said, still using the formal language, “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, he won’t leave me alone about getting something to eat,” Seungcheol said, standing and putting his phone away.

“I’m hungry!” Jeonghan whined in a cute voice. God, you both loved and hated it when he did that. He was too good at being playful—he was able to get almost anything he wanted out of the staff, you included of course.

“I have to go to the gym first!” Seungcheol whined back. “Let’s get this over with.” He turned back to you, and you took out one of the many phones that the staff shared for this kind of thing. If the members kept everything they filmed on their own phones, they’d be overheating so much they wouldn’t be able to communicate when needed. So there were a handful of phones that were used for challenges and other random stuff, most of them only had social media apps installed. 

“I’m just here to watch,” Jeonghan said, and he went back to leaning against the far wall of the studio.

You looked at him, and he lifted his head slightly to reveal a devilish grin underneath his bucket hat. He was looking right at you.

How am I supposed to keep my hands steady to film this challenge while you’re here?? You thought desperately.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” you said quietly. The challenge was an easy one, it only took a few takes—mostly because Seungcheol kept cringing at himself, which made Dino and you laugh, and then made Jeonghan laugh. You felt the tension start to mercifully dissolve.

“Let’s go eat!” Jeonghan said as soon as you decided on a video that would work. “Nuna come with us!” He looked at you so decisively that it took you a second to understand.

“Ah, yes,” Seungcheol said, giving you an unmistakable expression of relief, “you take him! I have to go work out first.” What is he, our shared toddler? You thought, even if you were already starting to get excited and nervous at the thought of eating with Jeonghan.

“I want to come!” Dino said. Okay, probably for the best, you thought. But some small part of you was... disappointed? This is getting out of hand.

“I can’t!” you said reflexively, your heartbeat in a frenzy. Your face had flushed as soon as you saw him, but you could feel it growing a deeper and deeper shade of red.

“What do you mean, ‘you can’t?’” Dino asked.

“That’s right,” Jeonghan said, “I thought nuna liked hanging out with us.” He was looking right at you again, standing now as Dino and Seungcheol gathered their things.

“I can give you a ride home again,” Jeonghan’s voice was lower, and more direct. You looked at him, and realized how close he was... He was looking at you so expectantly, one corner of his mouth turned up into the sexiest smirk you’d ever seen.

Jesus.

“Okay, let’s go,” you said, finally relenting. “But I’m not drinking!”

“Ugh, no fun,” Dino said as he walked ahead of you, leaving you and Jeonghan trailing behind.

“You don’t have to drink,” Jeonghan said, clapping you on the shoulder. You practically jumped at the sudden touch, and you swore you could see Jeonghan laughing to himself out of the corner of your eye. “I’m just glad you’re not ignoring me anymore.”

Your head snapped toward him at his words, purred out in a low voice right next to you.

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” you said futilely.

“You’re such a bad liar,” Jeonghan chuckled at you, his smirk still glued to his face as his dark eyes roved over you. “It’s so cute nuna.”

This was a bad idea, you thought. Your nerves couldn’t handle going out to dinner with Yoon Jeonghan.

He smiled beside you, his own chest thrumming quietly with relief.

***

The place was fashioned in the style of a Japanese izakaya, tucked away on a side street, on the basement level of a narrow building. There was almost no one there. You wondered how the members knew which places would be quiet and deserted. It must be knowledge that grew over time when you’re famous. It was probably second nature for them.

“Let’s drink beer!” Dino said excitedly, waving the bartender over as you sat between him and Jeonghan at the sleek but cozy dark wood bar. The bar stools were crammed together in the small space, and you felt your leg almost touching Jeonghan’s.

Once again, you wondered how you ended up here. How did you end up getting invited out like this? Why had Jeonghan been looking at you so much? Why had he clapped you on the shoulder?

You were deep in your thoughts, pretending to look at the menu, when you felt Jeonghan’s thigh press gently against yours. Your head jerked in his direction by reflex, but he was just smirking to himself and pretending to look at the menu. You tried to pull your thigh away, but he kept pressing his leg further toward you.

You let out a nervous laugh involuntarily.

“What?” Dino said, having completely missed your little vying-for-territory exchange.

“Nothing,” you said, your heart hammering out of control.

“Whoa, you’re already red nuna,” Dino said, “we’re not even drinking yet.”

“I overheat easily,” you said, trying to cool off your cheeks with the back of your hand. Jeonghan was leaning on the bar now, giving his order to the bartender.

“Two of these,” he said, pointing to the menu, “one for her and one for me.” You could only stare at him.

You may have been inexperienced in the romance department, but you weren’t an idiot. He was definitely flirting, and it was driving you insane.

You tried to maintain your composure, focusing mainly on having a conversation with Dino. But occasionally, you would feel Jeonghan’s thigh pressing against yours, making you stutter or blush and snap your gaze in his direction—only to be met with his typical smirk. You nervously downed more and more beer, Dino at least two glasses ahead of you.

“I have to piss,” he said suddenly, his face beet red.

“Uh oh,” Jeonghan said, “Dino’s drunk.”

“I’m not drunk!” Dino said, “you’re drunk...” and he staggered off toward the bathroom.

“Should we—” you started to get up to follow Dino, mostly because you didn’t want to be left alone with Jeonghan, but also because he really did seem wasted.

“He’s fine,” Jeonghan’s hand closed around your forearm, gently pushing you back down into your seat. You were so close to him that you could smell his perfume. He was looking right at you—staring at your face again. You felt yourself start to panic and looked away.

“Nuna’s so pretty,” Jeonghan said softly, and you turned to stare at him, incredulous.

“Stop making fun of me,” you said, your heartbeat skyrocketing to dangerous levels.

“I’m not!” his eyes got wider, and he straightened up a little in his barstool.

“Then what are you doing?” you asked, your tone coming out more bristled than you meant it to. Jeonghan paused, his face falling ever so slightly.

“Ah, nuna do you hate me?” He was using a playful tone, but you weren’t sure if he was asking as a joke or not.

“No!” you said firmly, now feeling panicked for an entirely different reason, “not at all!”

“Then why were you ignoring me?”

Is he drunk? You wondered as you watched his face fall into a full-blown pout. He was leaning kind of close to you... Did I hurt his feelings? You couldn’t help but wonder. He was playing idly with the edge of a napkin, glancing in your direction... and reality started to settle in your chest.

Holy shit, he’s not kidding. You thought.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little excited by this. You tried to calm your thoughts, already careening out of control. Was he interested in you? Was he messing around? Did he do this with new staff? It’s not like he got a lot of opportunities to flirt or even talk to women outside of the staff or other people in the industry... Was he just being playful? Your mind was so muddled with all of the possibilities, overwhelmed by any one of them... but you did your best to breath steadily, finally facing him and gazing directly into his beautiful, dark eyes.

“Yoon Jeonghan-shi.”

You had never used such a straightforward tone with him, and he stopped playing with the edge of his napkin—staring at you instead, stock still. His gaze was expectant, and you held it for a long time. You’d said his name so seriously, but now you weren’t sure how to ask what you wanted to ask...

“I’m bored!!” Dino came crashing back to where you were sitting, throwing one arm around Jeonghan’s shoulders.

Your timing!! Dino!!! You couldn’t help but scream inside. Jeonghan looked visibly annoyed, which you hadn’t seen before.

“Ya~!” He said in a raised voice, and Dino stood up straighter. He looked at Jeonghan, then at you, then back at Jeonghan.

“What’s going on here?” he asked. Even wasted, he could’ve cut the tension between the two of you with a knife.

“Nothing,” Jeonghan said before you could interject, “nuna and I were just chatting.” He looked at you seriously, and you understood that you should keep... whatever that was between the two of you.

“You both look like someone died, snap out of it!” Dino yelled, “let’s go to karaoke!”

“Let’s get you a car home,” Jeonghan said, pulling out his phone.

“I’m fine!” Dino insisted, but he was literally hiccupping like a cartoon. After some bickering, Jeonghan convinced him to go home—almost actually pushing him into the car.

The two of you were left standing on the deserted street, the warm glow of the izakaya’s lights hitting your backs. Jeonghan looked away from you, but you could tell the vibe had shifted. You were both a little tipsy...

“I’m sorr—”

“Nuna—”

Just as you were about to apologize for what happened inside, Jeonghan turned to you and spoke in a deeper, softer voice than you usually heard from him. You froze, licking your lips out of nervousness and feeling hesitant to continue.

“Nuna,” Jeonghan said again, then stopped. He exhaled sharply from his nose and looked across the street. Whatever it was that he wanted to say was not coming easily to him, which made your heartrate accelerate at an alarming pace.

“...Yes?” you asked, feeling awkward and exhilarated at the same time.

You stood there, until Jeonghan turned directly to you—staring right into your eyes.

 “I think you’re beautiful.”

All you could do was stare at him in stunned silence.

“I think lots of things about you, actually. I want to talk to you. I want to spend more time with you. I think about you when we’re not at work. I wonder what you’re doing, who you’re with, what your house is like, what you do for fun... I try to find you when we are working. I wonder what you think of me. I get sad and frustrated when you avoid me.”

He was stepping closer and closer to you, as this stream of words that you could barely understand or believe came pouring out, all while he held your gaze.

“I don’t think I can say that I have feelings for you, but I am very interested in seeing you.”

He looked at you, the air between you now full of anticipation. You didn’t know what to say, or even what facial expression you might be making... This was... was this really happening?

“Is this really happening?” you barely whispered.

Jeonghan smirked, and your heart felt completely overcome.

“Jeonghan-shi...” you said slowly, “... I'm...” But the words couldn't come. Your heart was threatening to burst out of your chest, and your legs were threatening to give out...

"I'm sorry—"

[perlelune]

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | Epilogue

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

"Ethan, you’re tearing me apart. Can you go s-slower, please?" you whimper as Ethan bounces you on his cock, his fingers digging possessive dents into your hips. New bruises have already bloomed over the ones from last time just this morning. It’s one of the things you had no choice but to get used to…the constellation of bruises, scratch marks and love bites Ethan is fond of scattering all over your flesh. 

He can’t let a single day go by without leaving evidence that you're his somewhere on your body. 

"Can you blame me when you feel so fucking good, princess?" Ethan grunts, resting his head in the valley between your bare breasts. His dick twitches inside you and you gasp, your slick walls reflexively spasming around him. Your nails burrow in the taut muscles of his back, an explosion of both pain and pleasure rushing through your core, terrifyingly indistinguishable from one another.

The pornographic echo of your wet skin slapping against Ethan’s fills the room, his throaty moans mingling with your helpless squeals. 

He squeezes your hips and slams you harder onto his length. 

Your chest clenches as you feel him graze your sensitive spots. 

Ethan’s sweat-dotted forehead creases. 

"Shit…I’m gonna come," he rasps, his damp curls brushing your collarbone.

Dread fills the pit of your stomach. 

"Not inside Ethan, please."

Despite your desperate plea, Ethan hums out a deep sigh and spills his warm seed inside you. Your gut sinks as you feel his spent flood your cunt. There’s so much of it that it leaks past the ring where his length is buried inside you and stains the sheets. 

You bang on his chest, tears welling up in your eyes.

"Ethan!" 

Your mouth shudders.

"You said you wouldn't anymore."

A slanted smirk twists his plump lips at your outraged reaction. 

He cradles your weeping face, thumbs swiping your tears. 

"It's okay. You're on birth control, remember?" 

How could you forget? Ethan all but threatened you to take the pills so he could use your body whenever and wherever he feels like.

Your hesitant, trembling voice trickles out. 

"Yes but…" You squirm beneath his heated stare. "In sex ed they used to say there's always a risk."

"It won't happen," he assures firmly, his large hand traveling down to your hip to keep you impaled on his cock when you try to move away. 

Ethan takes a minute to bask in the sight of himself leaking out of you, the sticky excess trickling along your thighs. His brown eyes darken as he licks his lips. 

Worry tickling your stomach, you let your hand brush over his thick mane of curls. You noticed he's nicer when you play along. Ethan leans into your touch, gripping your wrist to kiss the inside of your palm. 

Chewing your bottom lip, you mumble, "What if…you used a condom."

Ethan snorts. 

"I'm not using a fucking condom." His long fingers trace the swell of your hips, a sigh of pleasure leaving him as your walls flutter around him. Ethan's throat bobs, his voice hoarse with lust as he says, "I want to feel you around me, princess."

"O-Okay."

You deflate. You don't know why you keep trying to reason with Ethan despite the awful truths you've learnt about him. Maybe part of you still hopes the sweet boy you first met is still buried somewhere deep within him, even if he shows you his depraved nature time and time again.

He frames your chin, his hard gaze locking with yours. 

"You're forgetting who’s in charge here, princess. You don't make the rules. I do."

Your blood turns to ice. Swallowing your tears, you nod. 

"Okay, Ethan. I'm sorry I complained."

As soon as you apologize, a bright smile appears on his face. He bends over you and brushes a soft kiss against your lips. 

"It's fine. I forgive you." Ethan’s smile grows as he takes a long look at you. "You're lucky I love you so damn much."

Relief flows through you when he finally exits your core with a groan. It was the third time this morning and you’re beyond sore. 

Exhausted, you climb under the sheets and lie on your side. You tense as Ethan pulls your back into his chest, his chin nuzzling the crook of your neck as he breathes you in. His muscular arms circle your waist and it takes everything in you not to shrink, especially as his soft cock rubs against your ass cheeks. 

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this. But what other way is there? Ethan didn’t exactly give you a choice. He made it clear you could either yield to his every desire or watch everyone you care about fall like flies around you.

You can’t have another death on your conscience. 

Under the pillow, you feel the buzzing of your phone. You grab it and check the text you just received. 

Your heart sinks. 

Somehow, it slipped your mind. Maybe because Ethan monopolizes so much of your time. 

"Who's that?" 

You shrug. 

"It's just Alana."

Your meager hope of him dropping the issue crumbles to dust when he inquires, "So why do you look so sad?"

"It's nothing," you elude, praying your nonchalance will keep him from digging any further.

You’re about to set your phone aside when Ethan swipes it from between your fingers. 

"Ethan!" you cry out.

Retrieving it is impossible, Ethan using the length of his arm to keep it out of your reach. 

A wide, shit-eating grin decorates his mouth as he watches you fail to pry it from him. 

As he reads the text however, the mirth on his face evaporates. His brows crumple.

"Why is Alana asking for your uniform?" he asks, sitting up.

You fiddle with the hem of the sheet. 

"With everything, I forgot to give it back."

Ethan’s frown deepens.

"Give it back? Why? You love being a cheerleader."

"It’s really nothing."

He tilts up your chin when your gaze falls downward.

"Answer me. Why is she asking for it back?"

You shudder. His stern tone allows no room for argument.

You lick your lips and confess with a small voice, "She cut me from the team…" 

Ethan’s jaw ticks, flames of rage burning in his chestnut orbs.

"She did what?" he growls.

Panic fills you. 

You put your hands on his chest, tears adorning your lashes.

"No, Ethan. You promised. No more murders, please." 

Your plea peters out into a sob. 

Ethan flashes you a bright smile, tenderly cupping your cheeks as you sniffle. 

"Sure…anything for you, princess."

Despite his promise you can’t help but feel unsettled, the air growing chillier around you as a strange glint dances in his eyes.

“So it’s a thing now?” Mindy asks for possibly the hundredth time this morning. The mix of shock and disdain oozing off her tone is unwavering every time. 

Ethan’s hold on your waist tightens as he readjusts you on his lap. He insisted for you to sit here despite the vast amount of room on the benches.

His fingers lazily skim over your thigh, right beneath the hem of your shorts.

“Yes, Mindy, it’s a thing, now. We’re a thing now," he says, his lips curling upwards. 

"Yes and according to some of the girls in our dorm, they were a very loud thing this morning…" Tara whispers under her breath. 

Your cheeks heat. 

Awkward stares circulate around the group, all your friends avoiding looking at both you and Ethan for a few seconds. 

Well, all of them except for Mindy. 

She glares daggers at him before swiveling to her brother.

“You’re okay with this?”

You wonder what Chad's thinking from his seat atop the table. 

 He’s been unusually silent for most of the morning, his face impossible to read. Scratching the back of his head, he heaves out a deep sigh.

“I still…don’t really know how I feel about it to be honest.”

Mindy shakes her head, turning to the other end of the bench. 

“Tara?” she asks, desperation for someone to back her up clear on her features.

Tara opens her mouth, shifting on the bench before clearing her throat.

“I’m not the right person to ask, I think.”

Your best friend rolls her eyes. 

“Babe, come on, back me up," she begs Anika. 

“I…" Anika trails off, her eyes bouncing between you and her girlfriend. She reaches across the table, putting her hand on your arm as she asks earnestly, "Uh…Are you happy?”

Mindy’s hand covers Anika’s on your arm. “Blink twice if you need help."

Chad shakes his head, hopping off the table. 

“Mindy, come on." His eyes lock with yours, exasperation painted on his handsome face. “Bean, can you reassure everyone that my roommate isn’t holding you hostage and that this is a fully consensual boyfriend/girlfriend dynamic?”

You swallow thickly. As the seconds stretch into eternity, Ethan’s hand grows heavier on your thigh, his thumb drawing circles into your skin in a quiet threat. 

Chest tight, you remember the words he had you rehearse, trying not to stumble as you repeat them. 

“I love Ethan…"

His deep commanding voice echoes in your head as you speak. 

He’s the nicest and most caring guy I know.

"...And if you guys are really my friends…"

You’ll accept him. 

"And most importantly, you’ll accept us.”

Mindy’s jaw hangs slack at your statement. 

Quinn pipes up cheerfully from the other side of the table. 

“I think they make a super cute couple, don’t you think, guys?" Your stomach knots as she beams at you, mischief gleaming in her emerald eyes. "The hot cheerleader falling for the shy, awkward nerd? Sounds like a great romcom to me.”

Tears tickle the back of your eyes but you suppress them. A romcom? More like a R-rated horror flick full of gore, tragedy and cruel deaths.

Mindy tosses her hands up in the air.

“I need to go throw up somewhere," she says before storming off.

Anika tosses her a sad look, mouthing 'sorry' at you as Mindy leaves. 

If only she knew. 

Mindy doesn’t have a thing to be sorry for.

In fact you’re the one who owes her an apology for ever doubting her.

You wish you could chase after her, tell her how right she was…about everything, how you should have listened, how you should have trusted her.

But it’s too late.

Anika sends you a soft smile, genuine concern swimming in her orbs. 

“You are happy though, right? You deserve it after how rough things have been for you lately."

Your skin sizzles beneath the intensity of Ethan’s gaze. He blows a warm breath on the back of your neck that makes your pulse race. 

You know you can’t falter, or he’ll find a way to make you pay. A deadly way. 

Your smile grows big enough to hurt the corners of your lips. 

“I’ve never been happier. Ethan…Ethan makes me happy.”

~

[kimbap-r0ll]

How Dorm Leaders Hint They Like You

Something cute I thought of recently!

Riddle

The first thing you'll notice is that he's a lot nicer to you than he is to others (less strict, it makes Ace and Deuce confused haha)

He tries to impress you with how much he knows, but also by inviting you to a lot of tea parties so you can spend time with him

Whenever you talk to him, you find that his usual stiff body language melts. He has a hard time maintaining eye-contact, hides his hands behind his back, crosses his arms, stutters a bit too

He has no idea how to deal with these emotions and will often find himself dozing out of class when he sees you across from him for example. His blush whenever you smile at him also is a dead-giveaway

Leona

Unlike Riddle, Leona's meaner. He's the type to tease you more because he likes you and he has no idea what the best way to show this is

If any other student tries to hurt you, he's the first one to step in and tell them to stop. He's a bit protective, though he'll never admit it

If you're in the same Spelldrive team as him, he might want to show off some of his skills haha. If you compliment him, he'll try to smirk and say "yeah of course" but he just awkwardly nods

He's good at hiding his blushes and hiding his emotions behind meaner words. But whenever you treat him with kindness, you see him just look at you with surprised eyes and then a softer look

Azul

Will flaunt himself at you. Tries to impress you with his knowledge in everything possible, it's a bit exhausting haha

He gets a bit jittery around you too. His usual (manipulative) suave self disappears and he pushes his glasses up a lot more often than he does around others

Floyd and Jade know exactly how Azul feels the first few seconds he shows it. They might casually tease him and you, saying to you that someone has a crush on you

He wants to be the perfect boyfriend, the perfect man that will melt your heart, but you end up melting his. His blushing, overall bashfulness yet awkward confidence makes his crush super clear

Kalim

He's not shy at all, will try to spend the most amount of time around you as possible. He literally calls your name from across the hallway and runs towards you

His overall sunshine personality might mask his crush a bit though, but you can see him blushing whenever you look at him with a smile. He also dozes off when you talk to him that you might have to snap him back to reality haha

Jamil also happens to look more stressed during these days. The reason for this is likely because Kalim has been asking him incessantly how to ask you out, will ask you at some point if you have any love interests

Kalim overall is just very sweet, often giving you gifts that you didn't think you needed. But he's still a bit shy, often losing his words when you two are alone

Vil

Emotionally constipated like Leona and Riddle, he tends to be nicer to you. He doesn't call you "potato" and actually uses your name or even "darling" — apparently he just calls people that but you know that's not true

Smiles in your direction a lot, often staring at you from across the classroom. He tries to look his best in front of you and so he might look like he's posing whenever you two catch each others' glances

Epel will ask why Vil acts so nicely around you, the others think he might be plotting something. But when you talk to Vil alone, he's completely at a loss of words. He can't look at you directly, scratching lightly at the sides of his nails, blushing slightly whenever you're close to him

He wants to be flawless, but he's so nervous around you that he has no idea how to act. Will tell you a lot of compliments and offer to watch films together, of course it's just because of the film club (of course it's not)

Idia

Can't even bring a conversation to fruition because he's so shy. He wants to be like all the cool characters he's seen before in anime, but he can't because of his awkwardness

Stares at you the most. He literally forgets about the world around him, a soft smile on his lips and a soft gaze. The teacher might have to yell his name to get him back to the classroom haha

If you approach him, he might run away. It's not that he's scared of you, more like he's scared that he might mess up. If he doesn't, he stutters worse than he usually does and avoids eye contact altogether

Ortho knows his brother the best and can see right through Idia. Also Idia tries to draw you from time to time so there's that. Ortho might ask you how you feel about his older brother, which might give you a hint as to Idia's feelings

Malleus

This fae might be the most fearless, perfect being but when it comes to love he's completely lost. He also just dozes off and it takes Sebek yelling a few times and shaking him to wake him up from daydreaming about waltzing with you in the forest

Will visit you more frequently, asking if you want to go on walks. He's good at keeping eye contact, but he's so much gentler with you than with anyone else. Always asks for your hand

If you talk about something your passionate about for a long time, you might find him happily looking at you, head resting on his hand and just a soft smile.

Lilia tells Malleus to be upfront but Malleus is too nervous. He might stutter if you compliment him for example. He also happens to be protective, so expect him to keep you close to him for no reason whenever you're on walks haha

[therealslimshakespeare]

Dear John | Part 2

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Series Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways. Right? Right.

Warnings: suggestive language, crass vocabulary, the vintage form of sexting -honestly this is mostly fluffy in reply to his more overt letter

Author’s note: after episode four I’ve got feelings and fics for this universe that are far ahead of these establishing pieces. So I’ve gone ahead and tossed this preliminary one out but I may very well skip around and ahead to October next. At least now y’all know: she wrote him back. Hehe. If it’s of interest, I’ll probably end up writing John’s reaction to receiving this response as well as Gale’s response to realizing his friend actually went and sent that awful thing.

Date: Early August, 1943

Dear John, (I’m sorry Major Egan, I just had to)

Thank you for your kind letter of the 18th. It’s been many years since I received so delightful a correspondence or so candid an expression of admiration. And you should know I keep most of the letters the sweet people of this country send me. They’re stacked in quite an orderly fashion in my various garages, kept for the rainy days to peruse and keep the blues away and also so I might try very hard to reply. I don’t take such affection for granted. It’s humbling really, always has been, to be so loved by folks but it’s another level entirely to be singled out by someone as brave and impressive as yourself.

I found your letter to be heartfelt and wonderfully brave and in an effort to be equally transparent, you should know that when I finished it I clutched it to my breast and whispered half a dozen prayers for you. Or as you might say, I held it to my knockers.

That’s an awful word, you must know that Major.

As is “rack”, for that matter, but I’ve a sneaking suspicion that you would make it sound charming as even your blotted paper was electric. How could you dare to praise my film set flapjacks and mention making babies? I’m fizzing just glancing at it. You really must be quite the fella and I’m terribly sad now that our rendezvous, such as you say it was, got cut short. You must reprimand your friend -Buck, is it?- and tell him he did an bad deed that night. There’s nothing I like better than duets and hamburgers, we might’ve been one of the great loves by now if he hadn’t meddled. But don’t be too hard on him, if he’s the sort to take it well, kiss him for me, after you chide him.

But since we are being honest, I must admit, reading your letter, being privy to your thoughts, seeing myself through your eyes as it were - dear man, I feel rather riled. Quite riled, in fact. Why, I haven’t felt riled in a while, not like this. Not like an ordinary girl with an extraordinary boy. Do you know what I mean?

Maybe you don’t.

I mean regular, old fashioned flustered. That’s what you’ve made me. And thank you for that, John. Can I call you Johnny? I wonder if you’re the nickname sort, or if you’re real stern and serious, a real John-John. Not a Johnny at all. But either way, I think you deserve a treat, for being so nice, Major Egan. For reminding me I can feel my pulse somewhere besides my wrists before a show -and for all you’re doing in the war, besides. There seems to be no safer hands to trust this to, you do seem so very fond of them, I am led to believe you’d be protective of them, too.

Enclosed is something for the personal morale, I hope you’ll think of me nightly with it at hand, in fact, I’m so excited about it I’ve taken this ill advised measure to insure you do. I’d very much like a report, do they live up to your expectations? They’re homegrown, after all, I hadn’t much say in them but now I’ve got them, I don’t see why they shouldn’t do their bit to keep you alive. A small sacrifice.

One of those reasons you mentioned, John, you’ve so many of them, more than you know. A million souls over here rooting you on, insisting you make it out the other side.

I’m forefront among them, I’ll be scanning the crowd when I come to Europe -because I will, at your invitation. Perhaps if you send me a picture of your own mug I won’t be looking a fool asking every man in uniform if I remind them of an acorn. Are you going to tell me what on earth that means? I’ve tried to work it out but I always end up with some mathematical conundrum and I just know in my heart of hearts you wouldn’t let me down like that, would you Major? It’s something awfully salacious, isn’t it? Please let it be!

I’m a vain little thing and I can’t deny the way this poor heart of mine is all pitter pattering at the thought of you being so awful while also so nice. It’s a strange blend, and rather like my coke, I do prefer my men mixed.

Best wishes, may you have cloudless skies and fresh coffee to your heart's content. My sources -and I’ve excellent ones, an upside of working the war bond circuit- tell me you’re airforce. I think that’s remarkable and I hope you give that picture some thought. Mine, and yours.

Your vain little friend,

Julia Jean Turner

P.S.-I’m only ever ‘The Lana Tierney ‘ to strangers, and we aren’t strangers now, are we? not if you’re to take my picture to your bunk. i suspect you may have already taken that liberty. who’s to say I did not take similar liberties upon reading certain stirring passages of your letter? Xx 💋

__insert vintage titty pic__

Whew this week was a doozy wasn’t it? Here’s some fluff for those of y’all who needed it, and I can promise angst soon for those who want to stay in the soul shattering mood. Hope you enjoy. Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, let me hear your screams.

Drop a comment to let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my MOTA fics. Xo

Taglist:

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

[anghraine]

thatinsufferableb-st-rd said:

@anghraine so i have read the books multiple times and am an avid fan of the movies. I enjoy both for what they are. I think the main difference is that Peter Jackson was very open about what they chose to cut and why from anything I've ever seen. They even have Sam give a nod to the book readers by saying "by rights we shouldn't even be here". No I'm not happy about what they did with Faramir and Glorfindel got jipped, and I would have lover to have seen Elronds sons but at the end of the day there were acknowledgments of what and why. Rings of Power to me has always come off as hiding from any criticism by using the shield of "well if you don't like it it's because you don't like POCs in it". To which I genuinely could not give a fuck less, like there are so many branches of elves that went different ways so that could make sense within what Tolkein established. But don't hide behind that when your writing is just "Sauron is evil. We know. And we know she knows. But we have to make it seem like she's the only one who Has A Clue so we must all try to shoo her off to make a plotline"

@lesbiansforboromir has already correctly and politely pointed out that you are doing the very thing we were criticizing in that post—intruding on ROP fan discussion to unfavorably contrast the show to the Peter Jackson films, while also applying a degree of scrutiny to ROP that the Jackson films are rarely subject to in a remotely comparable way and could not bear. Frankly, @lesbiansforboromir is nicer and more restrained than I am about this, but you chose to tag me as well, so I'll also respond.

We (lesbiansforboromir and I) were talking about being excited about costuming in S2 of ROP and disliking the fandom meltdowns over ROP's costuming looking (somewhat) different from the films' aesthetic. Since it had already come up in their discussion, I added that I'm not convinced by the anti-ROP contingent framing their seething hatred of the costuming and design as just caring so much about fidelity to Tolkien's vision. I pointed out that Tolkien fandom broadly cares far more about their preferred, film-influenced aesthetics than Tolkien's actual descriptions and gave some specific examples of this.

There's been a lot of talk, for instance, about how the universally long, flowing hair for Elves preferred by the fandom and used in the films is actually totally canon according to Tolkien even if it's rarely mentioned in LOTR proper. This is inaccurate. Galadriel's brother Aegnor is typically depicted in the fandom/film-preferred style rather than per Tolkien's description of his hair as "strong and stiff, rising upon his head like flames" (indeed, in general neither Aegnor nor anyone else is ever depicted this way, and this description rarely shows up in the lists of "no it's about ethics in adaptation" Tolkien hair quotes).

Tolkien repeatedly describes Elvish, peredhel, and Dúnadan women as wearing their hair bound up in braided coiffures with jeweled hair pieces/nets rather than loose and flowing à la the films and the fandom. Nobody cares, any more than they care about Tolkien's description of Arwen's clothing as soft, grey, and noticeably devoid of ornamentation apart from a belt and netted cap (i.e. the opposite of her highly elaborate film costuming and typically loose, unbound, uncovered hair in the films and most illustrations).

Meanwhile, my fave Faramir's hair is nowhere near long enough in the films or most art to mingle with Éowyn's as Tolkien describes. It's usually also depicted as blond, reddish, or brown rather than black as in the book; in Tolkien's LOTR, all described Gondorians have dark or black hair, with the only difference in coloring being that some Gondorians are dark-skinned and some are pale. Again, almost nobody in the fandom cares about this when they're going on about costume design and casting to reflect Tolkien's vision, and male Gondorians are overwhelmingly depicted with short or shoulder-length hair in the films and in Tolkien illustrations.

Popular depictions of Gondor, including the Gondor of the films, very rarely reflect Tolkien's description of Gondor's aesthetic as similar to ancient Egypt, the Byzantine Empire, and the Roman Empire. Film Gondor has, at most, extremely vague allusions to Byzantine architecture amidst the general and deliberate westernization of Gondor's design—as just one example among many, Tolkien's explicitly Egyptian-based design for the royal crown of Gondor is converted to a generically western European-style crown in the films and overwhelmingly in the fandom.

I then pointed out that it's been very noticeable that ROP haters tend to have a powerful double standard wrt fidelity when it comes to the Jackson films. For over 20 years, most film fans have been constitutionally incapable of tolerating even slight criticism of the films without jumping in to defend their greatness and condescendingly explain the most basic elements of adaptation. (Yes, we know film is not the same medium as text, we know changes are part of adaptation to another medium, we all know that, we all know that a word-for-word adaptation would suck and never be made, this is not new information and does not make the PJ films' every choice a good one.) Yet most film LOTR fans who vocally despise ROP display none of the charity towards ROP that they demand for the films (demand even from someone like Christopher Tolkien, a dead man the entire fandom is deeply indebted to, whose dislike of the films still leads to regular attacks on his character from Jackson film stans).

This hypercritical yet hyperdefensive tendency in the fandom is neatly illustrated by the fact that you responded to a conversation about the double standards in evaluations of ROP's costuming vs the films' to go on about how ROP is objectively bad for reasons entirely unrelated to costuming, how you're totally not racist (something nobody was talking about), and to quote you directly, "Like the show was just Bad." Truly, an incisive critique. Meanwhile, your concessions with regard to the Jackson films are mainly about extremely minor and defensible omissions like removing Glorfindel and the sons of Elrond rather than the serious and fundamental problems that lesbiansforboromir and I have with them, or even the ways they do pretty much the exact same things you're lambasting ROP for.

I mean, if we're going to talk about action hero Elves in ROP vs the Jackson films, what about the action hero-ification of Legolas in the films? He was described by Tolkien himself as the Fellowship member who accomplished the least, so super badass battle-skateboarding Legolas hardly represents fidelity to Tolkien's vision. Why should that get a pass while film-stanning ROP haters seethe about ROP!Galadriel being too special, even though Tolkien described her as one of the most special Elves to ever live and specifically as remarkably athletic and insightful?

Meanwhile, film Gimli is reduced to comic relief, the only dwarves taken seriously are conventionally hot ones in The Hobbit films, and Frodo's expressions of strength and fortitude are consistently removed to glorify other characters. Film Gondorians were deliberately designed to seem like useless tin soldiers (which they are in the films, as well as whiter and blonder than Tolkien wrote them) rather than the physically imposing and highly effective fighting force of the book. ROP imagining Elvish rituals upon approaching Valinor that aren't based in Tolkien canon but don't directly conflict with it is absolutely trivial compared to the films' handling of Denethor and Faramir.

The point is not that you, personally, are not allowed to like the films or dislike ROP despite all this. Many people do love the films, including most of my followers. They do have their strengths, though they are extremely racist and few film fans will acknowledge this without soft-pedaling it in some way (esp, since you brought it up, given the context of the truly unhinged degree of racism that has accompanied much of the broader discourse around ROP).

The point is that film fans who hate ROP are constantly showing up in our conversations to be "well actually ROP is just objectively bad, unlike the films, because the show has failings that are also in the films but it's totally different there because of the contents of Peter Jackson's soul" or whatever. The point is the absolutely glaring and obnoxiously hypocritical double standard of defensiveness about the films and obsessive nitpicking of ROP that leads to ROP haters continually going on rants to ROP fans that are unwelcome, uninvited, and usually (as in this case) irrelevant to what was even being discussed.

[2stepadmiral]

So every year or two, I go through a period of reconnecting with my high school Trekkie interests, rewatching some Star Trek clips, episodes, and movies, and during this particular period, I have to voice my main criticism of the reboot films: namely, the treatment of the Enterprise.

To be clear, I think the reboot Enterprise had a nice redesign. She looked very clean and futuristic while capturing the original design in broad strokes. The lens glare is certainly annoying, and it doesn’t have the same heart and retro feel as the original, but I feel they generally did a fairly decent job with the design. I’m talking about how she is treated throughout the films, namely, how she’s treated effectively like just another ship.

In the original series, the Enterprise has a certain heart coming across almost like a character in of herself. You get a clear feel from the characters that they consider the enterprise almost to be home, and Kirk and Scotty in particular see her almost like an actual woman, one who they cherish and will protect at all costs. This sentiment is magnified in the first three movies, particularly in the motion picture and in the search for Spock. When Kirk first sees the refit Enterprise, you can see how much he loves the ship, and when the Enterprise is plunging to her final resting place, the mourning on all of their faces, especially Kirk, makes this moment particularly powerful and truly hammer home that the Enterprise was a character in and of herself. The original Enterprise felt like a character fans had grown up with, and her destruction felt almost like the loss of an old friend. And at the end of the voyage home, when the crew has that last-minute surprise reveal of the Enterprise-A, the triumph and homecoming feeling is so clear that even the audience shares the sentiment, almost as if the character has been reborn.

The enterprise in the reboots was never portrayed this way. She was treated like just a ship, one that might’ve been nicer and fancier and more advanced than the others, but not really all that special beyond that. In the first movie, that’s acceptable, as the focus is on bringing together the crew and getting them where they need to be for the start of their journeys. The second one focuses more on the captaincy, and what it means to really earn that seat, so it’s excusable that this one focused more on Kirk and how seriously he took his responsibilities, though they could’ve put more emphasis on the ship as part of that arc. Yes, the ship almost crashing was an emotional scene, but that had everything to do with the characters aboard and nothing to do with the ship beyond it being the place where the characters were and it’s damage being the reason that they were about to die.

And then in the third one, they just blow up the ship in the first 30 minutes and try to portray it with the same sentimental weight as the destruction of the Enterprise in the search for Spock. Which would’ve been fine, if it weren’t for the fact that they spent the last two movies treating the enterprise like just a thing, just another tool in the characters belt. She had no heart, no soul, no feeling that she was a home, or that she was the thing that brought the crew together, and kept them together, the thing that made them a family. She was basically just a big car, there to get them from point A to point B and occasionally shoot at some bad guys, and then, we’re supposed to feel devastated when she goes down for the final time.

The reveal of a reboot version of the Enterprise A was a nice surprise, but it lacked the emotional payoff of the original version, largely because of how ordinary the first Enterprise had been in this timeline. You can’t really celebrate the revival of a lost character when the character was never really there to begin with. They might as well have put the crew on an entirely new ship, like maybe a rebooted version of the Excelsior, and it would’ve had the same basic impact.

My point is that classic trek, as well as the next generation and DS9, did an excellent job of portraying the dynamic between captain and ship to the point where the ship felt almost like a real character. And that worked really well. It made the crash of the Enterprise D in generations a shocking scene, and it made her surprise return in season 3 of Picard a heartfelt and deeply nostalgic scene (Even if I wanted the Enterprise E, sorry but she’s my favorite). It made the loss of the Defiant in season seven of DS9 a powerful and emotional moment. I haven’t watched a lot of Voyager, so I can’t comment on that, but I can say with decent confidence that they couldn’t have done worse than they did in the reboots.