#and then they hit him with fucking……. returning his memories too little too late and his breakdown at being overwhelmed with not only the

[otaku553]

Hello! I saw your recent art of sabo, and in the tags you mentioned the big 3 of Shounen. I know it’s One piece and Naruto, but what’s the third? How come you like the character? Lovely artwork, it’s candy for the soul!! Thank you •u•

Ah thank you!!! The big three of shonen (for I guess the previous generation?) are Naruto, One Piece, and Bleach. Naruto and Bleach have already ended but it seems like One Piece is still going quite strong, despite the new generation of shonen anime (including Hero Aca, Demon Slayer, and the third spot is still debated! Probably JJK is my guess though that falls into its own sub genre of shonen dark fantasy I suppose)

Here are my favs! I’ll put the reasons why I like them in the read more because it’s quite long :)

Despite watching Naruto first I could never actually finish it because it was so long so I kind of just osmosed the later parts of shippuden through fanfics and other such media ^^; I think it’s pretty difficult to pick a definitive fav for Naruto because I feel like it tends to fumble a bit of its character writing? I think if I had to pick one maybe young Kakashi but still kind of eh. Maybe I just didn’t watch far enough to get attached

As for Bleach, I picked it up years ago around middle school and then dropped it after the first hundred episodes or so because filler got boring for younger me but then I picked it up again in high school and managed to at least get past aizen! And then I dropped it there because I wasn’t interested in any continuation after what seemed like an already pretty strong ending.

Toshiro is my favorite because he falls into all niches of character tropes that I enjoy including but not limited to: child genius who acts responsible but is still somewhat immature, cold personality along with ice powers but fierce loyalty to close relationships. I especially enjoy child genius characters for the contradictory dichotomy of what is expected of them in terms of maturity and knowledge and the amount of pressure these kinds of characters face and how they handle it! That said, I enjoy him more for the tropes that he falls into and my personal interpretation of him rather than canon writing for him. I think that though canon is an alright base, he doesn’t get much time to shine (character-wise instead of combat-wise).

And Sabo. Oh my goodness I am brainrotting so hard over Sabo right now. The ASL siblings in general have a vice grip on my heart and really are not letting go. There is so much tragedy in the way that they are written, that works because there are three of them. Ace and Luffy spend so much effort trying to save the only brother they have left in the world not realizing that if they go they’ll be the first to go actually because Sabo is still alive, and Sabo could have done so much and changed so much if only he had regained his memories sooner. Why didn’t he remember sooner? I can only assume it’s because he didn’t want to remember, because he grew out his hair to cover a scar he wasn’t proud of, because he was running away from his origins when he lost his memories and maybe that stuck with him. I don’t even remember when Sabo was introduced as a character because I don’t think he was mentioned during Marineford? But he’s such a compelling character because he does so much to save the world and yet is unable to save his own brother! And he’s written to fit with Ace and Luffy incredibly well, being the voice of reason where they can’t be.

[waywardxrhea]

Tuna-Tober Days 7 and 26 - Matt Murdock

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

prompts: nothing underneath & under the desk

word count: 1,678

content: SMUT! MDNI! 18+ ONLY! semi-public sexual acts, oral (male receiving), no underwear under sundress, brief female masturbation, language (Matt's got a mouth on him), dirty talk (reader's got a mouth on her), love bites.

tuna-tober masterlist / main masterlist

It was a surprisingly hot day in Hell’s Kitchen as you returned to the neighborhood after a short girls’ trip with your friends upstate to get out of the city for a little while. You hadn’t texted Matt that you were home yet, knowing that the firm was hard at work on a case that had been occupying a lot of Matt’s time lately. The case combined with his nearly nightly hobby of stopping criminals on the streets and you being out of town for the week had left you…pent up to say the least. 

Wanting to surprise Matt, you ordered food from the place where he, Foggy, and Karen frequently got meals while working on cases. The lunch wasn’t the only surprise you had in store for him though. When you had dropped off your bags at your shared apartment, you had done something risky that you hoped would lead to something, anything with Matt. You had taken off your underwear as a means of enticing him, even if it was later that day when he got off of work. You were willing to wait until the end of the day, but no longer than that. You needed Matt. 

A pang of anxiety hit you momentarily at the prospect of going onto the streets of New York City in a sundress without any underwear on, but the memories of your intimate moments with Matt overtook that anxiety and bolstered your confidence. You couldn’t help the memories occupying your mind as you picked up the food and began walking to the firm. The flood of these memories had gone straight to your core, and you didn’t even realize how worked up you had gotten yourself until you entered the office. 

After knocking on the door quietly, it opened to reveal Matt who had a look of mixed emotions on his face. There was first happiness, his charming smile as he greeted you making your heart flutter - you would never get over how giddy that smile made you. Next was what looked like relief as he realized that you had brought lunch. After that though was a flash of lust and a different type of hunger as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. Matt reached up and loosened his tie as he stepped aside to let you in, clearing his throat before saying, “Thank you for bringing lunch, sweetheart.” He followed close behind as you placed the food on a table, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back flush to him as he kissed your shoulder and mumbled, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you replied, relaxing into his embrace. Glancing around, you didn’t see Foggy or Karen in the office, so you asked, “Where are the others?”

There was a pause for a few moments before Matt said, “A couple blocks away. They stopped to talk with…Brett. He’s been helping us a lot with this case.” His hands began massaging your hips, and as he did, you started to feel his arousal poking your backside. Lowering down so his mouth was right beside your ear, his husky voice said, “I have a suspicion you had motives other than just bringing me lunch, sweetheart…” 

You grabbed a bit of the fabric of the skirt of your dress and swished it before asking with a smirk, “What gave that way, counselor?”

Matt let out a strained whine when the smell and taste of your arousal hit him, and his grip on your hips tightened as he moved to place a sloppy kiss on your neck. “You’re…you’re not-?” he asked, his sentence clipped as he focused his senses on you and came to the realization that you had nothing on underneath your dress. “Fuck…” he choked out as his hips ground into you from behind. 

“I was hoping that would be the outcome of this visit, yes,” you teased, grinding back into him and eliciting another breathy whine from his lips. 

“My office. Now,” he practically growled as he turned you around and captured your lips in a passionate kiss while leading you to the small room where his private office was. By the time Matt got you onto his desk and your hands were frantically undoing his belt, he pulled away abruptly and whispered, “Goddamnit…” 

“What?” you asked, not bothering to stop your movements as you did. 

“Karen and Foggy… They’re almost back in the building,” he replied. 

“Well then you better grab your lunch and pretend to be working,” you told him after a few moments of thinking, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. 

“What do you me-” he started to say, but cut himself short when you began to sink down into a comfortable enough position on the floor, hidden from sight under his desk. 

“Hurry back,” you said in a low and sultry tone, which earned a whispered curse from Matt as he fumbled to grab his food to bring to his desk. 

When he got back and scooted his rolling chair closer to you, your hands were on him immediately, slowly running up and down his thighs, almost brushing against the bulge in his slacks, but always missing by millimeters. “Fuck, sweetheart, they’re almost-” Matt choked out before you hushed him. 

“Just act like I’m not here,” you told him with a quiet chuckle escaping as his hips bucked in search of friction. 

“It’s not that easy,” he countered through gritted teeth as your fingers ghosted past his aching cock. He sucked in a sharp breath before adding, “You’re making it really hard to-”

He cut himself off though when the main door to the office opened and closed as Foggy and Karen entered the space. “Ooh, Matt, when’d you get lunch?” Foggy asked, popping his head into Matt’s office as he did. Matt cleared his throat and tried to keep his voice steady as he told him that you brought it. “Oh nice! Give her our thanks when you see her tonight! Karen and I just talked with Brett and got a good lead, we’ll be in my office sorting it out while we eat,” he said. 

“Y-yeah. Tonight. I’ll tell her,” Matt replied, biting the inside of his cheek to contain the moan threatening to escape as you finally danced your fingers along his length through his slacks. 

“Thanks, bud! If you need anything, you know where we’ll be!” Foggy said cheerfully before closing the door behind him. 

When you heard the click of the door handle, you finally reached for the zipper of Matt’s slacks and slid it down before freeing his length from the confines of them and his underwear. A hiss of air went through Matt’s teeth as you leaned up and began teasing him with your tongue, running it up the underside in a way you knew drove him crazy every time. You let out a pleased hum as his hand reached down to caress your cheek, turning to kiss the palm of his hand before once more adjusting so you could take him into your mouth. 

With his legs widening to accommodate you, Matt leaned back into his chair as his head lulled onto the headrest, a pleasure filled sigh leaving his lips as his eyes closed in bliss. The quiet sounds of pleasure leaving Matt’s lips went straight to your core, and you could feel yourself growing more aroused as you bobbed your head up and down Matt’s length. 

A quiet moan left your throat as Matt laced his fingers in your hair, the reverberation on his cock driving Matt mad as he grew closer to his release. “Fuck, sweetheart, I want- I need to- Please let me touch you,” Matt choked out. The fresh waves of your arousal hitting his nose alone were enough to bring him impossibly closer to his orgasm. He wanted to touch you. Taste you. Feel you around him as he took you against the desk. He needed you. 

You released Matt from your mouth and began working him quickly with your hand, the sound lewd in the otherwise quiet office. A quiet chuckle left your lips as you told him, “Be good for me here and I’m all yours tonight. However you want me. Wherever you want me.” Your lips met his right thigh and you began sucking a small love bite into the skin before telling him in a low voice, “Mark me so the world knows I’m taken. Make me scream so the whole city knows who I belong to…”

A string of curses flew from Matt’s mouth as his hips bucked up and a quiet moan escaped his lips. You took the opportunity to take him back into your mouth and hollowed out your cheeks as he hit the back of your throat, one hand holding steady on the side of his thigh and the other sneaking down to rub your clit. The moment your finger began rubbing the sensitive bud, Matt had to bite down on his knuckle to keep quiet as his body flushed with warmth as he reached his orgasm, the pleasure making his toes curl in his shoes. 

With his chest heaving, Matt leaned back into his chair to catch his breath as he caressed your face with one of his hands once again to ground himself as he came down from his high. When he finally regained his bearings, he chucked before whispering, “Thank you. That was…amazing. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you replied, a quiet giggle leaving your lips at how risky what you just did was. “You think you can get Karen and Foggy out of the office for a bit? I don’t think I can wait til tonight,” you told Matt as you intentionally adjusted your skirt again to tease him. 

“I’ll find a way,” he assured you, tucking himself back into his slacks before standing up and going to tell the two of them about something he found in his paperwork that he needed them to go investigate. 

[imonanotherlebel]

Look where the night led us..

Part 1 | Part 2

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

Genre: Smut, romance, established relationship

Pairing: Mingyu x reader

Warnings: Minors DNI, Sexual content, swearing, making out, penetrative sex, vulgar language, degradation, SA, Irresponsible drinking, irresponsible driving(drive safe kids), unprotected sex(use condoms y'all, they were made for a reason!) DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE A MINOR!!!

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

Oh shit, you kept swearing in your head. What did I get myself into....

***************

"What did I tell you about this skirt?", Mingyu half scolded into your ear as you tried your best to pull it down to cover up what it was supposed to cover in the first place.

You were at the club, with your boyfriend and your friends on a night out. And you had been so arrogant and decided to wear the tiniest skirt you could find, just to prove a fucking point. What? You may ask...

You had ordered a cute skirt and top online, and when you were about to place the order, Mingyu had warned you about how the skirt might be a tad too short. There were prettier skirts, but you had to ignore him and buy this one anyway. It wasn't until it arrived, and you tried it on, that reality hit you. Fuck. It really is a bit too short.

You decided to keep it shut and return it, hating to be proven wrong by your boyfriend. Until he himself remembered the skirt and top when you were complaining about not having anything new to wear for the night out.

"Why not, babe? That new skirt and top you ordered arrived last week, right?", he just had to mention right fucking now.

"Ummm.. Yeah... About that. I lost it. I think it's somewhere amongst my clothes but I just can't find it.", you lied.

"Oh, too bad.", Mingyu said as he pulled his t-shirt on, oblivious of your little lie. "Want me to look for it?", he asked, since he knew his way around the closet very well.

"I don't think we should waste our time, Gyu. We're running late.",you rushed him. He nodded. You almost thought you got away with it until.....

"Hey babe, look! I found it!", you heard him yell from the closet. You sprinted into the room and, there he was, holding exibit A in his hands. Well shit.

"Oh, thanks, baby.", you said. "But I think this is okay", you said, looking at your outfit.

"But you wore that last week when we went to the park, remember?"

There was no way you could get away from this. His memory is too good, and when it comes to outfits, he is pretty serious about it.

So you decided to take it from his hands and meet your doom. It's not like it's a big deal or anything. But the thought of being proven wrong by Mingyu and having him make jokes about it for the next two months or so might hurt your ego.

So you went ahead into your room and put it on. When you walked into the living room, Mingyu just knew something was fishy. I mean, even a person with low eyesight might be able to notice how you walked so uncomfortably. You looked like a newborn zebra.

"Give me a 360," he said, already knowing something's up. You did as he told.

"Too short, huh?", he asked, raising a brow.

"I mean a little. But it's the style. I wanted this to be like this. This is a trend, you know?", lies lies lies. You tried your best to lie.

"Oh yeah? What trend?", he asked, amused, yet buying none of your bs.

"The trend. You wouldn't know. It's a Pinterest trend.", you blabbered. "Come on, we're getting late", you added grabbing a coat and pulling Mingyu's arm. He did not get up.

"Come on, babe. Let's go now.", you said.

"Not until you wear something that actually covers your ass.", he said nonchalantly.

"Come on babe. It's not that short. It is the style. Let's just go", you pleaded.

"Or... You could just admit that I was right about it being too short when you were about to order it, change into something sensible and go.", he said, not dropping the attitude.

"Are you saying that you can't protect me?", you asked, giving him your attitude.

"What? No!", he screeched out. Yep. That did the trick.

"Well, it sounds like it", you continued... Yes! The win is mine!

"Come on baby, you know I don't mind what you wear as long as it is COMFORTABLE. I can protect you, infact the sexier you look, the more confident I feel for being able to bag a gem like you. But right now, you are just forcing yourself into that thing to prove a point.", he said seriously.

"Well, I am comfortable in this. I am telling you the truth", you replied arrogantly, frustrated that he knew you too well.

"If you say so then...."

"Then let's go. You're gonna be there with me.", you said, cutting him off mid sentence, grabbing his arm and tugging at it.

Mingyu let out a defeated sigh. You always had your ways with him. "Fine.", he sighed. "But if some motherfucker cat calls you, imma beat his ass." He added.

*Fast forward to a few hours later*

You were all tipsy now, a few drinks in. Your friends were already on the dance floor, taking over a part of it. Amelia, one of your friends, came up to you and pulled you along with her. As soon as you got up, you could feel the cold air hit your bottom half. Shit. Mingyu immediately pulled you back down. "You go ahead, Amelia. Y/n needs some water. She'll join you soon."

Amelia nodded tipsily and went ahead, leaving a very angry Gyu beside you. "I fucking told you y/n! It's too short, isn't it? You know it too, don't you?", he whispered angrily.

"It doesn't bother me that much", you shrugged off and got up to head towards your friends. But Mingyu was close behind.

You can't lie. You felt more than uncomfortable. Not just because it was too short, but also because of the cat calls and perverted stares you got from men. You knew the night was not going to end well, but you still were too arrogant to admit it to Gyu.

You felt his hands on you, pulling you to a side. "Here," he said, removing his jacket. "Tie this around your waist", he said as he himself started to tie it around your waist.

Not gonna lie. You felt grateful. It still didn't cover much. But it was much better than before. "It was fine. But, anything you say.", you mumbled, not admitting your gratefulness. You ran towards your friends and joined them on the dance floor.

It was fun, dancing with all your friends while Mingyu and his guy friends were in their seats. He wasn't drinking since he had to drive you guys home. He was just vaping with the dudes, keeping an eye on you.

One by one, your friends started to get more and more drunk. Resulting in a few of them ending up on the couch you guys had occupied. You were not that drunk, so you continued dancing with your friends. You were into it as the songs started to get hotter and hotter. The girls were wilding and grinding on everyone around you. And the girls were all over each other, pretending to be couples. That's just how you guys were, hence the fun and wild part. So you didn't mind much when you felt a pair of hand slide around your waist from behind.

However, it wasn't long before you felt like they were trying to move around too much. You looked around and it wasn't one of your friends, it wasn't Mingyu either. It was another fucking man! You tried to push him off you and get away, but it was difficult.

"I've been eyeing you since you entered this place, why did you have to wear this damn jacket and cover the best part, huh?", he said trying to slide his hands to your ass. It was disgusting. You looked to the side where Mingyu was while trying to push the dude away, but Mingyu and his friends were not to be seen. Your friends were too drunk to notice your problem.

"Gyu! Help me!", you screamed looking around you hoping to see your boyfriend somewhere. Oh no, they must have gone to the bathroom. Your eyes were starting to tear up when suddenly a huge sound came from behind you, the guy's grip on your body disappeared, and you saw the dude on the ground.

You quickly turned to the scene, and there was Mingyu. Before you could talk, Mingyu was on the man, punching him like a madman. Everything was happening so fast. Mingyu's friends rushed to his side and pulled him off the man before he killed him. You were frozen to the spot. Some other dudes pulled the man away from the scene before something worse happened.

Oh shit, you kept swearing in your head. What did I get myself into....

Your eyes finally met Mingyu's. His eyes were dark with fury, and he was breathing heavily. His friends were still holding him in place. Everyone knew Mingyu was a madman when he's angry. Anything goes when he's mad.

And you knew he would kill for you. The adrenaline was high, and you felt lightheaded. Before you knew, Gyu was grabbing your hand, pulling you along with him as he stormed outside.

He opened the door to your car, "In," he said. You obliged. He got into the drivers seat and banged the door shut. The engine roared to life, and before long, you were speeding through the city's streets.

The car was filled with silence and the air was thick with tension. You knew Mingyu was partially mad at you too.. It was kinda fair. I should have let my fucking ego down for one fucking day, shit.

"Gyu, baby...", you whispered, trying to get his attention. No response.

"I'm sorry. I should have listened.", you continued. You slowly let your hand touch his thigh, rubbing softly. He looked at you, his eyes still had the same darkness, but also something more. God! He is sexy!

There was this really bad habit of yours, or should we say Kink?

As nervous as you were when he gets mad, you also have this side where you get so turned on. You can't help it. He is so sexy and manly and dominant when he is mad. And so protective. It made you wet. And right now, you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter.

The anticipation, the possibility of him fucking your brains out made your breath heavier. And without you knowing, you were whimpering, and Mingyu noticed.

"What do you have to say?", he asked looking at you, knowing this side of you very well.

"I'm sorry.", you whimpered. Feeling so so needy.

"And?", he asked again, this time his voice was lower. You glanced at him and his eyes were hooded. You knew where this was heading.

"I want you so bad", you said, making pleading eyes at him.

"What?", he asked again sternly, making you squeeze your legs together.

"I-I want you, Gyu...."

"Ask the right way, needy whore", he said not even looking your way. He knew you were riled up, he was too... These were times when you LOVED to be degraded.

"Daddy please, fuck me. Pleaseeee.", you whined.

"Spread those pretty legs for me, and rub that needy pussy baby", he ordered.

You slowly leaned back on your seat, spreading your legs apart. You kept looking at him while letting your hand slide into your panties, you skirt now ridden up. You started rubbing your dripping wet pussy, slowly......

The car took a turn and you guys were now driving through a very empty road. Soon the car came to a stop by the side of the road and you knew exactly where this is going.

Mingyu's eyes met yours, reading them almost... You felt the magnetic pull, and before you knew it, Mingyu pulled you into his lap in one swift motion. You quickly straddled him.

Mingyu's hands were quick to move. One on your hip, holding it in place as his other hand moved to your hair, pulling it roughly. "Look at me and stop wiggling.", he said. You look into his eyes, breathing heavily.

It was dark and mesmerising. You felt drunk from just looking into his eyes. He kept holding your face in place, staring into your soul as his other hand moved from your hip down to your ass.

"Not much fabric here. You like to play dirty, baby? Wanted to tease all the men around you, huh?" He said in a husky voice, it was so dirty. You wouldn't dream to do such thing, but being degraded like this, it just turned you on.

You gasped as you felt a sharp smack on your bottom. "Gyu," you moaned, looking into his eyes still.

"What do you want, whore?", he asked once more, loving the sense of power.

"I want you", you whispered hazily. You felt so drunk. Everything was a haze. And you haven't cum once yet.

He loved the look on your face; the way you looked so fucked out by a mere slap to your ass, the way your seductive big eyes have now turned into a hazy hooded situation, the fact that you were dripping on his lap. Oh fuck! What a lucky man.

His hands roamed your body, almost as if he was trying to find something in the dark. He was quick to move back to the main location as you guys were by the side of a road, with the possibility of being discovered by someone any moment.

Both his hands found your skirt, tugging at the fabric, almost playing with it. He smirked, looking at you. "Since this is already too short to cover anything, might as well make the best out of the situation and fuck you, huh?" He asked, his voice dropping lower and lower.

"I mean, in this position, it is only covering your hips, like a belt.", he continued, staring at your lower body. You felt so dirty, and you loved it! You squirmed under his gaze.

His hands rolled your skirt up, exposing everything, and the feeling of cold air hitting your lower area this time felt electric. You let out a soft whimper.

However, you couldn't get away with just whimpers for long because before you knew it, his fingers were already moving towards your underwear.

"Since you're so into showing Everything to Everybody, what's the use of this little thing, huh?", he said as he ripped your panties apart. He threw them to a side and focused on you.

He pushed your body a little back, making you lean on the steering wheel as he slowly took all of your messy, breathy state into his eyes. Then his eyes moved to your cunt, his fingers following closely behind his gaze. His finger slipped through your folds, testing the water.

"Shit, you're dripping wet, baby. You really are such a needy slut, aren't you? Answer me, baby girl...", he was starting to get pussy drunk. You could feel it. His eyes were starting to get hooded. You two really were a match made in heaven, the way you both were so addicted to each other..

You started to let out breathy moans as his fingers worked your pussy expertly. One squeezing your ass, as the other one rubbed your clit with so much precision. He just knew the perfect spots. You could feel the knot tightening in your lower abdomen, as you fought keep steady in this position.

"Two of his fingers entered into you, while the other hand rubbed you clit. The movements synchronise, making you squeeze your eyes shut. Your legs were starting to tremble.

You squeeze his shoulders, trying your best to stay balanced. "You are very much enjoying this, aren't you? Do you want to make things perfect, and cum for me now?", Gyu asked in the most sexiest way you could imagine a voice to sound, that itself helped you get over the edge. You felt your first orgasm wash over you, taking your breath away. You leaned back, almost hitting the horn in the process.

His left hand moved to your waist, holding you to prevent you from falling while he brought his other hand in between your faces. He looked at his wet fingers, and then at you. Then he brought his fingers to his lips, slowly licking each finger clean, and then licked his lips in the end. He looked straight into your eyes as he did that, making you feel even wetter than you already are.

He then grabbed your face and smashed his lips onto yours, kissing you with so much hunger and lust. It was rough, it was wet, and it was messy. Your hands roamed all over his body, loving the way his muscles flexed with the movements.

You both broke the kiss, fighting for air. "Want. You. In. Me." ,you let out between breaths. You managed to get your hands to move quickly down to his trousers, unzipping him in record time. You lowered the waistband of his boxers and grabbed his dick in your hands. It sprung free, and it was so so hard.

You looked at his face, and his mouth was agape, taking the amazing sight in front of him. However, he quickly reminded himself that HE WAS IN CHARGE and stopped you right in your tracks.

"Slow down there, baby. I will do what I want to do.", he leaned towards you while letting his hand pull you closer towards him. He planted a soft kiss on you neck, moving the kisses upwards, upto your ear. He kisses your ear softly and whispered, "And you wanna know what I wanna do right now?".

Your breath was stuck in your throat. The feelings were feelinging.

"Fucking answer me", he whispered angrily, biting your ear softly. You let out a moan.

"No, I don't know Gyu", you managed to say.

"Let me show you then", he said, and without a warning, he pushed his dick into your pussy. You felt the burn, oh yes, you did! Thank god, you were already dripping... "Oh my fucking god!", you screamed out.

He was thick, so thick and so big! You legit could feel him hitting somewhere up your stomach like seriously. You felt so full.

"Look at me", he said touching your face, "Look at me" he repeated, making you look at him. You did, the feeling was overwhelming.

He started to move in you, all the while keeping his eye contact. Oh fuck. I could cum immediately.

But your mind was too hazy to process it. He continued to fuck you, increasing his pace gradually. The direct eye contact, the way his mouth was slightly open, staring at you, your face, your lips, your eyes. It was so fucking hot.

He pulled you in for a kiss, kissing you everywhere he could find. You kissed his neck, sucking marks onto his skin. His movements stopped suddenly, and you leaned back.

"Ride me, baby", he ordered, leaning back onto the seat, holding your hips with both his hands. You bit your bottom lips, and slowly started to move. His hands were guiding you.

His hands were holding you tight and guiding you well, it helped you ride him easily.

The feeling was so good, and you could see that he was enjoying this very well too. Leaning back, moaning slightly, it was a sight to see. He looked so good! And the fact that it was only you who could make him like this, drew you crazy. "Fuck", you moaned out.

You grabbed his arms, trying to steady yourself, as the muscles were starting to sore and you felt a lot right now. He also started to thrust into you, holding you steadily, taking the reigns back to his hands.

You could feel him throb inside of you, and you also felt your orgasm nearing. "I'm close, Gyu ", you managed to say.

"Me too, baby. So close. Cum for me okay?", he said and increased his speed to max. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as the thrusts hit harded and deeper each time. You just let incoherent words slip out of your mouth as you felt the maximum amout of pleasure you could feel.

Soon, you could feel the familiar wave of pleasure rolling towards you. "I'm cumming", you screamed out and he nodded. You let it take over you, and you moaned while riding out your high, feeling your legs tremble. Soon you felt his hot cum filling you up, and a few thrusts later, he stopped. You both were fucked up, for now atleast.

It took you both a minute to finally gather up the energy to speak, given the intense session you both just had. He slowly pulled out of you. And then he scooped you into his arms and placed you back into your seat.

"Don't ever wear that thing outside again," he finally spoke. "It's dangerous. What if I couldn't come help you in time?", he was starting to scold you. But really, you could hear the worry etched in his voice.

"I'm sorry Gyu, it was my fault.", you admitted sincerely. Tonight really was a shock.

"Oh, you will be," he replied cockily.

"Why?", you asked squinting your eyes at him.

"This was just the warm-up session, baby. The night is long." He said as he zipped himself up after cleaning with some wet wipes and tissues. He then started the engine and started to drive. You were dumbfounded.

You reached to grab a few tissues when Mingyu said, "Oh and by the way, if any of my cum has spilled out of you by the time we get home, you are going to regret it. So squeeze those pretty legs shut, baby.", he warned teasingly. Oh fuck! Tonight is going to be WILD.

****************************************

This was rotting in my drafts for a while now, and the previous ask made me want to post this.

Enjoy! <3

[monimccoythings]

Mending each other's hearts II

Jesus, this took forever. I'm having so much fun writing this, for real. However I think I'll have to do a third part because GOSH do I love angstiness and suffering. One thing I also love is Jean being a wingman and such a cool friend I want to work more with that.

tw: logan is a caveman and a brute, and possibly emotionally constipated, really; a bit angsty.

I have no idea about clubs, I just googled New York clubs and picked the coolest looking.

tags: @kathieycarrerarosshley (I'm not sure if there's anybody else, sorry, I don't usually check the notes :()

Part I │ Part II (You're here!!)

He basically jumped down the stairs, nearly crashing into several innocent students. Like Hell he was going to allow you to do that to yourself. You were not some cheap whore who did one-night-stands. You were so sweet, so innocent, that the thought of having anyone touch you inappropriately, rubbing themselves against your body, tainting you with their dirty hands made his stomach churn and his claws start to come out.

Despite running as if the literal Devil was chasing him, all his efforts were for nothing, because when he barged through the front doors of the mansion he could already hear the gears of your car speeding up, miles away. Fuck, he was too late; but maybe, if he traced your scent, if he went now to his motorbike he may be able to catch you and stop this madness. As he turned around, he narrowly avoided his keys being psychically thrown towards him. Jean looked at him with a determined look on her face.

“Lavo, go. NOW.” Her voice commanded no objection, and for once, he would happily obey orders.

He usually was very careful with his motorbike, an old lady deserved to be treated with respect, but not tonight, there was not a second to lose. Muttering a quiet apology to his dear ride, he sped off towards the city, silently praying to a god he didn’t believe in that you hadn’t done anything you would regret later.

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You felt a sense of excitement settle in your lower belly. Look at you, a grown adult, dressing up all cute and going on your own adventures in the Big Apple, you felt like you were going to squeal like a little girl, either that or you needed to stop the car and puke.

You knew exactly where to go, where the good stuff would be; under normal conditions you wouldn’t be allowed in, so that’s why you were planning to use your powers to sneak in. Maybe you were just some plain teacher at a private school for mutants but that didn’t mean you didn’t have tricks up your sleeve.

A sudden memory of the real reason this was all about, made your heart twist with ache and longing. The memory of Logan and Jean in that empty classroom would be forever engraved inside your mind, a confirmation that no matter what you did, you would never be enough. No. You mentally slapped yourself. You couldn’t keep torturing yourself like that. The only thing invisible about you were your powers. Tonight, you were going to feel beautiful, appreciated, and most importantly, desired. A pang of anxiety hitted you, what if nobody notices? The real possibility of being made into a fool once again was scary and nearly made you turn away and return home with your tail between your legs. They will. Maybe it was that part of you that had been kicked long enough talking, you would never know, but it gave you enough confidence to keep going.

You made sure to park your car as far as you could, you didn’t want anything to associate you with that little stunt you were about to pull. You casually walked into a nearby alleyway to turn yourself invisible, the last thing this night needed was a public scandal. 

There was truly something magical about walking down the street while you were invisible, it made you feel confident and powerful. Nobody could harm you if they didn’t know you were there. You watched couples pass by pampering each other, a group of drunk college freshmans trying their best to walk in a straight line, you could observe every single detail on them without feeling like a creep. Sometimes you wondered why you didn't have your mutation on at all times. It certainly would make your life easier.

Before you knew it, you had already arrived at your destination. Taking advantage of some rich boy skipping line, you glued yourself to his back and entered, making a little squeal that startled the poor security guard.

The place took your breath away.

Lavo was one of the most exclusive clubs in all of Manhattan. One night there (paying the entrance and restaurant, of course) would probably cost you half your salary. You knew Charles could afford it, but you weren’t going to ask him to bill the start of your party girl era.

A sudden realization left you filled with embarrassment; you had entered, now what. In a desperate way to fit in, you decided that the most suitable course of action would be to look for a place to turn visible again and go for a drink.

────────────────────────────────────────────

Logan lost count of how many traffic laws he broke that night, he didn’t really care. All he wanted was to reach you. Each time he imagined a worse scenario that somehow always ended with you in the arms of another man, enjoying his caresses and kisses. He panicked, making his grip on the handlebar painfully tighten. He didn’t know why he was feeling like that, and he also didn’t know what he would do if he found you with a suitor.

He wasn’t impressed at all by the imposing building, and he was less impressed by the regulars. Bunch of spoiled rich brats, if someone asks him.

The security guard wasn’t in the mood to let him in and less while looking like that, but since he didn’t have time nor the patience to deal with any form of bullshit, he opted to launch him across the street with a single punch instead of pulling out his claws, leaving the crowd completely silent.

The inside was as bad as the outside, or even worse. He didn’t like that place at all, too many people, too much noise and too many smells. It overwhelmed him. How the fuck was he supposed to find you there. He showed his way among the crowd, ignoring the grunts and complaints from the people surrounding him, fuck them all. His heightened senses were practically screaming at him to go wild and ravage the place until he got you.

His hunting instincts told him to look for some dark corner where he could keep a close watch on the entire club, it’d be easier, and quieter for him. He could do without all that modern music drilling his ears. Some goddamned peace and tranquility would help him focus.

He didn’t need to wait for long until his eyes settled on you. On the dancefloor, with a glass in your hand, and a man glued to your back with his lips dangerously close to your neck.

Logan saw red.

────────────────────────────────────────────

As you took a sip of your grasshopper, you wondered why you had been worried in the first place. Just one look at how that dress hugged your ass and you had several men eating from your palm. You had to confess that even if it flattered you, it was a bit suffocating having that much attention all of a sudden.

The man you had picked for the night, Kelsey? Kevin?, you hadn't heard it well with the lous music, was actually kinda nice. Out of all of the men that surrounded you he had been the only one to actually try to start some friendly conversation before hitting on you. That sweet attempt just earned him some brownie points. That and that body which seemed to have been sculpted by the gods. Damn, what did they feed him?. His hands moved closely to your hips, and you couldn’t help but wish those arms that held you were bigger, and hairier. You shook your head. Focus on the Adonis right behind you. The one who was going to make you feel so good tonight. You could already imagine it.

But fantasies were just that. Fantasies.

An altercation snapped you out of your daydream. Someone was pushing his way quite violently towards the dancefloor, and by the sound of those screams of protest he wasn’t being very gentle.

The blood froze in your veins when you saw who was approaching. No. How. Why. Millions of questions ran through your mind, your body screaming at you to run, but you were paralyzed with fear.

You had never seen that look on Logan.

Feral.

Wild.

Monster.

You had heard people describe him with those words since the very first day you had met him. Coming from both humans and mutants. You had never paid them any attention, being so confident in knowing that despite his gruff exterior, inside there was hidden a golden heart just as big as his muscles. But now you were considering that despite knowing that, maybe the others had some point in their arguments.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on a little.

He was getting closer. Unconsciously, you put yourself in front of your dancing partner, despite knowing that whatever little mutant trick you had was useless against The Wolverine’s blind fury. Yet, you weren’t going to let some innocent civilian get hurt because your friend was pissed at you for whatever stupid reason.

His eyes were unfocused, darting from one person to the other like a wild animal. You weren’t sure if he was able to see you at all.

���Logan. What are you doing here?” You tried to keep your voice steady, knowing that when he got like this, anything could really set him off and then all Hell would break loose. He grunted and finally looked at you. Pupils dilating when he got a better look of you in that dress.

“Home. Now.” Among all the noise it was hard to understand him, but whatever he’d said you were sure it wouldn’t benefit you in the slightest. It didn't help that those words resembled more growls than actual speech.

Your new friend, supposedly Kevin, tried to step forward, foolishly thinking he had a chance against one of the most vicious mutants to ever exist. Logan looked at him with barely restrained rage, breathing heavily. His stance, along with the strength the air came out of his nostrils reminded you of a bull ready to attack. You started fearing the worst.

Within a blink, Logan had grabbed your arm and was forcefully dragging you towards the emergency exit. You slammed your heels against the floor, trying to keep you grounded in your spot, but that only seemed to make him angrier. Quickly reaching down, he scooped you up and carried you over his broad shoulder, making you drop your drink and leaving you mortified to the point of nearly accidentally outing yourself as a mutant in a room full of people.

After what felt like the longest time of your lfe, you two made it outside that place and after several kicks and threats, he finally put you down in an alleyway where all the shame that filled you, all the embarrassment, turned into rage.

Why.

Why couldn't he let you have this?

Why wouldn’t he allow you to move on?

Why did he have to keep breaking your heart over and over again? Hadn’t you suffered enough?

You screamed at him, you pushed him and insulted him until your voice became hoarse. The force of your screams were drowned by the sound of an incoming storm. And he just stood there, taking it all in stride, just looking at you, like a marble statue. A less wise person would have thought he was bored, just waiting for you to scream your heart out and finish your tantrum. But his eyes, oh his gorgeous eyes that always made you melt, were filled with emotion. Could be guilt, could be pain, could be grief, they were passing far too quickly for you to notice.

Yet he still didn’t say anything which only fueled your anger. The nerve of him, the fucking audacity. You felt mocked, humiliated, the laughingstock of Xavier’s School; a silly woman in her early thirties with a pathetic little girl crush on a man who wouldn’t give her the time of the day.

You slapped him as hard as you could.

Probably not the smartest thing given his bones were made of the toughest metal to ever exist which you instantly felt when your hand made contact with his cheek. You bit your lip, trying to swallow down the agonizing scream of pain that was crawling up your throat to get out.

That made him react, his expression changing into one of concern. He tried to say something, move closer to you and check your hand, but you stepped back, your back pressed against the brick wall.

Holding your injured hand with your other, you lowered your head. Rain started pouring on you both, drenching your carefully groomed hair and wiping all that expensive makeup away. But at least it would hide the tears that fell freely though your cheeks. 

What a mess you were, drenched like a wet cat, with your makeup ruined and sobbing while the man of your dreams just watched you with pity. You should leave and lock yourself in your room. Turning invisible again, you tried to make your exit towards your car, knowing it would be a long walk full of cries and sobs, but his arm blocked you, damn that sharp sense of smell. you turned around and his other arm blocked you again, effectively trapping you between himself and the wall.

Suddenly you found yourself very tired, of his games, of being screwed over and over again, of your emotional burst. You just wanted to go home, take a bath, and sleep. You couldn’t do this anymore.

“Please. I want to go home.” There must have been something in your voice so broken that caused him to immediately take action. Logan suddenly had the decency to look a bit ashamed of himself, after that stunt he pulled off at the club, however you couldn’t care less right now. Muttering a quick ‘yeah’ he slowly pulled away from you, and awkwardly stepped back.

Not being used to walking on heels, you would have fell face first against the ground, putting the icing on the cake of that terrible night, had not a pair of strong arms caught you and lifted you into a bridal carry.

Not so long ago, you would have been all over the moon at this gesture. Logan Howlett, the hunk of the X-Mansion, carrying you like a princess. Yeah, the old you would have loved that.

Right now you were feeling too emotionally numb to care. Even when his arms pulled you closer to his chest, even when he softly pressed his lips against the crown of your head.

You just couldn’t feel anything.

[torasplanet]

❝𝘼𝙉𝙔𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙔𝙊𝙐.ᐟ❞

KANTO!M. SANO + F. READER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; you've noticed mikey's been in such a bad mood lately and decide to give him a little gift to cheer him up!!

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 ; smut, fluff-ish?, couch sex, riding, thigh riding, lingere, praise, body worship, mikey's actually a sweetheart, bf!mikey, pretty vanilla, petnames (baby, pretty, etc), unprotected (wrap that shit or gtfo) and skin color not mentioned

Mikey had been in the worst mood ever lately.

He’s been sulking around the apartment, the frown on his face deeper than usual, not bothering to take his shoes off when going to bed leaving you to take them off in his sleep. You didn’t mind. You liked to take care of Mikey because you knew how much he needed it but it seemed like lately, he needed it more often.

You didn’t know what was wrong, and he didn’t tell you either but you really wanted to know and help him. Making him his favorite dinner didn’t work, he still seemed sad after thanking you with a kiss. Buying him things didn’t work because he asked you to return them because ‘he should be buying you things’. Even when he took it, he still didn’t look happy aside from flashing you a little smile as a thanks. Mikey was in the worst mood and wasn’t telling you anything about it! If you didn’t know anything, how were you supposed to help him? You wished he didn’t have a problem with sharing feelings.

Mikey didn’t care about telling people how he felt. That was easy, he just didn’t want to do it with certain people, not after everything that’s happened over the years. He didn’t want to do it with you either; mainly because he didn’t want to worry you. You always got so worried about Mikey even at the littlest things such as him leaving his shoes on when going to bed and he didn’t want to worry you even more with his other problems. Mikey felt lucky that you even cared enough to take his boots off in his sleep. Worrying you was the one thing Mikey didn’t want but you cared too much about him for that to be prevented.

You really did care a lot about Mikey so when the idea of giving him the perfect gift that would for sure cheer him up came to you, of course, you didn’t hesitate to do it. But not hesitating also means not thinking and you did not think about how Mikey was in the middle of a meeting right now on your way here. The memory of him telling you that after kissing you goodbye at the door had just hit as you stood in front of the door that held the meeting.

Holding a convenience store bag in your hands full of Mikey’s favorite snacks while staring at the door wondering if you should knock or just stand there until it was wrapped up. Maybe just knocking to make Mikey aware of your presence so no one hit you in your fucking face on their way out of the room was the best idea.

Bringing one of your hands up, you knocked against the rough mahogany door lightly but the sound of faint chatter stopping in the room told you that they heard it. The door creaked open soon after just allowing you a small peak in the room but Koko’s face was blocking it. His expression relaxed when he saw it was you and he opened the door completely allowing everyone in the room to see your figure.

You made eye contact with Mikey who seemed as though he was shocked that you were here and then you looked around the room at the others there, the Haitanis, Shion, Hanma, y’know the usuals. “Sorry, this is a bad time…” You muttered looking at your boyfriend again before beginning to back away from the door but he stopped you.

“No, sit.” You looked around awkwardly because of his command but obliged and made your way through the room keeping your eyes on the blonde instead of focusing on the eyes that followed you. Mikey lifted his arm and rested on the back of the couch telling you where to sit “Keep going.” Mikey spoke to the others in the room once you sat down on the couch next to him leaning against his side.

His arm found its place on your shoulder with his hand soothingly running up and down your arm. You felt extremely out of place in this room. Sanzu, Hanma, and the Haitani Brothers were all in this room and they’d done some crazy shit and here you were just sitting here happily with your gang leader's boyfriend. It was nerve-racking but you relaxed into your lover’s touch closing your eyes to ignore everyone in the room other than him.

You could still hear their conversation but when your mind slipped into a peaceful sleep, you couldn’t hear it anymore. Mikey noticed maybe ten minutes into your slumber that you were asleep and held you even closer. 

His attention from the meeting often shifted to you to make sure you were still breathing and just to gaze at you. You were so cute when slept and it hurt Mikey just a bit when he had to wake you up after the meeting had finished and everyone piled out of the room like rats scurrying to cheese by Mikey’s command.

“Baby, wake up.” Mikey muttered gently tapping the side of your face as you stirred into him. Your relaxed face scrunching up into a frown before your eyes fluttered open and you remembered who you were with and a smile grew on your face. “Hi.” You sat up as Mikey flashed you a small smile before looking away “Sorry I ate all the snacks through the meeting.” He apologized holding up the plastic bag that was deflated with the lack of snacks filling it.

Your brows furrowed as you stood to your feet “Mikey! Some was for me too.” You exclaimed watching as the long-haired male wiped his mouth of the leftovers from the snacks. He sat up in his seat before reaching over and placing his hands on your hips “Sorry. Did I ruin your surprise?” Mikey asked as he dragged you closer forcing you down on his lap. Your sour expression was quickly replaced with a confused look at his words.

“How did you know it was a surprise?”

“You never come all the way here unless you wanna give me something and it can’t wait.” 

That was true. Mikey didn’t like you being here when the other Kanto members were. You never questioned it but he just didn’t like it and you sort of knew why, not that it mattered much because you came here anyway evident from your presence in this room. Giving Mikey this surprise here was the perfect plan because he’d never expect it; mainly because you two have never had sex in this room before.

Your body burned up at the thought and you tilted forward burying your face into the crook of his neck “Well that wasn’t the surprise.” Mikey looked down at you his hand going to the small of your back at your words wanting to hear more. He backed his neck away forcing you to sit up on your own so he could hear and see you. You got embarrassed and avoided eye contact as your hands made their way down to the hem of the skirt you wore.

You slowly lifted the skirt making the white lace panties you wore visible to Mikey and his face brightened up at this clearly happy. He recognized this pair, you had a matching bra and it was a lingerie set that you had modeled for him after one of your shopping hauls and it ended up with you two making a mess all over the mattress. Mikey loved it, it was his favorite actually and that’s why you wore it.

His dark eyes fluttered up to you without his head tilting up. His silence was scaring you because you didn’t know what he was thinking about doing with you but it made you a good kind of scared. Anything that he did would be a surprise and the unknown action was giving you a rush before it even happened.

His hand that was on your back made its way to the front and up your shirt “Got the bra on too?” The blonde asked pushing your shirt up with the movement of his hand until he made it to your bra groping it a bit as you hummed while nodding. He raised the shirt completely and saw the matching white lacey bra and a smile crawled up onto his pink lips. His hands grabbed your waist as his face came close to yours after tilting his head up finally.

His breath was on your lips as he just stared at you happily taking in your embarrassed face “You walked all the way here in this…just to surprise me?” Mikey asked his lips nearly connecting with yours but you remained calm (as calm as you could be) and nodded “You’ve been sad a lot recently…I wanted to make you happy.” You replied and a chuckle came from your boyfriend as one of his hands came up to the nape of your neck, his fingers dragging lazily up your spine as he did so giving you chills.

“Don’t you say I look sad all the time?” He asked “Yeah but now you look sadder!” You shouted placing your hands on his shoulders and his grin extended nearly stretching from ear to ear “I’d do anything for you Mikey, I just wanna make you happy.” You spoke in a much calmer tone as you smiled a bit at him. Oh, how Mikey loved you. You had such a strong desire to please him and make sure that he was smiling at all times. Making him dinner, turning the shower on for him, bringing him snacks, getting all dressed up for him…you were so wonderful and he never understood how he got someone like you.

Someone willing to care for him and deal with all the shit he had even when he pushed them away. Mikey really didn’t deserve you…that’s what he thought at least. “I don’t deserve you, pretty.” He connected the two of you. His tongue wandered around your mouth trying to fight yours and of course, he won.

The kiss was sloppy and rushed as if you two only had a small amount of time. Mikey’s hands wandered all over your body during the kiss, flipping up your skirt, rubbing at your torso, groping your tits and butt, and even sneaking his hands down your panties but not to your cunt. His fingers just barely dangled past the waistband teasing you by pulling it back just a bit away from your skin and letting it slap back.

You began to take your shirt off still kissing but when you went to slide the skirt off, Mikey stopped you. “Keep it on.” He muttered breaking the kiss a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips, breaking when he leaned back against the couch staring at you half-naked breathing heavily on his lap. As your fingers inched to his belt, his voice stopped you once again “I want you to ride my thigh first.” He wanted you to what first?

You weren’t exactly complaining but you didn’t want his thigh, you wanted him inside of you. “But–” “It’s my gift, right? I get to choose how I use it.” Mikey interrupted you quickly and when you went to say something more, he shut you up with a light slap to your cunt only getting a mewl out of you “Don’t worry okay? I’ll give it to you when you’re done.” Mikey said spreading his legs making you choose one of his thighs to settle on. When you nodded in agreement, his hands went back to your hips ready to support you when you got ready to start moving.

You put your hands on the space of his thigh that you were sitting on and began to grind your hips onto the fabric of his pants gasping at the light friction. You tried to keep quiet as best as you could because you didn’t know if there was anyone else still in the building who could hear you outside of the room “Why are you being so quiet? I wanna hear my baby.” Mikey cooed leaning forward to press a soft peck to your lips before falling back onto the sofa.

When he jerked his leg up into your pussy, you let out a yelp that was louder than you expected it to be. You had the urge to send your palms to your mouth to hide your moans but Mikey’d just remove them. He was serious when he said that he wanted to hear you.

“S-Sorry…” You murmured as you continued your pace of grinding against his leg letting out soft moans from your lips. Your cunt squeezed around nothing as you continued to create friction between your legs a bit embarrassed that the feeling of Mikey staring at you hadn’t left yet but you continued.

The lacy fabric rubbing against your clit made you mewl “Feel good huh?” You nodded at his question as your hips began to move faster and harder. You threw your head back as your cunt pulsed just wanting something to fill you up to the brim, just wanting Mikey to fill you to the brim. More than anything, that’s what you wanted from him. But he was right, you were his gift after all.

Mikey’s thumb drew circles on your hip noticing how you weren’t satisfying yourself just on his thigh. He saw it in your face. That pretty face that he loved to gaze at soooo much, your lips parted open dribbling out sobs of his name “Need help? Want me to touch you, pretty?” Mikey asked softly his hand inching below the skirt fabric just waiting for your approval. Fingers hovering over your clothed clit.

You nodded letting out a little uh huh!’s practically bucking your hips into his hand “Please touch me, Mikey!” His dick was rock hard in his pants at your words but he began working his fingers on your clit ignoring the pleasurable feeling of his tip dragging across the fabric of his boxers. He wanted to watch you make a mess all over him first but with how you were looking and moaning his name, he didn’t think he’d last until then.

“Oh my–I love you so much, Mikey…feels so…” You moaned barely able to speak from the overwhelming pleasure that felt like fireworks going off in your stomach. Leaning forward, you placed your forehead on his shoulder continuing to fuck yourself on his thigh now with his fingers assisting by rubbing figure 8’s on your bundle of nerves. Your panties were drenched and sticking to you, your slick probably leaking onto his leg leaving a wet patch on his pants.

Mikey felt dizzy. His mind only circulates you and how good you fucking looked right now. He wanted to be buried inside of you so badly right now, his tip hitting that little spongy spot inside of you that would make you shout his name so fucking loudly. He needed that. Right fucking now.

His fingers stopped their movement and both of his hands went to undo his belt “Mikey…” You whined, “C’mon pretty, can’t wait anymore.” Mikey said sliding his boxers and pants down just enough to free his cock from their confinements. His face was almost as red as his tip showing how horny he was.

You wasted no time crawling back on his lap and sliding your panties to the side shivering at the cold air hitting your pussy but the feeling was soothed when you lowered yourself onto Mikey’s dick taking inch by inch. His fat cock stretched your walls out as he bottomed out groaning at the feeling of your warmth tightening around him “So fucking tight.” Mikey muttered, his hands gripping your hips harsher as you backed away from his shoulder.

“Can I move? Please, please…” You requested desperately and with one nod coming from your boyfriend, you began to grind like you did on his thigh but it felt so much better now that he was filling you up. Mikey let his head go back groaning from how good it felt but it wasn’t enough. His grip on your waist got harder as he raised you just his tip still inside of you before slamming you right back down “Ah! Mikey!” You screeched at his mushroom tip hitting your cervix but Mikey paid you no mind only muttering out soft apologies that were meaningless.

You slowly began to bounce on his cock groaning at how he shuffled in his seat angling his hips so that he hit your g-spot “I love you, baby, makin’ me feel so fucking good.” Mikey muttered bringing his head to your neck to litter kisses all over your neck and color it a deep purple. His lips were brought down to the top of your tits putting hickeys all over there. An extreme difference from the white color that was tight around your tits. He just wanted to spurt his cum all over that lace. Barely able to tell the difference between the colors.

“Fuck…” You whined barely able to talk from how good it felt. Your back arched, hands going to his back and grabbing at his shirt balling up the fabric in your palms. You were so close, just a bit more and you’d cum with him. You felt him twitch inside you warning his orgasm.

Mikey gently moved down your bra allowing your tit to slide out so he could suckle at your nipple “You’re so pretty…love you so much.” Mikey said into your skin stammering over his words just a tad bit. His hands roamed around your body once again. Mikey loved to touch you. He loved your body, the way your skin felt, how you shivered under his touch because of his cold hands, the way you arched into him because his fingers grazed over your nipples.

Your body was so beautiful to him and being able to touch it was enough for him to cum on the spot “Gonna cum?” Mikey asked with a sweet voice and you nodded violently as you continued to bounce on his cock, skin slapping echoing throughout the large room “Yeah? Cum with me.” Mikey said delivering a harsh slap to your ass. That was leaving a mark.

You clawed at the back of his shirt yelling as you came all over his dick and as soon as you did that, mikey lifted you and came all on your stomach and chest. His ropes of cum landing on the white lace, the fabric of your skirt and all over your bare tummy that would’ve been full of that liquid if he didn’t have the strength to pull out.

His eyes wandered over your body admiring his work on the beautiful canvas that was your body. Once so bare, naked, nothing on it and was painted with the white that was almost an identical color to the white that wrapped around your tits and pussy.

“Such a beauitful mess.”

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

[strawberrystepmom]

pairing: Kenjaku x F!Reader, past Geto Suguru x F!Reader

word count: 3.6k

about: you become kenjaku's captive to ensure that he will not miss his opportunity to fight the strongest after his return from the prison realm. the temptation of being this close to the last remaining earthly fragment of the man you once loved, suguru, proves too much to resist and you give into your desires despite the hole they're bound to leave.

contents: NSFW - MINORS DNI. DARK CONTENT WARNING, MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS FOR CH 236 AND BEYOND | dubcon, manipulation, violence against reader, asphyxiation, kidnapping | reader is a sorcerer and went to school with geto and they had mutual feelings for one another, mentions of religion and references to god, kenjaku retained some of geto's memories and knows reader through them, reader has breasts and descriptions of vaginal anatomy are given, rough piv sex with little prep, reader is referred to as "girl", major character death (off screen).

notes: i've uh....been going through some things lately LMAO tbh i started this awhile back before thanksgiving but have felt weird about posting it and it very nearly stayed in the "between me and god" folder so i held back but today i said fuck it. if you read, thanks and i hope you enjoy!!!

header art is by jenny holzer and divider is by @/cafekitsune ♡

“The old occupant of this vessel was very fond of you, you know?”

How dare Kenjaku mention Suguru so casually, as if he were a tenant to his own flesh and bone instead of its rightful owner? 

“You know nothing about him,” The words are full of venom, flying from your mouth not unlike the way you spat at the curse user’s face two days prior to now. He chuckled when the fluid hit his cheek, wiping it off without a second thought. “Or me.” 

You felt so guilty for spitting at his face, the face of a man you once believed that you loved, that you wept until you began to dry heave atop the futon mattress in the room that has been designated as yours. It’s the same bed you rest on now, duvet over your knees that are hiked to your chest. It’s a means to protect yourself from any vulnerability but it’s truly no use. If Kenjaku wants to harm you, he will.

He has insisted your accommodations be comfortable since arriving three days ago given you are collateral and not a captive, his own clever wording for the situation, but you’re more than aware that if you were to attempt to escape from the cage that you’d hit the window just as all birds hungry for a taste of freedom do. There are no cuffs, chains, or bars but your freedom is no longer yours. It is a prize to be won pending the defeat of the man standing across from you in the doorway, shoji door open beside him, flowing hair as dark as the midnight sky brushing the backs of his elbows.

For years you wondered what you’d do if faced with Suguru again. Would you strike him, insisting he deserved it for all the hurt left in his wake? Ask him why in a scream so powerful your shoulders would shake with the weight of your fury? Perhaps you’d forgive him, as you’d been taught and encouraged to do your entire life, and those mumbled prayers cast to the God you believe in above you would be true for the first time since they’ve left your treacherous lips. 

“I forgive him, I hope you can, too.” You have begged God aloud and silently since sixteen years old. You have always been devout in your faith despite abandoning most of the tenets that make someone a believer, your lack of devotion not enough to deter you from selfishly asking for absolution for a man who you know deserves none.

God’s answer is clear when faced with the fact that this is not Geto standing in front of you. There is no less mercy a person can be shown than their body being used as a sick prop after their death.

The space where his thoughts and dreams and hopes used to lie is occupied by something far worse than just visions of a world purified through means of violence, a place where people like you could live without the threat of death and sacrifice to keep others safe. Granted, that wasn’t exactly a noble purpose either, but at least it didn’t threaten your life the way that whatever lives inside of his skull does now.

“I know more about both of you than you think.” 

Kenjaku’s words drip with smugness and your stomach flips. The natural responses of your body to a man who looks and sounds just like Suguru make you sick but you cannot focus on fighting them off and keeping yourself protected at the same time, you have to simply make peace with the butterflies in your stomach that feels like something is punching you in the gut over and over again. He dares enter the room and you scoot further up the futon, hitting the wall behind you and leveling a glare in his direction.

Suguru’s body reacts to you, as well, something that Kenjaku planned long ago to use to his advantage. It started with hazy dreams, a face he recognized as yours drifting through them, your thighs and your lips and your skirt. It’s a version of you a little younger, a little warmer - less edgy than you are now. You are sharp and finely tuned to harm while the version of you that lived in Geto’s mind will forever stay soft, a freshly unfurled rose.

“All you’ve done is vandalize him,” you accuse and he shrugs, dressed in a cotton yukata rather than the robes he stole in addition to the body they dressed. It’s easy to imagine another life where this is Suguru and you are you and he’s coming to your shared bedside, kneeling on the ground the same way Kenjaku is now while he invites himself to the only space you currently have as your own.

“You’re a smart girl, don’t play dumb.” Your glance moves from the doorway to him, disgusted by how brave he is getting this close to you. “Perhaps I’m simply using the power this body holds in the way he was too cowardly to attempt.”

Despite your current state of sitting in nothing but a yukata yourself, you are physically strong from spending the last decade of your life as nothing more than a glorified weapon to use in the fight against evil. Even if your Cursed Technique would be unlikely to have any effect on the man, you could be a difficult problem for him if you wanted to be, yet you sit and do nothing but wait and refuse to respond to his words. He chuckles at your stubbornness and reaches across the bed and your body to grab your chin between his thumb and index finger. He shifts your head until you’re staring directly at him and a smile crosses his lips.

You do not fight him off.

“Tell me, sorcerer,” he starts and you swallow, bottom lip quivering. You want to reach out and slap him away, to scream and kick but your body stays still, the only place blood is pooling between your legs and in the heat of your face. “Where are those teeth and claws you were so eager to show me on your first night here?”

He reaches his thumb upward and presses it against your mouth, stopping the shake with a single touch - your body’s natural reaction to a man you are now certain you loved, given it’s the only explanation for your behavior. It’s a form of trust, the muscle memory of a kiss he gave you in your dorm room at the school you once shared. The first night you were spitting and hissing, now you’re so placid.

“Nothing to say for yourself?”

Stubbornly, you shake your head and Kenjaku chuckles again, pulling his thumb away from your lip but maintaining the grip on your chin. You know this is not Suguru, it’s as clear as the stitches across the forehead of the practically empty vessel that further closes in on you. He moves silently until he’s mere inches away from you, his head hovering over your knees that are still pulled against your chest. You watch him with narrowed eyes, tucking against yourself tighter than you ever have as a means of comfort, but it does nothing to stop him from lingering.

“I could just make you speak if I wanted to,” he warns. The power in this situation belongs to him.

“What’s the point of fighting you? You’re going to do whatever you want with me anyway.” You admit, defeated. Whatever fight you had left in you was smothered weeks ago during the attack on Shibuya. Even the release of Gojo is not enough to fill you with hope for the future. It’s pointless to keep fighting when the only outcome is going to be loss.

The shaky sound of your voice makes the curse user move closer to you and you shut your eyes tightly, refusing to look at him lest your body continue with these inexplicable natural responses. Heart pounding against your chest, it’s inexplicably frustrating that it cannot seem to separate what your brain knows is true from what your body wants to believe.

It isn’t him, you scream within the confines of your own mind but it does not prevent your palms from feeling clammy and the squeeze of your inner thighs against each other to provide some relief against the heat in your core.

It isn’t him. It isn’t him. It isn’t him…

Chanting the words internally, you open your eyes and are met with a pair of golden ones staring directly at you. They’re the same that stared at you in a dorm room a decade ago although they’re missing the warmth they had back then, dripping honey sweetness hidden in the irises turned to tar. 

“You’re right, I can.” He nods and dark hair falls over his eyes, catching your eye. Your stomach turns when you spot the stitches across his forehead but your gaze returns to his so quickly you can hardly think about it. “But will it be what I want or is it what this body desires, I wonder?”

This piques your interest and Kenjaku tilts his head to the side inquisitively, dark hair sweeping over your knees and around your body. It feels like a curtain, a veil like the ones you are so used to using to keep people safe and ignorant and outside of your world of sorcery.

“What do you mean?”

A smirk is the response you are granted and he moves closer to you, one of his hands reaching for the duvet you’re using to cover you. Pulling it back gently, your robe covered body coming into view and once again, you make no effort to fight. With this barrier removed, he runs his palm over the outside of your thigh. Muffling your whimper at the touch, you attempt to hide your face in your shoulder but he stops you, still grasping onto your chin and still holding your gaze.

“Interesting.” 

His hand travels from the outside of your thigh to the insides and you gently spread them to allow him access before realizing what he’s searching for. Attempting to cut off his access by closing your legs, he holds your thigh in place and lets his fingers dip lower along the soft skin. You quiver and shake beneath him like a leaf clinging to the branches of a tree in winter, desperate for somewhere to remain, and those fingers inch closer and closer to your core. He stops when he feels the coarse hair covering your mound and dares to dip a single fingertip between your folds, raising his eyebrows when he feels the arousal seeping from you. 

“I knew it,” he whispers so low you wonder if you were even meant to hear it but the way he gazes at you, like that of a man starved, tells you that the words were meant for no one but you.

Your hand shakes as much as the rest of you when you finally lift it from your side, reaching out to him and taking a strand of hair between your fingers. It feels just as you imagined it would, silk between your digits, and a breathy sigh leaves you before you begin to cry. Dropping the small strand, you choose to reach out toward his forehead and use your hand to block the stitches covering it.

“Suguru.”

You babble the name like it is precious, your lip quivering just as it did before, and the evil man shakes his head, capturing your wrist with the hand he just removed from your chin. He lowers your hand enough that you can see the stitches unobscured.

“Kenjaku, actually.” 

He lowers your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles, amused when you squirm where you sit, practically delirious with lust and confusion. You do not want this, at least that’s what you tell yourself while parting your legs further and panting, chest heaving with every breath.

Wordlessly, he uses his free hand to untie your robe and it falls off of your shoulders, exposing you to him fully before he can blink. This is something he remembers seeing in one of those dreams but you look different than whatever the imagination of a man who was infatuated with you was able to come up with during his loneliest hours. It amuses Kenjaku that he is the one to see you like this, bare and willing. 

Tracing down your belly and lower, he stops between your legs which makes you whimper. You’re so desperate to be touched, to pretend he is someone you’ll never have the opportunity to love as properly as you could have if you’d both lived a different life, that your hips actually arch off of the bed eagerly. It should embarrass you but you are past the point of humiliation, willing to be fucked by evil incarnate just for the sake of a taste of Suguru Geto.

“Pathetic little thing,” he coos and you say nothing in return. You’re well aware of your failings as a sorcerer and a human being as his fingers spread your labia to get a glance at what you have to offer. For a moment, you consider praying for Suguru again; to selfishly beg God to make sense of your own actions but you know that he no longer has mercy for an ill behaved member of his flock. You will simply accept the consequences, whatever they will be.

His thumb brushes your clit and you moan, tipping your head back and toward the ceiling. You wait for the sensation of pleasure to climb through you again but it doesn’t come until you look downward again, eyes fluttering open.

“Eyes on me or you get nothing.”

Too afraid to look away lest it keep you from the only good thing you’ve felt in who knows how long, you keep your eyes glued to Kenjaku’s face while his hand works between your legs, spreading the slick from your cunt toward your clit and back down. If you could just shut your eyes, you could pretend, but they’re open and glued between your legs, watching every feathery stroke of his fingers through your folds.

Kenjaku’s cock hardens against your thigh and for a moment you dare to feel powerful knowing you aren’t the only one surrendering to the most base of your needs. He drops your hand and reaches for the tie of his robe, opening it and giving you the only look you’ve ever been lucky enough to get of Suguru’s bare body.

Scarred, honed, a tool - just like yours. If you weren’t so lost in the moment, the lifetimes you have imagined for years would be playing through your mind.

You gasp and knit your brows together, bucking against the increasing pressure of Kenjaku’s fingers while he brings you back to him and out of your head. Whatever you’re thinking about doesn’t matter when he inserts a finger inside of you, only testing how wet you are with no intention of preparing you for his cock. 

When he’s satisfied with how wet you are, he withdraws his finger and you whine. The sound is the most he has heard from you since the first night and it makes his eyes widen in interest. He shifts until he is standing between your spread knees and the realization that this is really happening hits you at once, your face flaming with desire.

“You’re so impatient.” 

The curse user tuts at you with a roll of his eyes and spreads your legs as wide as they can go to accommodate the width of his body. He’s broad in shoulder and hip and you bite your lower lip when he runs the head of his cock through your folds, following the same pattern of his fingers. You expect the teasing to last longer but it stops abruptly. Before you can take a breath to prepare yourself, his cock is buried to the hilt inside of you, and you gasp with wide eyes, shocked. 

“As good as you imagined?”

Words come to your mind but do not form enough to leave your mouth while he thrusts roughly, your body jerking violently against his. It’s painful, the size of him with little prep in conjunction with how he uses your body as nothing more than a glorified place to take his aggression out, but all of the numbness within you thaws and for the first time since you realized Geto was no longer Geto in Shibuya, you feel. 

It’s hard to name all the emotions you are experiencing because they blur into something barely comprehensible. Pleasure and pain and bone chilling sorrow, the kind that makes tears silently drip down your face while he takes what he wants from you. He doesn’t bother to play with your clit and there is no need to, the joy you’re taking simply from being used by Suguru’s body enough that the knot inside of you is slowly beginning to unravel. 

Skin on skin punctuated by his low grunts and your whines fill the small room and you are so lost, you lift yourself halfway up to meet Kenjaku and consider kissing him. Would it be close enough to kissing Suguru that you could eventually justify it or would it just sully the one good memory you have of him? 

You don’t have long to think about it before you are pushed back down to the bed, one of his hands caging your throat and keeping you pinned to the bed below. A reminder that this is for his pleasure and not yours although you feel yourself coming closer to the edge than you were just moments prior, shutting your eyes tightly. All of the motion inside of you stops, the hard thrusts of his cock ending, and your eyes shoot open.

“Remember what I said. Eyes on me or you get nothing.”

Nodding, you keep them open and he begins again, pace rougher than before. You can do nothing but grunt and struggle to breathe, his cock carving out space inside of you that didn’t exist until he entered you. Every kiss of his tip against your insides knocks the breath out of you and finally you cum in a strangled moan, walls quivering around his length. 

His hand inches further up your throat and squeezes experimentally. As expected, you do not fight back and he takes his indulgence with a grin, choking you with varying degrees of pressure and feeling your cunt spasm around him when he surprises you by tightening his grip. 

You like this. You want this.

He leans forward and shifts his weight to his arm and hand, finally spilling inside of you with a deep moan. Warmth fills every inch of you and you wish that you felt as full in your heart as you do in your cunt but a void remains.

Kenjaku’s other hand slides up your body and wraps around your neck, both of his palms resting on either side of your neck and fingers splaying over your throat. It’s dangerous to let him have this much access to any part of you that he could possibly crush but you do not move, tearfully looking up at him and sniffling. He increases his pressure, not enough to harm you, but enough to make you work hard and you realize how easily he could just…end this.

“Please kill me,” you beg while struggling to breathe, realizing what you’ve done now that the afterglow of orgasm can no longer protect you from the cold hard truth. 

You are a betrayer. You slept with the enemy to sate your own selfish desires and death seems almost too kind to beg for, yet you do.

“Kill me.”

Your face turns in shade and your vision is dotted with darkness, a miserable end to a miserable life you consider, but at least it will be over. The pressure of Kenjaku’s hands around your neck continues to increase until you are certain you are taking your last breath, lungs aching until he abruptly stops. He glances down from where he rests above you, half swollen cock softening and letting his cum leak out around the tip of it that is still inside of you and onto the sheets below. 

“I will not give you the satisfaction of death until you give me the satisfaction of watching you fight for it.” 

Removing his hands from around your throat completely, he glances down at the pressure indentions of his fingers with a smile. Your eyes flutter shut, you’ve passed out from lack of air, and he admires the heap he has left you in, reaching for your robe and wiping the remnants of his release and yours on the corner of it.

Nobody is coming to save you, a secret Kenjaku knows that you are not yet aware of. Satoru Gojo is dead, defeated at the hands of Sukuna. The news broke this morning and he was preparing to come to your room to let you know until this little distraction occurred. He had an inkling you were susceptible to Suguru Geto’s charms even from beyond the grave but he had no idea it would be this easy, your slumped form resting on the futon beside him. He pats your head as one would a treasured dog, long and loving strokes that do not stir you, your bare breasts swaying slightly with every breath you take.

The new world is on the horizon and he may keep you around as a plaything for a little longer than he originally intended.

[lees-chaotic-brain]

A hopeful fan's suggestion for a fic:

Song: 'Streetfight' - Smallpools

Character: Gojo

Genre: Angst

🙃

summary: you've always been there for him, but he doesn't realize until it's too late

cw: underage drinking (like one paragraph mention), alcohol consumption (briefly in beginning), gojo's a bit of an asshole, some swearing, korean word used in a japanese dessert because idk the japanese word, self-depreciation, reader has reverse cursed technique, reader is a little pushy, blood, implied panic attack sorta, not canon compliant, major character death, gojo is a little ooc in the beginning, spoilers, angst, hurt/minimal comfort

wc: 6.4k (holy fuck)

note: hi anon. again, sorry this took so long. i'm unsure about how i feel about this, but i hope you enjoy it. this is formatted a little differently than the rest of the song fics, but i hope that's okay!! to everyone else who is awaiting a request: i promise it will get done at some point i just need to finish all of my event fics, and all my swapped extras, then i'll be back on track. thank you for being so patient with me <3

you can listen to this while reading, however the beat and tune itself is a little upbeat for the tone of this fic so i would recommend listening to it before/after reading!!

Event Guide | Event Masterlist | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

January 9, 2018, 4:03 AM

The stale air reminds you of how deep under the surface you are, constricting your lungs. The ropes chafe at your wrists, and you’ve long since given up on staving off your boredom by counting the endless talismans covering the walls. Leaning back in the chair, you attempt to breathe. To forget that tons of earth are surrounding you, to ignore the oppressive weight of the talismans crushing your cursed energy. 

Looking back, you’re not sure when your admiration for your upperclassman had shifted from admiration and respect to something deeper. Perhaps it was the first time you noticed he wasn’t invincible. That he was human and struggled too. Or maybe it was when you shared your cheap supermarket candy with him, not expecting anything in return, only to be pleasantly surprised when he shared his expensive daifuku with you a few days later.

It could have been even later than that, when the reality of being a jujutsu sorcerer hit your little group without warning and you realized just how fragile Satoru was. But as waves of memories crash over you it was unimportant exactly when it happened. Succumbing to their pull, you sink into their peaceful blue depths, allowing the ebb and flow of the past to drag you away. 

January 1, 2006, 12:07 AM

Stumbling out of the second year’s dorm, the welcome sensation of the cold winter night washed over your flushed skin. You had counted down the new year just a few minutes ago and needed a break from taking shots with Shoko seeing as your upperclassman could outdrink you any day. 

Probably a little too tipsy to climb up to your favorite spot on top of the dorms you instead opt to take a short walk through the gardens, hoping the fresh air and sharp bite of the air would help you sober up. The silvery moonlight filters down through clouds that promise a snowy morning, barely illuminating the stone path beneath your feet.

Passing by a side path that leads to a small grassy clearing you pause, backing up. There, sprawled on his back with his blindfold removed, lay Gojo Satoru staring up at the sky. The innate beauty of the sight stuns you. His hair gleams as the moonlight highlights the pure white of his hair, and his eyes glitter, crystalline and sharp.

Your breath leaves you as you marvel at his otherworldly appearance before you approach him, laying down beside him on the frozen grass with a crisp crunch. Staring up at the navy sky scattered with stars you don’t say anything for a couple of moments.

“It’s a New Year.” You’re surprised he speaks first, but listen quietly, breath puffing in plumes of white before drifting away and disappearing. “It’s a New Year yet I’m not excited.”

Mulling over his words for a moment, you reply. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing. But do you want to talk about why?”

His hesitation is palpable so you continue. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But if you do, I promise that it’ll stay between us.”

"It's just...I’m a year closer to graduating now, and I don't want to graduate. As soon as I graduate I'll officially be the honored one. The strongest sorcerer. The one expected to protect everyone. But I don't have a domain expansion and I barely have control over my cursed technique. I don't care about what the stupid higher ups think but..."

"But?" You prompted gently, turning your head to look over at him. As if sensing you gaze, he turns his head as well, meeting your eyes.

"But I don't want to let you guys down." He looks a little embarrassed. "Suguru, You, Shoko, Nanami, Principal Yaga, and Haibara. Oh, and Utahime I guess. I really really really don't want to disappoint you."

You sigh, and he sees your expression soften. "It may not be my place to say anything, but I don't think any of us would be disappointed in you no matter what you did. The higher ups and others may see you as the honored one, but to us you're just Gojo, our fun, sometimes obnoxious, classmate."

He snorts at that and you smile, relieved that it seemed to make him feel better. "Thank you." He says sincerely. "I really appreciate it."

"O-of course!" You stammer, flustered by his gratitude. "It was nothing, really. If you ever feel like that again you can come talk to me if you'd like."

He flashes his signature smirk, but it lacks its usual cockiness. "That would be nice. I'll keep it in mind."

With an endearing mixture of ease and awkward clumsiness he climbs to his feet, brushing himself off. "Well, I'm headed back in. Maybe you should stay out here and cool off a little longer. You're looking a little red."

Winking cheekily, he disappears in the direction of the dorm leaving you lying on the grass blushing furiously. A cold prick hits the side of your face, and when you turn to look up at the sky you notice it began to snow.

And despite the frozen flurries lazily drifting down before landing on you and stealing your heat, your chest feels warm and fuzzy. Maybe next time he needs to talk to someone he will come to you. Maybe he would allow you to be there with him. Maybe next time you would have a longer conversation.

Absorbed in your maybes and hopes for the future, you had no way of knowing this was the last time he would be open and let his vulnerability show.

May 14, 2006, 3:01 PM

The mood is strange as your group of five finally enter the barrier surrounding jujutsu high. On one hand, everyone is relieved to have finally reached safety, but on the other hand…

You glance over at Riko Amanai, the lively girl you had gotten to know over the past few days. It isn’t fair. She was only a year or so younger than you and yet for some perverse reason the universe had decided that her duty was to sacrifice herself and die.

Lost in your thoughts, you vaguely hear Gojo saying something stupid about never babysitting a kid again and Riko responding indignantly. 

It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair. It isn’t- 

Schlick

The wet sound of a blade running through flesh snaps you out of your thoughts, and you slowly turn, looking to your left. A long, vicious looking blade protrudes from the center of Gojo’s chest, the dark blue fabric of his uniform slowly turning a deep purple as his blood seeps into it.

Time freezes as you struggle to process what you’re seeing. You don’t understand. You made it within the barrier. You should be safe. So how-

Your breathing quickens as you try to make yourself move. Gojo is using weird, unnecessary metaphors to explain how he managed to save himself from the stab wound and telling Geto to leave, to take Riko and go. Your body still refuses to respond. Why are you so useless? Why can’t you-

Geto yells your name. “Stay here and look after Satoru! If something happens and he gets badly hurt you’re the only one who can help him. I’m counting on you!”

With that he’s gone, leaving you with the stranger with the scar on his lower lip, and Gojo, who’s muttering under his breath about how Geto must have no faith in him, assuming he’s going to get hurt like that. He’s gone and they’re fighting and-

Blood. There’s so much blood.

The man who did this is gone, not even bothering to go after you as you pose no threat to him. But Gojo, Gojo is on the ground, lying in a rapidly expanding pool of his own blood. A strange garbled sound falls out of your mouth, and you’re scrambling towards him, scraping the skin off your knees as you kneel at his side.

One glance is enough to tell you that you don’t have the amount of reverse cursed energy or skill that you would need to save him. But you had to do something. You couldn’t just leave him to die. 

“Gojo!” You yell at him as you place your hands over the gaping hole in his throat, blood spurting out from between your fingers. “Remember when Shoko and I tried to teach you how to use reverse cursed technique? Do you remember? Can you try to help me?”

Tears stream down your face as you push energy into him, slowly knitting the muscle and tendon in his throat back together. Already you could feel the toll healing him was taking on you, and your progress was too slow.

“Gojo! If you don’t figure it out you’re going to die. Hurry up, damnit!!” You sob, hoping against all hope that a miracle will occur and he’ll figure it out before the little time you are buying him with your healing runs out and he dies. 

Just as you’re about to lose hope, to give in and accept that you aren’t good for anything, that you can’t even heal a couple of wounds and save a life, the blood seeping through your fingers slows before stopping. With bated breath you pull your hands away and reveal…nothing.

Smooth, unmarred skin greets you, no sign of the gaping wound that was there only seconds ago. A quick glance down reveals that the stab wound in his chest is gone too. You know you weren’t responsible for his rapid recovery, so that could only mean-

“Gojo?” Your voice is quiet as you tentatively wave your hand over his eyes. “You in there? I can’t believe you figured out how to use reversed cursed technique on yourself that fast! You really are insanely talented!”

He opens his eyes, and you can just tell that something is wrong. For one, any emotion or sign of the upperclassman you so cherished was gone, replaced with an empty mask, devoid of all feeling. For another, his eyes were glowing. Glowing so bright it almost hurt to look at them.

“...Gojo?” You reach for him hesitantly, but he just stares right through you, almost like he’s looking at something in the distance beyond you. Your fingers only barely brush the dirty, torn fabric of his uniform before he appears to glitch, and disappears without a word.

Sitting back on your heels, you gaze in shock at where he had been only seconds before, unable to stop the sickening feeling crawling along your insides, telling you nothing will ever be the same again. 

August 03, 2007, 11:23 am

If the death of Amanai Riko just over a year ago was your polite -albeit cold- introduction to death, then the death of Haibara Yu is an unwanted guest barging into your house and forcefully familiarizing itself with you.

Of the six members of your ragtag group of second and third years Yu was by far the best person, beloved by all. His death probably hit Kento the hardest as they were the closest, but everybody felt the hole left by his death.

In the immediate weeks after you didn’t have time to question about what happened or think about how your upperclassmen were faring. You were stuck in an endless loop of caring for Kento; convincing him to eat, making sure he takes care of himself, telling him to keep on living. Caring for him took a decent amount of your time, and the rest of it was spent having breakdowns in your room and trying to hide the fact that you were having said breakdowns. You couldn’t be falling apart. You didn’t have much worth as a jujutsu sorcerer, you couldn’t help them much in a fight, but you could be there for them as a classmate and friend. If you couldn’t you were just useless all around.

Somewhere around when it had been a month since Yu’s death, you thought of Gojo. Gojo, who had told you a little over a year and a half ago about the pressure he felt to protect everyone. To not let anyone down. And once that thought occurred to you, it hung around in the back of your mind, a constant presence reminding you that Gojo could be suffering, that he may be blaming himself for all of this and no one was there to tell him it wasn’t his fault. So one day you went looking for him.

He was a relatively predictable person, so after checking his dorm, then the common area, then the training grounds, you were almost positive he was in the garden. The very spot where he had opened up to you for the first time. And sure enough, when you had picked your way through the overgrown foliage lush with summer you found him in the same position he was then; lying on his back and gazing up at the sky.

Quietly, you make your way over to him, flopping down onto the grass beside him. Getting comfortable, you take a moment to speak, and are caught off guard when he addresses you first.

“Hey.”

He speaks, not sounding surprised to see you. Well, of course he wasn’t. He probably sensed your cursed energy as soon as you started heading in this direction. Annoying jerk.

“Hey.” Fluffy clouds drift by overhead. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” He answers in his normal overly cheerful tone. “What about you?”

A dry laugh escapes you before you can hold it back. “Hanging in there. Are you sure you’re okay? I just wanted to check in. You know, no matter what anyone else says or what you expect of yourself you couldn’t have-”

“I told you I was fine.” He interrupts, sitting up and ruffling your hair. You protest, sitting up and batting his hands away as he just laughs. “Don’t be such a worry wart. I can see the exhaustion on your face. Go get some sleep. Seriously. You look half dead.”

“Wow, just what every girl wants to hear.” You roll your eyes. “You flatter me, Gojo.”

“I know I know.” He grins at you. “Now, I’ve got important third year duties to attend to so I’ve gotta scram. See ya!”

With that, he’s gone, vanished to who knows where. Flopping back down onto the grass, you consider taking a nap outside hoping the fresh air would do you some good. It was a beautiful day, after all, and Gojo had told you to get some rest. But every time you close your eyes, all you can see is the grin on Gojo’s face. It’s large and toothy, and if you didn’t know him as well as you did you would think it was real. 

You would think it was real, except you know him well enough to tell that behind those tinted glasses, his smile doesn’t reach his tired, bloodshot eyes.

September 28, 2008, 2:36 PM

As soon as you heard the news you went to find him, knowing that he was in pain. Following Shoko’s directions and ignoring her warnings about leaving him be. If he needed to be alone you would leave. If he needed someone to lash out at, you would sit there and take it. If he needed someone to cry on, you would offer him your shoulder.

Whatever it was that he needed in this moment, you would be that for him. But you weren’t about to let him be alone at a time like this. Not when he just lost his best friend. You knew you were no replacement for Geto, and that it was selfish of you to go looking for him if he did truly want to be alone. But on the off chance that he did need someone, you couldn’t just leave him be.

Just as Shoko said you would, you found him sitting on the stairs leading up to Jujutsu Tech. He’s manspread, his elbows propped on his knees as he gazes out at Tokyo sprawled out below. 

“What is it?” His voice is empty and monotonous, so unlike his usual cheer. “Do you need something?”

“I, uh.” You flounder, words leaving you. What were you even supposed to say? “No. I don’t need anything.”

Slowly, you make your way down the stairs until you’re only a few steps away and pause. “I just wanted to ask if you need anything.”

“If I need anything?” He parrots, scoffing. “If I need something? Yeah I need something. I need my best fucking friend that’s what I need.”

You wince, the vitriol and anger in his voice apparent. Shoko was right. He was clearly struggling and needed space. You made a mistake in coming here.

“Of course. I’m sorry for coming here, I should have just left you alone.” You start to head back up the stairs and hesitate. “Just know, if you ever need something, anything really, I’m here for you. We all are. You don’t have to shoulder this burden alone.”

Having said what you needed to, you begin the climb back up to the entrance of the school, pausing when you hear him spit your name. You turn around, waiting for him to say more.

“You seem to believe that you, Shoko, and Nanami are capable of helping me and supporting me.” He spits the words at you, and you’re stunned by the quiet rage and despair that laces them. “But you aren’t. Simply because you guys aren’t strong enough. You don’t have enough talent. You will never understand what it is like to wield the strength and power that Suguru and I do. He is the only one that can even begin to understand the burden I carry. So don’t be presumptuous to assume that you can do anything for me.”

You open your mouth, your words sticking in your throat as you struggle to find your voice. He’s right, after all. You’re weak and useless. Who were you to think that you could do anything for him? “Gojo, I-”

The chime of his phone going off interrupts you, and he pulls it out of his pocket to check it. Standing abruptly, he shoves his phone back into his pocket, not even sparing a glance back at you. “Sorry. They’ve spotted him. I’ll be leaving now.” 

And yet again, he uses his technique to warp space, disappearing before your eyes. You’re left standing there alone as the wind whips at your hair, gazing at the city that you’re sworn to protect as a jujutsu sorcerer. 

Gojo was right. Not once have you been able to help anyone. At best you’ve managed to stay out of the way, and at worst your weakness caused trouble and put others in danger. You were worthless. You stand there silently for a long time trapped in a spiral of self-loathing and helplessness before you head back to the school, retiring to your dorm.

Later that night, when you’re washing your face and getting ready for bed you look in the mirror and stop. The look on your face, the look of self-hatred and worthlessness accompanied by the deep bags under your eyes and the unhealthy pallor of your skin is strangely familiar. You suck in a breath.

That’s right. This is the expression Gojo wore when you spoke to him earlier. That’s where you had seen it before.

December 27, 2017, 11:54 PM

“Hey.”

You flick on the lights, bathing Gojo’s apartment in a warm glow. After no one had heard from him in a few days, you finally went to check on him at your students' behest. All of them expressed concern for him in one way or another, wanting to know if he was okay so you finally gave in and said you would go check on him. 

He uses the same password for everything, so guessing the pin to his apartment was easy enough, although you weren’t sure what to expect when you actually saw him. Almost ten years have passed since the last time you tried to have a real conversation with Gojo, and as the last one didn’t exactly go well you weren’t eager to approach him with the same topic.

He was sprawled on an obnoxiously large couch in the main space when you entered, blindfold draped haphazardly over his face but at the sound of your voice he startled and sat up. You frowned.

That was strange. He should have been able to sense your cursed energy from miles away. Him being caught off guard by you meant he must be really out of it. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you.” You’re hesitant, slowly approaching him. Smiling awkwardly, you hold up the bag of daifuku (a favorite of both of you) that you picked up on your way here. “I brought sweets. You want some?”

You half expect him to tell you to get lost, so you’re surprised when you find yourself sitting beside him on the couch, silently sharing the mochi. Taking advantage of the quiet you survey his apartment, your chest aching at how empty and cold it is. It doesn’t look like anyone lives here, and you suspect this is the first time he’s spent the night here in months. You wouldn’t be surprised if you were the first person to enter this place other than him since he bought it.

“So.” You fidget with the soft treat in your hands, thick, dark red patso oozing out from the center when you squish it. “The first years are doing well. I was able to patch up Inumaki’s throat and head injury pretty easily while Ieri took care of Maki. Panda’s fine too. Yaga has him good as new. Oh, and Yuuta is closer to them than ever, I-”

“I’m assuming you didn’t just come to share daifuku with me.” He chirps, cramming another one of the sweets into his mouth whole. “I’ve seen you eat your weight in these and you threatened to castrate me the last time I tried to steal some of your daifuku. What’s up?”

“Okay first of all, that was almost a decade ago, get over it.” You shoot him a look, taking a bite of mochi. Normally the combination of the thick, sweetened patso and the stretchy, chewy glutinous rice cake was your favorite, but today it just tasted like a sticky mouthful of nothing. “Second of all I’m here because the first years are worried about you, and I am too. How are you holding up?”

“Me?” He laughs, the sound grating on you. “I’m perfectly fine. I just needed a day off to rest my eyes. I get that you all love and need me so much but can’t a man take a day off every now and again? Ah, the struggles of being important.”

“Gojo.” Your voice is quiet, but deathly serious. “Drop the act.”

“What act?” He reaches for another sweet, biting into it. The sticky smack of the rice cake separating from itself as his teeth sink into it makes you slightly nauseous. “Oh, are you talking about Geto? I’m not too torn up about it. I mean, he left what, eight, nine years ago now? He was practically a stranger at this point.”

“Then why did you tell Yuuta that he was the only friend you ever had?” When the sweet, floppy haired first year told you that you had almost started crying in front of him. “Did killing your best friend really mean nothing to you? How can you say you’re okay?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, popping another bite of daifuku into his mouth. “I dunno. But really, there’s no need for you to be so concerned. This doesn’t involve you-”

“How can you say that?!” You’re shaking, unable to hold back any longer. “You are the most selfish, self-absorbed person I have ever met! There’s no need for me to be concerned? This doesn't involve me? Did it ever occur to you that he was my friend too?”

Embarrassingly, tears blur your vision and you blink furiously to hold them back. “What about Ieri? Is this none of her business? All this time you’ve acted like you were the only one who lost him. You seem to forget that Ieri was in your year as well. That there were three of you, not two.”

The daifuku pops in your fist, sticky sweet filling smearing across your palm. Despite the white wrapping loosely draped over his eyes you knew that he wasn’t even looking at you as he calmly reached for another rice cake. That was your last straw.

You snatch the styrofoam tray away from him and hurl it against the nearest wall with all your might, unable to express your rage and hurt in any other way. The force of your throw sends bits of exploded rice cake and red bean paste flying around the room, splattering on everything. 

Silence falls over the room, and neither of you move. Then, infuriatingly, he barks out a laugh.

“You’ve gotten a lot stronger. I’m impressed. You must have worked hard.”

“Yeah, yeah I did.” You take a deep breath and make your way towards the door. Pausing with one foot outside, you look back. “Come find me when you’re ready to stop being an asshole. We’ll talk then.”

With that being said you disappear out the door, leaving him behind for the first (but not last) time. 

January 8, 2018, 12:03 PM

Absentmindedly swirling your stupidly expensive chai latte, you watch as eddies of milky foam spiral into fragrant chai. Across from you, a certain white haired man stuffs himself awkwardly into the booth, the cozy corner it’s located in not exactly tall-people friendly. 

“Did you deliberately choose the smallest booth in here?” Gojo huffs, rearranging his bunched limbs under the table. His leg presses against yours. “Long time no see. How have you been?”

“It’s been less than two weeks.” You sigh, setting down your mug and crossing your legs, severing your contact with him. “But I’ve been good.

You pointedly don’t ask how he’s been, and he doesn’t tell you, not that he would have had you asked. “I’m sorry I was an asshole. You were right.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Is there anything else you want me to say? I don’t want to give you excuses.”

“You’re actually the biggest idiot I’ve ever met. Listen.” You lock eyes with him, holding his gaze. “While I would obviously prefer it if you just opened up to me completely, I would also be overjoyed if you gave me excuses because it would mean that you cared enough about my impression of you to try and fix it. But you have never once tried to explain yourself to me, or Ieri, or Kento. How do you think that makes us feel?”

He at least has the decency to look abashed. “I-I’m sorry. I never thought about it that way.” He clears his throat. “I never wanted to force you guys to share my burden. I realize I was wrong and that I was only making things worse by shutting you out.”

“Do you really?” Your gaze is intense, and he can’t help but admire the fire shining in the depths of your beautiful eyes. “I do. Truly. Can I…Can I talk to you about something?”

“I’ve been telling you, that’s literally all I want you to do.”

—-----------------------------------------

Hours later, you stare at Gojo’s retreating form, the warmth from his parting embrace still lingering on your body. Adrenaline is buzzing in your veins, your brain running a million miles a minute. Gojo was planning on killing the higher up. Gojo was planning to kill the higher ups. And he had trusted you enough to tell you about his plans.

Holy fuck.

Flopping onto your bed the instant you get inside, you stare up at the uneven drywall of your ceiling. Gojo is going to kill the higher ups, and when he does it will send jujutsu society spiraling. Some will support him wholly out of fear or respect. Some will attempt to put him on trial for his crimes. And some will attempt to cozy up to him in an attempt to gain power. 

Rolling over onto your side, you bend your arm and rest your head in the crook of your elbow, closing your eyes. Wouldn’t it be better if he just hired someone to kill the higher ups? No, because if they were traced back to him it would only make things worse. Honestly it would be best if he wasn’t involved at all. 

The faces of the second years and little Megumi (well, he wasn’t so little anymore) flash in your mind's eye. They need him. He’s the only one who is guaranteed to be able to protect them. He is their best chance at having a bright future.

 Mulling over your options, you briefly consider hiring assassins yourself but quickly dismiss the idea. There was no guarantee they would be able to kill the higher ups. In the last few years you were able to rise to a grade one sorcerer -and one of the more powerful ones at that- but even you wouldn’t have a chance at taking out all of them unless you caught them by surprise. 

Wait. That was it. It wasn’t guaranteed but if you plan accordingly you like your odds. Gojo had done so much for all of you over the last decade and finally it was your chance to repay him and show him that you were useful. That your training had paid off. The only problem was, he didn’t tell you when he planned to kill them. Which means if you want to make sure you get to them before he does…

You have to come up with a strategy, prepare, and take out the higher ups tonight. 

January 9, 2018, 4:54 AM

Gojo swears his heart stops beating for a few seconds as he stares at Principal Yaga in shock. “She did what?”

As his teacher speaks, Gojo is aware of the words leaving Yaga’s lips, but there is a strange disassociation between the syllables he speaks and their meaning as Gojo’s ears ring. After a few minutes of numb questions interspersed with stunned silence he understands enough of what happened and is gone.

He’s not sure how, exactly, he managed to figure out and get to where you are (Yaga must have pulled some strings) and everything is one confusing blur of gray until the door to the catacomb you’re being held in swings open. Then he sees you, bound to a chair and disheveled, the bruises marring your skin stark in the soft glow of the talismans. Yet somehow, he finds you as beautiful as ever.

“Who is-” You lift your head, and your eyes widen when you see him. “Gojo? What are you doing here?”

“Me? What am I doing here?” He shakes his head in incredulity. “Why are you here? Also, why wouldn’t I be here?”

“Because I’m basically a dead woman and associating with me will only cause you more trouble, especially after they’re done disposing of me.”

“No. Don’t say that.” He shakes his head in denial, his brow furrowed in determination. “I’m not going to let them execute you. Don’t worry I-“

“Gojo.” Your voice echoes through the chamber, and he falls silent, hair falling across his forehead and obscuring his eyes. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not!” His long legs carry him across the limited space as he paces agitatedly, anger in his voice. “How are you okay with dying? Actually, never mind. I don’t want to hear you say anything.”

Spinning, he faces you and for the first time since he entered he makes eye contact with you. His heart skips a beat when your eyes meet his, fire still blazing in the depths of your eyes despite the bone-deep weariness lining your features. It takes him a moment to find his voice.

“I’ll be back.” He interrupts, not letting you speak. “Just give me an hour, okay? Promise me that you’ll wait. Just for an hour. Promise me that you’ll still be here when I come back for you.”

Your hesitation is palpable, and in that moment he would have given anything in exchange for knowing what was occurring in your mind, your face revealing nothing. Finally you seem to come to a conclusion to whatever you were considering, and exhale loudly. 

“Okay. I promise.”

He nods jerkily, and turns, exiting the cell without saying goodbye, rationalizing that there was no need for goodbyes since he would be seeing you in an hour. As the doors swing shut, he turns around and catches a final glimpse of you, bloodstained and bound, before the door bangs shut with a finality that didn’t sit well with him.

As he shakes off the ominous sense of foreboding swirling within his chest and leaves, he has no way of knowing that in a mere fifteen minutes from that second, only a quarter of the time you promised him, the clan elders finished their meeting and sentenced you to death.

He has no way of knowing that in thirty three minutes, only a little over a half of the time you promised him, an executioner would enter the room he just left, before leaving a measly thirty seconds later, blood staining the edge of his clothes.

You promised him thirty six thousand seconds of time, but it only took less than two percent of that for your life to end in a cold, dank, room miles beneath the earth’s surface. It takes only half a minute, a fraction of a fraction of fraction of a lifetime, but in that tiny, insignificant amount of time, you leave him behind for the second, and last, time.

Present Time and a Little Past That

There’s no doubt that Itadori Yuuji is a good kid that deserves saving. Anyone with eyes and a conscience would agree. However, Gojo’s motivations for wanting to save him are a little less pure. Where he should see a fifteen year old boy, scared out of his mind and needing guidance, all he can see is you, and an opportunity to make up for his past failure.

When he first saw Yuuji, and on occasion after that, he didn't see fluffy pink hair and wide brown eyes. Instead, he sees your hair, lightly dusted with snow as you lay beside him on frost-kissed grass and your eyes, gleaming in the moonlight as you tell him the words he never knew he so desperately needed to hear.

Looking Yuuji is simultaneously so painful Gojo thinks death may be preferable, and as close to peace as he’ll ever get because even if it’s just little glimpses, he can see you again. So time and time again, he saves Yuuji’s life, and puts the futures and safety of his students above his own in an attempt to repay the insurmountable debt he owes you. 

A little less than six months later, as he lays on his back gazing at the bright blue December sky above him, he finds himself thinking about his students. Even without his lingering guilt and the responsibility he felt as the Honored One, he thinks that he still would have done everything he could to protect his students because they were good kids. 

He finds himself hoping that they will somehow find a way to triumph, and live normal, peaceful lives filled with love and joy and laughter just like they deserve. But in the final moments before his eyes drift shut he thinks of you, and hopes that wherever you are you’re happy. And maybe, just maybe, when he next opens his eyes he’ll be greeted by your smiling face, and he’ll finally get to say all the things he never got to tell you.

Little does he know that somewhere far, far, away there is a little airport. It’s a strange airport; there are no entrances, no baggage claims, no security. There is only one gate, leading to a single, unmanned plane that doesn’t have a set departure time, and a small waiting area with simple black seats.

In this area, a small group of people are gathered. There is a boy, around Yuuji’s age with dark brown hair and an animated smile, happily chattering away with another boy his age sporting a side part and an old soul that doesn’t match his physical appearance. Off to the side, a young man with deep, haunted eyes apologizes quietly to a grizzled older man, his body trembling as he cries.

The older man removes his glasses and wipes at his eyes, before patting the younger mans’ back and telling him he’s forgiven. And there, sitting on the chairs closest to the windows with a soft smile on her face, sits a girl.

A girl with eyes that burn with determination, and a self-sacrificing attitude. A girl who has so many things she wants to say, but the person she wants to say them to has yet to arrive. A girl who will wait, as many lifetimes as it takes, to see him again and tell him the words she holds deep in her heart.

In her fantasies, when they reunite he sweeps her up in his arms and holds her like he never wants to let her go again. No words are needed, and there are tears and laughter, and yes, kissing. She shows him the others. He embraces the young man with the dark eyes, and pokes fun at the old soul. Then they all go and board the plane together, heading to their final destination.

As the plane soars away into the sky in her mind's eye, something tells her to turn around. Slowly, she does, and a melancholy tinged smile stretches across her face as a familiar figure materializes in the center of the waiting area.

He may be a little early, but at last, he’s here.

general taglist: @arlerts-angel @ponderingmoonlight @hotvinimon @evemooniepeach

jjk taglist: @m0k0k0 @starlightanyaaa

gojo taglist: @pandora-ophelia-blog

thin dividers by @mikeykuns. the medium thickness ones and banner are mine :)

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule VI

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which you didn’t know who he truly was- until it was too late. Or in which he found heaven in you.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: never tell me I don’t love my readers when I’m here writing when I just got my heart broken hehehehe

Masterlist, Latibule V

You turned around when you heard a dull thump of mug hitting the wooden table, distracting you from looking at the stars. Suga was standing behind you with his own steaming cup of coffee, looking tiredly at you before taking a seat.

“Finally got him to sleep?”

He sighed before taking a sip from his coffee. He brushed his hair away from his face as he looked up at the stars. “Seriously, who needs bedtime stories in order to sleep?” He scoffed, remembering how Jackson insisted that he read him stories because, and he quoted, ‘Ahjussi has a deep, nice voice perfect for princes and monsters’.

See, he didn’t even know why he digressed, but that little child looked up at him expectantly that he found himself doing voices that made the child laughed. It was so out of character for him, the big, bad mafia. If his men saw him like that, they would surely thought he hit his head or something. Even he thought that he hit his head. Otherwise, why would he do all those things?

“Children, Suga,” you chuckled at his exhausted face before returning your gaze at the stars, of how they twinkled back at you, of how tragically beautiful they were. You never tired of looking at them night after night, committing them to memory, admiring them from afar. “Didn’t your parents read to you when you were a child?”

He chuckled tonelessly. His family wasn’t exactly…conventional. Hell, if he was raised with normal childhood where parents loved their kids, would he have turned out fine and not the fucked up man he was? The one who was incapable of love?

You looked at him as he looked up at the stars, his hands resting behind him, supporting his weight. The night was quiet, peaceful even. He looked so stoic, so tranquil that you thought he would never answered. After all, you practically knew nothing about him. For heaven’s sake, you had to name him because he refused to give you his name. Despite him existing in your life for months, you didn’t know any truth about him. He was always quick to dodge your questions, asking you questions of his own instead of answering. You didn’t expect him to tell you any of his truths.

This was also the reason why you convinced yourself not to look too much into what you felt, or how your heart seemed to calm when he was near…or how you felt like you were no longer alone for the first time since that tragedy that changed the trajectory of your life. This was all temporary, you kept telling yourself.

One day, he would leave and you would be alone again.

However much to your surprise, he finally answered. “My mother…used to sing lullabies to me every night,” his deep voice divulged, his eyes still trained to the stars you loved to look up to every night. This was the first time he talked about her, the first time he looked back on the nightmare that was his childhood. “She loved singing those French love songs,” he chuckled humorlessly, remembering how her voice calmed the young Yoongi.

“She’s probably worried about you right now…” you mused, thinking of how he had been gone from his normal life for months now. What parent would have not been worried, you thought.

He smirked before looking at you with emotionless eyes. “Why? She’s dead. And even if she’s alive, I don’t think she’s the kind to be worried.”

You frowned, surely that wasn’t the truth, you thought. “Suga-“

He leaned in, looking intensely at you, taking your space as though it was his. He placed his fingers under your chin, tilting your face to his liking. “She gave me this scar,” he whispered, his tone light like he was merely talking about the weather. “Daddy dearest made her choose. Her face-“ he tucked your stray hair behind your ear, his fingers touching your softly as though he wasn’t telling you his tragic childhood. “-or my eye. Guess which one she chose?”

Your lips trembled at what he said. You struggled to look at his eyes, your eyes shifting. What kind of twisted parents would hurt their child? What kind of demon would scar a helpless child? This close and you could see how deep the scar was and it pained you to think of the young Suga bleeding and crying as he clutched his eye.

“And now, I’m hideous,” he sneered, taking your silence as rejection, as disgust, as loathing. He was about to step back when you reached out and slowly, oh so slowly, traced his scar.

“Who told you that?” You asked softly, looking at his eyes with sincerity that it terrified him because no one had ever looked at him like that. You smiled at him, “You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, Suga.”

He looked at you with wonder, his expression slowly relaxing. How could an angel such as you thought of him as beautiful? If…if you knew what he had done, what he was capable of doing, would you still willingly touch him?

Would you still call him beautiful?

Would you finally see him as the monster that he truly was?

You were about to pull away from him when he laid his hand on yours, unwilling to be separated from this feeling that he couldn’t name for how could he when he was never shown love? When he was never taught of love?

How could he knew he was falling for you when that emotion was foreign to him?

“I-is your father still alive?”

He shook his head, not trusting his voice. He thought he would feel regret when he opened up about his past to you. Strangely, all he felt was peace. He felt lighter.

“Good,” you whispered, nodding your head. They didn’t deserve to still be in Suga’s life after the horrifying deeds they did to a defenseless child.

“Noona?”

You snapped out of the trance that you were in, quickly putting distance that Suga hated upon hearing Jackson. He was rubbing the sleep off of his eyes as he walked to where the two of you were. “I woke up from a nightmare. A monster was chasing me, ahjussi,” he said sadly, cheeks damped from his tears. He looked up at Suga with a pout, lifting his little arms expectantly. Yet Suga looked at him in confusion.

“What? W-what does he want, Angel?” He asked you, shifting his gaze from the young child to you as though he was asking for help.

“I think…he wants you to pick him up.”

He sighed before easily picking him up. The child was quick to wrap his arms around Suga’s broad shoulders, his chubby cheeks leaning on his shoulder. “I wasn’t scared, ahjussi! I knew you can fight the monsters,” he boasted sleepily.

Suga didn’t even notice himself smiling at the sentiment. Of course he would slay all the monsters…despite him being one. Once the two of you got him in bed, Suga was about to turn around and leave when he called for him, whining about wanting him to stay so he could slay his demons.

And in that moment, Suga looked at you for permission. He held your eyes captive, his eyes gently awaiting your decision. You nodded at him, and the three of you laid quietly. Jackson was fast asleep in between the two of you, the darkness of the night making it difficult for you to know whether Suga was sleeping. Yet, when you turned to look at him, he was already looking at you with his dark eyes, his body fully attuned to yours.

You turned to him, your hands under your head as you looked at him. “I’m glad you survived that,” you whispered truthfully, your eyes tracing his scarred one.

He looked as though he was contemplating. You thought he would never answer as he was only looking at you, but then he asked, “Why?”

“Because you’re here now.”

In that moment, he was convinced now more than ever that they never loved him. Because when you loved someone, you would never hurt them, you would never even entertain the thought of hurting them. No. When you love someone, you protect them. You cherished them. You would never, ever, lay your hands on them. Yoongi thought that he would rather die than hurt you.

-

“May I help you?” You asked the tall and broad shouldered man. You noticed him looking around the clinic, his back facing yours. He looked like he was at loss as to what to do.

He turned around slowly, his dark eyes focusing on yours as he took you in. You weren’t ready when you finally saw him. He looked like he could say that he was a movie star and you would completely believe him with no question asked. He could claim that he was a prince and you would say, ‘yep, that sounds right’.

In conclusion, his beauty was out of this world. And he looked like he was aware of it. He had this clean look in him, almost clinical in nature. His hair was neatly combed back, his long-sleeves folded to his elbow.

“I…” he started, his brows furrowed as he considered what and how he was going to say. “I lost my cat.”

“Oh no, that’s terrible!”

He scrunched his nose and thought whether losing Yoongi was really terrible. His life was way quieter without him. Did he really want to look for him, he thought. He looked like he was in deep contemplation. “It…is?”

Your head tilted to the side in confusion. Wasn’t it a terrible thing to have lost your own pet?

At your expression, he straightened and nodded his head solemnly, willing you to believe him. “Yes. It’s terrible. It is.”

“What did you say you lost?”

“Yoongi,” he whispered under his breath.

“What?”

“I meant- a cat. I lost a vicious cat. A dangerous one,” he stated, his voice strong. “It is imperative that I find him.”

You blinked at his statement, and then some more when he wouldn’t stop looking at you. “Do you want my help?”

Suga looked at the clinic’s secretary with a dull expression on his face. For weeks since he started working at that diner as a waiter slash guard when rowdy teenagers visited the diner with no intention to pay, he always picked you up from the clinic. It became your tradition to go home together. He would go to the clinic as soon as he finished his work, and you would be where he wanted you to be- in your office waiting for him.

So where the fuck were you now?

He had his arms crossed, his eyes trained on her despite her trembling form.

“She’s not here,” he repeated slowly, not liking the thought of not knowing where you were. It pissed him off. It unnerved him. It didn’t sit right with him.

“She left early with some guy…”

Min Yoongi had never felt that exceedingly terrifying feeling before. It gnawed at his bone, it punched his heart as his brain thought of million grotesque scenarios concerning you. Did his enemies find you? Did his enemies found out that he was fucking alive? Did they somehow get to you?

Did you now know who he truly was?

His hand curled into a tight fist as he felt darkness clung to his mind. Was this how his paradise end?

You eyed the man sitting on your sofa. You helped him looked all over the town to no avail, yet when you asked him if he had a picture of his pet so that the search would be easier, he claimed that he lost his phone early that day.

He was calmly sipping the coffee you made him, looking around your house with nonchalant observation. It was already dark outside and you kept on looking at the clock. You wondered where Suga was. It was hours past his shift and he still wasn’t home.

“I’m sorry we didn’t find your cat.”

He smiled gently at you before softly placing the cup of coffee back on the table. You noticed that his movement was always refined, that he moved with an air of elegance as though he was born with a golden spoon.

“That’s fine,” he started, his voice deep and his eyes shone with intelligence like he knew something you didn’t. “He’ll come.”

You were about to ask him what he meant by that when the front door slammed opened. Suga’s eyes seemed to appear darker than the usual, his form menacing. This was the first time you saw him resembled a wild predator. He seemed to appear unhinged, his look of bewilderment when he finally found you made you unconsciously stepped back as he neared you with heavy steps.

But you didn’t get far.

You would have fallen had it not been for his arms that wrapped around you tightly as though he would never let you go. You never knew how big he was until he had you plastered to him, his form completely enveloping you. This close and you could hear how hard his heart was beating, how it wanted to break free from the cage that was his ribs. This close and you could feel how his body was trembling with an emotion you didn’t know.

“S-Suga-“

“Never,” he growled, his dark hair cascading on his face making him looked more feral. He gently pushed you away, his hands on your shoulder as he made you looked at him with ferocity. He was taking you in, the alarm in his face hadn’t gone down an inch. But the moment he saw you, he looked as though a weight had been taken off his shoulder.

He had never felt as thankful to whatever deity or Gods that were out there than he did the moment he saw you alive, that you were still here in front of him, that he could still fucking hold you.

“Never, ever go somewhere without telling me first,” he growled at you with a dark look on his face . He was imposing and serious like you had never seen him before. “Never go somewhere where I cannot fucking follow-“

“Suga, please calm do-“

“Do you understand me, Angel?” He cut you off as he tilted your chin up, making you understood how fucking terrified he was, of how he would find any other answer unacceptable but your agreement. And when you finally nodded did he reluctantly let you out of his hands.

And only then did he notice the man sitting on the sofa with a smirk on his face.

“Hyung.”

- National Police Agency, South Korea -

Park Jimin was staring at his laptop unblinkingly. Ever since he found out who the traitor was, he was at loss with what to do. He was raised to value both the organization and family. And right now, he needed to choose between the two.

He couldn’t find the answer as to why he was able to do what he did. He couldn’t understand why he betrayed Yoongi when he protected them like they were his own brothers. Min Yoongi, as dangerous as that man was, took lashes for them. He would tell them to fuck off and then catch a bullet for them. He made the difficult decisions for them. He bled just so the seven of them could live.

Min Yoongi was the most loyal man he ever knew.

And so, how could that traitor do that to him?

“Detective Park.”

Jimin lifted his eyes to the man who called him. He was wearing his uniform, just having been temporarily promoted to Yoongi’s position. He was smiling like the sunshine he was perceived to be, yet behind those smiles lied something dangerous…something sinister.

“A word.”

He smiled at the traitor.

He smiled at Jung Hoseok.

Latibule VII

[vagabond-umlaut]

la douleur exquise

(noun) the heart-wrenching pain of wanting the affection of someone unattainable

———————

gojo satoru x fem!reader; 18+ content so mdni; former teacher gojo x former student reader; angst & smut; heavily-implied satosugu angst; semi-public sex [car sex] with WAY TOO MANY feelings; unrequited love; hurt/no comfort; age gap [characters are adults older than the age of consent]; no one's rly happy or lucky in love in the story...

header is from pinterest. jjk isn't mine. pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this. hope y'all enjoy reading this ❤️❤️

———————

"Grant that one request of mine and I promise to be fine with whatever you say, Gojo-san."

You're lying. Gojo can see you're lying. Yet he says nothing of that.

He lets his eyes roam over your earnest face from beside. So young. So sweet. So caring.

A shudder racks through Gojo, betraying the toasty temperature in the car. He steers his gaze away from you to focus on the snow-covered highway before. These terrains are awfully known for the lives they have devoured, after all.

Although… the sorcerer wonders if it might be better to be consumed by the precipice to his right, than by the chasm of your coy words.

He manages to eke out a chuckle.

"You're tired after the mission," Gojo says, mouth twisting into a well-practised smile of ease, "Once I drop you home, go straight to sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."

"And what if there's no tomorrow?"

The steering wheel goes slack for a beat in his grasp, before his firm hold returns. If not worried, he chances a definitely curious glance at you. A serene smile greets him. His smile fights to fray. "Too desperate," he teases, voice airy and free of the weight thrashing against his ribs, "Yet that wasn't the worst way I've been forced to give an answer… I'll give you an eight out of ten, I think."

"Aw no." His grading receives a pout. "Is there no way I can increase it to ten?"

You've no knowledge of lip care, is the first thing Gojo realises.

The second thing, he doesn't know how to deal with you without hurting you.

It would have been infinitely better if Nanami was here, he thinks to himself. A foot presses a tad too hard on the accelerator. Shoko too would have known how to navigate this. Hell, Utahime too would have evaded this situation just fine.

But no. It has to be him. Trapped here. With no escape route in sight. Just two eyes, bright with innocence, dull with gravity, gazing at him. Perhaps even into the depths of his soul. An invisible sharp knife twisting in the back of his skull, Gojo sighs—but finds himself an instant too late.

You answer the question you meant for him.

"You'll never give me a ten," you state simply. No frown. No tears. Nothing.

The man nods, an eye trained on the road. An eye on you. "No, I won't."

"Is it because I'm not him?"

Gojo hits the brakes, the car skidding a foot or two before reaching a stop. Teetering too, too close to the edge of the road- the sorcerer finds himself uncaring of the fact, however. You simply look out the window before redirecting your attention to him. A wry smile clashes with the grim line on his mouth. With the maelstrom of emotions ravaging his insides to shreds. For the first time the evening, he lets go of his faux cheer.

"Stop this little game you're playing," he breathes out, knuckles growing white on the wheel. Memories searing the landscape of his mind. Black eyes. Black hair. Red blood. Oh god, so fucking much of that damned red blood. On the walls. On the road. On his clothes-

He nearly chokes on a gasp, struggling to form syllables. "You don't know what… it's better… you better not speak on this ever again."

"Just so I can watch you slowly fade away?"

A yell, a scream, a roar- anything, everything, something swells within him. Whetted by your soft query. Fuelled by his white-hot fury. Incensed by his overwhelming guilt. Growing, growing, growing-

Until nothing remains.

Having withered away in the wake of the gleam in your irises. A wretched gleam he has seen himself wear far too many times for his liking. A wretched gleam, he is seeing, kept for him but not by the person he fervently wished it to be from once.

Gojo slowly removes his hands from the wheel. And twists towards you. Feeling terrified-out of the blue, for no particular reason. His words come out as no more than a few faint puffs of air, stern yet pleading. "You can never make me forget him. He is a part of me, always has been-you can never separate us. You…"

Sorrow swallows the rest of his sentence. He offers you one last look. Warning. Entreating. Hoping.

Only for you to disregard it with a giggle of yours. It sounds worse than the worst noise in the world to him. Blissfully ignorant, you watch him, he watches. Your timid smile, unruffled.

"I know I can never do that, Gojo-san," you say, "First loves are the most difficult to move on from… Trust me, I know. However, it'll never do you good to dwell in the past forever. Let yourself be stolen away to the present for a while- please?"

No. No. Never.

Gojo feels a new wave of old emotions crash on the sands of his conscience. Knowing he should reject you. The same way he has rejected every person who approached him before. After him. For there's only one person who may steal him away. No one else, he can allow to.

Yet he finds himself unable to tell you so.

Chest heavy, mind heavy, tongue heavy. The sorcerer finds himself rendered utterly useless in front of your request. Sitting with you in the stifling silence of the car. Staring at the specks of dried blood on your cheeks, glowing in the moonlight. Zeroing in on that gleam in your gaze.

Something horridly bitter like pity, horridly salty like fatigue bombards his senses.

The strongest sorcerer concedes defeat.

"Your place or mine?" he asks.

****

Gojo makes it to neither.

Not that you're too surprised.

Self-control is nothing to a deity, mortal or not. Nothing to his devout follower too, pining or not.

Though now you wish you knew some of that damned quality.

Maybe then you would have been lying on your bed. And not on the backseat of his car. Maybe then your gaze would have been dancing across the familiar old walls of your room. And not drowning in the sky above the open moon-roof. Maybe then you would have bitten your lip and drawn blood. And not asked your ex-mentor to fuck you.

Like the shameless slut you know you aren't, but your request says otherwise.

But the moans you're stifling beg to say otherwise.

A particularly harsh snap of hips against yours makes you yelp. In a blinding burst of pain. Plus pleasure. Perhaps. You don't really know. After your third climax, everything's become pretty hazy. Much like the secluded forest outside the fogged windows. Much like the blur of lust and irritation in those beautiful, eerie, bewitching blue eyes atop.

The grip on your two wrists over your head tightens. You hold back a hiss. Three rules are all the man asked you to follow- no kissing, no noises and no more such 'requests'- you think you would much rather be damned than break any of them. Or pop this bubble you two have slipped into.

A bubble, too desired by you. Too precious for you. Though you wish heard something other than sultry squelches and subdued groans. Smelt something other than expensive cologne and sweat. Tasted something other than tears. And copper.

Did you bite your cheek too hard? Or is it just an injury from the mission?

You don't really know. Like said before: everything's become pretty hazy.

A long finger taps the side of your face. Tap, tap, tap. You see a bright smile flit over the face in those ocean mirrors. Wow, you're a natural at acting, eh? Gojo huffs. His movements stutter once, then again. A jolt of electricity runs through you.

"You still here or not, girl?"

"'m still here, Gojo-san," you murmur, spent and shy. Another sloppy thrust. As toe-curling as ever. Your voice quivers. "I- ah, fuck- I'm s-still here."

"Good, good," he says. It's absent and strained. Very, very strained, in fact. Your brows pucker for two seconds before lifting in realisation. And you gasp. Tears rush down your face in steady rivulets. The tightness ascends a steep curve in your lower belly. Neither seems important to you, however.

Nothing does, except the man with whom this night of yours is ending a bit too soon. Way too soon.

You wish you knew how to freeze this moment. You wish this moment never began in the first place.

A calloused thumb messes the wet stains on your cheek. Paired by a frown for you. Concerned, yes. But conflicted, all the same. Gojo looks as beautiful as the day you first saw him, six years ago on the grounds of Tokyo Jujutsu High. He thumbs your lower lip, inquiring, "Wanna do this again?"

No.

No.

Please, no.

His heart is not in it. His heart will never be in it.

You should refuse. You're strong enough. You can, you will live with the pain. You should refuse.

You Should Refuse-

"Yes, please." The words escape you, mixed with a mewl and a moan. Something flickers in Gojo's expression. Before it's disappeared, replaced by a pretty flood of pink. He cracks a smile, neither crinkling his eyes nor dimpling his cheeks. It hurts. But you don't let your attention waver from his lips as he croons, "You make the cutest noises, y'know?"

"Really?" you want to ask. But you don't.

Rather, you can't.

Your beloved deity is already, finally kissing his adoring believer.

———————

masterlist

———————

[hockeylovee12]

Crossing Enemy Lines

Chapter Two

Luke Hughes x Original Character

Warnings: Cussing

A/N This chapter was updated on 04/11 to replace the photo and then improve the text. The story line remains there's just a few minor adds.

November 11th, 2023

The mid-morning sun filters through the curtains in Luke’s room, casting a gentle glow across his face, as he slowly stirs awake. 

His eyes flutter open and he immediately feels the dull throb of a slight headache. 

With a groan, Luke rolls over and buries his face into the soft pillow. He silently thanks the hockey gods that his coach-even if it was done reluctantly-gave the team the day off, allowing him to nurse his minor hangover in peace. 

Fumbling around on the nightstand, his long fingers finally find his phone. He squints at the screen, taking a moment to adjust to the brightness as he swipes through his notifications. 

A text from his brother Quinn catches his eye: Tough game last night bud. 

Luke sighs, remembering the bitter taste of defeat, his team suffered last night at the hands of their fucking rivals the Rangers. 

He makes a mental note to call Quinn later, and check in on how his game went, knowing the Vancouver Canucks played the reigning cup champs last night, but having no clue how it went. 

The next message is from his mom: Hi sweetie, Dad and I are so excited to see you and Jacky this weekend! How’s everything going? 

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, as he types out a response to his mom indicating his excitement to see her too, before hitting send and returning to check the rest of his notifications. 

As he scrolls a text from an unknown number appears on his screen: Hey it’s Jordan. I had a great time tonight, let’s do it again :) 

Luke’s heart skips a beat as he reads through the message, and a flutter of excitement courses through his veins. Memories of the previous night flood his mind-the laughter, the easy conversation and the undeniable spark he felt between him and Jordan. His smile widens as he types out the response: I’d like that. 

Just as he hits the send button, the door to his room swings open and Jack strolls in, uninvited of course-a habit Luke has had to become reacquainted with since joining the Devils, and moving in with Jack. 

“What’s got you smiling so early in the morning?” Jack asks, his voice equal parts teasing and curious. 

Luke quickly locks his phone, trying to play it cool “Don’t worry about it,” he mumbles

But Jack, ever the perceptive older brother, narrows his eyes and in one swift motion snatches the phone from Luke’s grasp, ignoring his younger brother’s protests, as he types in his password. 

“Lets see what we have here” he says, a mischievous glint in his eye as he reads the text from Jordan “Ah is this the girl from last night?” 

Luke swiftly stands up and lunges towards Jack trying to grab his phone, but Jack holds him at arm's length. 

“Fine, yes, now give me back my phone” Luke grumbles, his cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance. 

“Not so fast,” Jack grins, his eyes still glued to the screen “You like her, don’t you?” 

Luke hesitates, his mind racing. He likes Jordan, he likes Jordan a lot. There’s something about her-about her laugh, about her smile, about her energy, the way she carries herself. As he ponders for a response, his phone beeps, signaling a new message. 

“She’s asking when you’re free” Jack informs him, his eyes scanning the screen. 

“Today?” Jack says, his fingers flying across the keyboard, to type out the very question he said aloud. 

“Wait. Jack don’t-” Luke tries to warn, but it’s too late. Jack hits send, a triumphant grin on his face. 

Luke finally manages to snatch his phone back, his heart pounding as he stares at the screen. 

Three little dots appear, then disappear, and for a moment Luke forgets how to breathe. 

Then, a white bubble pops up, with a single word that sends his pulse racing: Sure.

Jack leans over Luke’s shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips “You’re welcome” he says his tone equal parts smug and supportive. 

Luke playfully shoves Jack away, a genuine smile spreading across his face “Get out” he laughs, guiding his brother towards the door. 

As the door clicks shut behind Jack, Luke leans against it, his eyes fixated on his phone, as his smile widens. 

He quickly types out a message, asking where they should meet, and Jordan’s response comes almost immediately suggesting a cafe in New York City. 

Luke responds: Sounds good. How’s 1pm? 

Jordan replies: Works for me! I’ll send you the address. See you soon. 

With a grin Luke types out Looking forward to it, and sets his phone down, a flutter of anticipation rises in his chest as he thinks about seeing her again. 

He takes a deep breath, then pushes off the door, making his way to the bathroom, to start getting ready. 

 *****

Luke’s breath forms a cloud in the crisp New York air as he pushes open the door to the quaint cafe nestled on the corner of a bustling street. 

His heart races with anticipation as he scans the room for Jordan. 

He spots her at a table, her face lighting up with a smile, as she waves him over. 

“Hey” Luke greets her sliding into the seat across from her 

“Hi,” Jordan replies, her eyes sparkling. 

They order their drinks- an ice tea for Luke and a matcha latte for Jordan, before easily falling into a conversation.

“Oh before I forget,” Jordan says, reaching into her bag. She pulls out a well-worn paperback and hands it to Luke. “You asked me to recommend something for you and uh this is one of my all time favorites” She explains

Luke smiles, turning the book over in his hand, and looks at the title The Great Gatsby

“Thank you Jordan, that was really kind” Luke expresses 

“Well, you did promise me you’d actually read it” Jordan teases her eyes twinkling with mirth. 

Luke chuckles setting the book down on the table, “I’ll dive into it as soon as I can”

 They continue chatting, swapping stories and laughing at each other's jokes. They delve into various topics from their favorite movies, to their most embarrassing childhood memories.

"...and then I tripped, face-first into the cake," Jordan recounts, laughing at the memory. "My mom was horrified, but my brother couldn't stop laughing."

Luke chuckles, imagining a young Jordan covered in frosting. "Siblings, they never let you live anything down, do they?"

“Definitely not, do you have siblings?” 

“Ya I uh, I got two older brothers” Luke tells 

“Baby of the family?” Jordan teases. 

“Something like that” He jokes

“Don’t worry I’m the baby of mine too” She says, eliciting a laugh from Luke. 

They continue their conversation, shifting the topic to their favorite places. 

At one point their hands brush against one anothers on the table sending a jolt of electricity through both their bodies. Luke looks up, his eyes meeting Jordan’s, and for a moment the rest of the world fades away. 

They lean in, drawn to each other like magnets. Luke’s heart races as he inches closer, his gaze dropping to Jordan’s lips. 

And just as they're on the brink of sharing what would most likely be a magical kiss, the loud buzzing sound of a notification on Luke’s phone startles them both. 

Instinctively, he turns the phone face up, his brightness fully illuminated, and as he clears the random alert, his lock screen comes into view-a picture of him in his New Jersey Devils uniform, standing proudly on the ice. 

Jordan’s eyes widen as she catches a glimpse of the image, and her heart skips a beat. 

Luke notices her reaction and realizes his mistake. 

"Alright, um, I guess you kinda caught me," he admits sheepishly. "I'm not a student. I, uh, I play in the NHL."

Jordan is silent for a moment, processing this newfound information. Luke laughs nervously, trying to lighten the mood. "You know, most girls think it's pretty cool. Did you have a terrible experience with a hockey player or something? Promise not all of us are the same."

Jordan hesitates before speaking. "You play for the Devils?"

"Yeah," Luke confirms, studying her reaction.

"Don't tell me you hate hockey?" He somewhat jokes, hoping to god and beyond her answer isn't yes cus that's the biggest deal breaker in the world. 

Jordan hesitates, her expression unreadable. "No I um, I don't hate. My, uh, my brother plays," she reveals, her voice soft.

Luke's brows furrowed in confusion. "Oh, cool. In the NHL?"

"Yeah," Jordan sighs.

"Who's your brother?" Luke asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Jacob Trouba."

Luke's jaw drops, his eyes widening in shock. "Your brother is Jacob Trouba?!" he exclaims, a hint of anger creeping into his voice.

"Guilty," Jordan half-jokes, trying to diffuse the tension.

Luke runs his hands through his hair, muttering under his breath, "What the fuck."

Jordan bristles at his reaction. "Hey, it doesn't really change anything."

"Are you kidding me?" Luke scoffs, his frustration mounting.

"What?" Jordan challenges, her own irritation rising to the surface.

"Your brother is the captain of the Rangers, and I'm a Devil," Luke points out, as if it should be obvious.

Jordan laughs, but there's an edge to it. "So?"

"So? What do you mean, 'so'?" Luke asks incredulously.

"What does it change?" Jordan counters, her eyes narrowing.

"Wh-what? Everything!" Luke sputters. "Why didn't you mention this?"

Jordan's face hardens. "Are you kidding me? I didn't mention my last name because I had no fucking clue you gave a shit about hockey. In case you forgot, you told me you were a college student. Failed to mention you're actually in the fucking NHL."

Luke tries to defend himself. "Yeah, but that's different. I didn't tell you cus I figured you be some kinda fan girl, which by the way would be a hell of a lot better than you being the sister to the captain of my biggest rival" 

Jordan lets out a harsh laugh, "Rival? Oh My God! Are you serious? Do you hear how ridiculous you sound?" 

"It's not ridiculous" Luke claims

Jordan scoffs "You're right it's not ridiculous, it's just fucking comical" She stands abruptly, grabbing her purse "Grow the fuck up, Luke" 

With that, she turns on her heel and storms out of the cafe, leaving Luke sitting there, stunned. 

The copy of The Great Gatsby still lies on the table, a painful reminder of the moment that had slipped away.

With a heavy sigh, Luke stands, tossing a few bills on the table to cover their drinks and picks up the book, scoffing at the irony of it all, as he walks towards the exit of the cafe, and steps back out onto the bustling streets of New York, a scowl plastered across his face, at the unfortunate turn of events. 

 *****

Luke returns to his and Jack’s apartment, his mood sour and his thoughts consumed by the disastrous end to his date with Jordan.

As he enters the living room, he finds Jack sitting on the couch, his phone propped up in front of him. The familiar voice of Quinn filters through the speaker, indicating that they're in the middle of a FaceTime call.

Jack looks up, a smirk playing on his lips. "Hey, Lukey! How'd the date go?"

"Shut up," Luke grumbles, plopping down on the couch beside Jack.

Quinn's voice chimes in, concern evident in his tone. "What's wrong, Luke?"

Luke sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Just didn't go well," he says vaguely, not wanting to delve into the details.

Jack and Quinn exchange a glance through the screen, their brotherly instincts kicking in. "Come on, man," Jack prods gently. "Talk to us."

Luke shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the floor. "It's not gonna work out, that's all."

"Why not?" Quinn asks, his brow furrowed.

"Just... not going to," Luke responds, his tone indicating that he doesn't want to discuss it further.

Jack and Quinn sense Luke's reluctance and decide not to push the matter. "Alright, bud," Quinn says, his voice sympathetic. "I'm sorry, but maybe things will still work out?"

"Not gonna happen" Luke mumbles, anger creeping into his voice. 

Jack leans back on the couch, trying to lighten the mood. "It's probably for the best, come on, man. You don't gotta be hung up on some random girl when we're trying to win a Cup."

Luke nods, forcing a small smile. "Yeah." He stands up, stretching his arms above his head. "I'm gonna go lay down for a bit."

"Okay," Jack says, understanding in his eyes. "We'll be here if you need us."

Luke makes his way to his room, and decides to take a shower, hoping the hot water will help clear his head.

As the steam fills the bathroom, Luke's internal monologue takes over. He knows he doesn't need to be in a relationship, but the idea of having someone by his side isn't entirely unappealing.

His thoughts drift to his past relationships, or lack thereof. It seems like everyone around him has someone - Quinn with his girlfriend, Jack with his rotating roster of dates. But for Luke, finding a genuine connection has always been a struggle.

The last real relationship he had was back at Michigan, and even that ended in heartbreak when he discovered the girl was only using him for his family name. But now, with Jordan, he thought he'd finally found something real, something special and the fucking irony that for once it wasn’t his last name that ruined something, it’s stupid, it’s fucking stupid. 

As he steps out of the shower and changes into comfortable clothes, Luke can't shake the feeling of loneliness that settles in his chest. He lies in bed, scrolling aimlessly through his phone, trying to distract himself from the ache in his heart. 

It doesn’t work, he tosses his phone to the side, staring at the paperback book he threw on his nightstand. 

Suddenly, his phone buzzes with a notification. For a brief, hopeful moment, he thinks it might be Jordan, reaching out to apologize or explain. But instead, it's a message in the Devils' group chat,

Reminder practice tomorrow 9 AM. 

Luke groans, his disappointment palpable as he tosses his phone onto the nightstand and buries his head in his pillow.

A/N Part 3 coming soon

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Midnight | Chapter 17 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - Luke arrives in Crested Butte and meets some locals. Spencer has his own problems to deal with.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - drinking, brief mentions of sex, swearing, bribery, false allegations, sexual abuse. WC - 5.8k

Chapter 17 - Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

You didn’t remember much about returning to the cabin last night as upon arriving back in Butte you and Spencer had indulged in one two many drinks at The Eldo before finally stumbling home well after midnight. 

Judging by the fact your body was sore and you were naked, you’d probably had sex more than once and your head was throbbing when you opened your eyes, but you felt at peace. 

Spencer stirred next to you, pulling you closer to his body and kissing your messy hair. 

“I swore I’d never drink that much again.” He grumbled. 

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a freight train.” You agreed. 

“I think that was more my fault than the alcohol. I’m fairly certain we had sex at least five times. And from memory it got pretty rough.” He pulled you even closer. 

“Worth it.” You smiled sleepily, resting your head on his chest. “I feel like shit, but I also feel on top of the fucking world.”

“Hmm, me too.” He agreed, nuzzling his face against your head. 

“Don’t get excited, I don’t think my body can handle anymore sex right now.” 

“Trust me when I say I don’t even think I have the energy to get it up.” He chuckled. 

“That is music to my ears right now.” You giggled. 

“Give it time, I’m sure there’s only so long I can lay next to a beautiful, naked woman before it happens of its own accord.” 

“Fair enough.” You giggled again. “I can handle that. But I never want to drink again in my life.” 

“Agreed.” Spencer exhaled before adding. “You know, until next time.” 

You snuggled into him, wrapping your arm around his waist and slinging one leg over his. In that moment you felt invincible. 

***

McGill’s Diner on Elk Avenue had a traffic camera positioned between the ground and first floor windows, capturing every car that passed by. It was the same camera that had witnessed the little blue Nissan purchased by Andrew Burnett in Franklin County, Virginia, drive up and down the street multiple times over the last week. 

With no better place to start, Luke parked up at the curb and headed inside. He was under strict instructions from Prentiss that he was to not treat this like a federal investigation, they had no idea what they were dealing with and they didn’t want to alert the townsfolk to FBI presence. He was simply a concerned friend. 

To stave off temptation, he left his creds in the hire vehicle he’d driven the forty minutes from Gunnison-Crested Butte Regional Airport. He did however keep his firearm visible in his holster on his hip. 

A little bell chimed above the door as he entered the diner. It was late enough that the breakfast rush was over and early enough for the lunchtime crowd not to have surfaced yet so it was reasonably quiet. There was an older couple in a booth over the back and a younger man and woman sitting at the counter. 

Luke made his way over to where a guy around your age was fixing a pot of coffee behind the counter. He looked up when he heard Luke approached and offered him a friendly smile. He wore a green flannel shirt over a black tee which had some kind of stain down it. 

“Hi there,” he put down the coffee pot and gave Luke his full attention. “Can I get you a table?” 

“No, thanks. I’m actually looking for some people. My friends, I think they might be here.” Luke dove straight in. 

“Sure, I might be able to help. Most people come through here even if they're just in town for a day or two. Our coffee is pretty good.” 

“Is this your place?” 

“No, my dads.” The man wiped his hand on his jeans before extending it towards Luke. “Jesse McGill.”

“Luke Alvez.” Luke shook his hand. “So like I said, I’m looking for my friends. Rose and Andrew Burnett. I can show you pictures if you like?” 

“No, that’s ok.” Jesse rolled his lip between his teeth. “I know them. Well, I know her better than him, never really spoken to him but I’ve seen him around.” 

“They still in town?” Luke asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh, I guess so. Haven’t seen them for a few days so I can’t be sure. People come and go, you know? This place is a bit of a tourist trap.” Jesse shrugged.

“A ski resort isn’t much of a tourist trap in spring time.” Luke narrowed his eyes on Jesse, feeling as though the man was hiding something from him. “You know where they’re staying?”

Jesse straightened his back, running a hand through his thick beard while he contemplated how to answer that. Luke could tell he knew exactly where they were staying but for whatever reason, didn’t want to share the information. He knew all it would take to get it out of him would be to flash his FBI badge, but of course Prentiss had ordered him not to.

Jesse was mulling over what you’d told him the other night about Rose not being your real name and not really being married and now a stranger had shown up looking for you, that couldn’t be good.  

Something happened and we had to leave our jobs, our homes, that’s what you’d said to him. Were you running from someone, someone like this man in front of him? He didn’t want to risk your safety or betray your trust. He didn’t get a good vibe from this Luke Alvez character.

“No, sorry I don’t.” He shrugged again. “Like I say, haven’t seen them in a few days, they may have already left town.”

Luke wasn’t buying any of this. Jesse knew exactly where you and Spencer were but he wasn’t going to tell Luke. Why, Luke didn’t know, but without his FBI creds to back him up he knew he wasn’t going to get much further. Maybe he’d reassess, call Prentiss and tell her that no one was talking to him and he needed some authority on his side. 

“Well, you also said most people come through here right? So I’ll take that table now and a cup of that coffee and I’ll wait.” Luke smiled smugly at him and subtly put his hands on his hips to draw attention to his firearm. 

Jesse glanced down at it and the fear he’d felt for your safety only doubled. What the hell kind of trouble were you in and how could he alert you to it without arousing suspicion? For now he nodded, motioning Luke towards a table and following him over with the pot of coffee. He left him alone after that but kept a watchful eye over the stranger in his diner.

Luke pulled out his phone and texted Prentiss to let her know that he’d arrived in the Butte but hadn’t had much luck yet. He sipped the coffee, which he couldn’t deny was pretty incredible and stared at the door as if it would magically open and you would stroll in. 

He was only sitting there for about a minute before a young girl with bright red hair who had been sitting at the counter slid into the booth opposite him. She had a curious look in her large green eyes as she leant on the table with her elbows.

“I know Andrew Burnett pretty well.” She cut to the chase.

“Really?” Luke cocked his eyebrow at her. 

“We hooked up a few times.” She shrugged, her words causing Luke to pull a face.

“You and S…Andrew?” 

“Yep.” 

“How old are you?” Luke’s brow furrowed heavily, thinking there was no way Spencer would sleep with this girl. 

“Twenty seven.” She sat straight and puffed out her chest but Luke’s disbelieving look caused her to huff. “Fine, I’m twenty two.” 

“Yeah, uh, no offence but I’m fairly certain he wouldn’t sleep with a twenty two year old.” Luke clucked. 

“Well, he did. More than once.” She smirked smugly. “I promised I wouldn’t say anything because of his little wifey, but he couldn’t keep his hands off of me.” 

“Wifey as in Rose?” 

“Uh huh, between you and me she seems kinda like a stick in the mud.” 

“That stick in the mud is my friend.” Luke scowled at her. 

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s no better. She might be boring but he has some anger issues.” She picked at one of her nails.

“Anger issues?” Luke frowned, it wasn’t the first time someone had inferred that about Spencer recently.

“Yep. I think he controls Rose, she always seems a little timid round him. And then there was the time he practically threw me against a wall.” 

“He…are you sure?” Luke was frowning so hard he felt a headache pinching at his temples. 

“Yeah that’s not the kind of thing you forget. He couldn’t keep it up, tried to blame me for it. So I told him he probably couldn’t keep it up because he was old…no offence.” 

“None taken.” Luke pulled a face.

“Anyway so he just freaks, gets me up against the wall and yells in my face and I swear he’s going to hurt me.” She finished with a shake of her head.

“Did he?” 

“No, but I think he wanted to.” 

Luke pulled out his phone and got up a photograph of Spencer which he turned to show the girl. 

“Is this the man you’re talking about?” 

“Yep, that’s him.” She nodded. “You say you know him, you must know what he’s like.” 

“Yeah, see that’s the thing, I don’t know him to be an angry or violent man. So what I’m wondering is maybe you had a little crush on him and he rebuffed you and so you’re making up stories to tarnish him and make yourself feel better.” Luke picked up the coffee mug and lifted it to his lips.

“I’m not five.” She spat. “I know what happened. I was just trying to help but if you don’t need-”

“Ok, Mary, that’s enough now.” She was cut off by a hand on her shoulder and she looked up to see Jesse standing over her. “You can leave now.”

She rolled her eyes and huffed, sliding out of the booth and sulking away. Jesse soon took her place, sitting down opposite Luke and exhaling through his nose.

“Look, I don’t make a habit of agreeing with her, but I think she might be telling you the truth.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Rose told me something bad happened to them and that she had get away and when you strolled in here looking for them, I thought maybe you were the something bad, you know?” 

Luke nodded slowly, sitting forward in his seat. 

“But you don’t think so now?” Luke narrowed his eyes on Jesse. 

“No.” Jesse shook his head. “You’re a cop right? Shoulda noticed that before, you scream law enforcement.”

“FBI.” Luke whispered so no one else would hear. “I’m not here on official capacity though, I worked with Y/N and Spencer, they’re my friends and I really am just trying to find them.” 

“Y/N and Spencer?” Jesse frowned. “She told me Rose wasn’t her real name but she wouldn’t tell me what it was. They’re FBI?” 

“They were, until a while ago when they just skipped down.” Luke ran his fingers through his hair, knowing he shouldn’t be telling Jesse any of this. “You said you thought that kid was telling the truth? Why?” 

Jesse exhaled again, looking sceptically at Luke as though he still wasn’t sure he trusted him. He ran his fingers through his beard and pulled a face that Luke couldn’t place.

“When I first met Rose…Y/N, she told me her “husband” was a drunken bully. I got the impression she was scared of him. I asked her if he hurt her and she said no but she did say that he had a temper. He’s a skinny dude but there’s something about him that makes me think he wouldn’t hesitate in kicking someone’s ass. He doesn’t strike me as stable, if that makes sense.” Jesse looked uncomfortable sharing this information, like he was betraying you in doing so.

“It makes absolutely zero sense, but if you knew Spencer Reid, it wouldn't make sense to you either.” Luke shook his head.

“I’m scared for her.” Jesse admitted, leaning on the table and lowering his voice to barely a whisper. “They’re staying on Gothic Avenue, big cabin right at the end. Come out of here and go straight up 4th, take the second right onto Gothic. Keep going for about a half mile and it's the big one on the corner right before the large rec.” 

“You did the right thing.” Luke smiled at him, reaching into his pocket and subtly sliding his card across the table which Jesse quickly took. “If you see either of them, please call me.”

“Sure.” Jesse nodded, soon sliding out of his chair and walking away.

Luke downed the rest of the coffee and got to his feet, making quick work of getting outside and back into his hired car and following Jesse’s instructions, drove towards the Gothic Avenue cabin. 

But he wasn’t the only one on that particular mission and he didn’t notice the redhead following him outside and heading the same way on foot. 

***

It was just before lunch time, after some extremely lazy sex that you finally dragged yourself out of bed, your hunger getting the better of you. But you soon came to find the cupboards were empty. 

Spencer bribed you with sexual favours you probably would have gotten anyway, to go down to Scout’s as he physically couldn’t prise himself away from the bed. Reluctantly you’d agreed, taking a quick shower to wash the stench of sex off of you before dressing and heading outside. 

You got about a third of the way down Gothic Avenue when you suddenly felt as though you were being watched. The hairs on the back of your neck stood to attention and you felt something was wrong in your gut. You picked up your pace, partially wishing you’d had the forethought to bring the Colt with you. 

Just before you made it to 4th Street a hand clamped down on your shoulder. You were trained for this. You knew exactly what to do. 

Without even so much as taking a breath, you spun quickly on your heels and sent your fist flying into the face of your potential attacker. They stumbled backwards with a loud groan of pain, hands flying to where you’d just punched them in the nose.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N!” He yelped, glaring at you as he held his nose. 

You stared at the man you’d hit wide eyed as the air felt like it escaped your lungs. 

“L-Luke?” You stuttered, wobbling on your feet. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“Nice to see you too.” He grumbled. “I should have known better than to sneak up on you.” 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You repeated. 

“Where’s Spencer?” He let go of his nose and dropped his hands to his sides.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You didn’t miss a beat.

“Sorry, I meant Andrew. Andrew Burnett, your husband.” He nodded his head towards the wedding band. 

“Goddamnit.” You growled, pinching the bridge of your nose. “How did you find us?” 

“We’re profilers, Y/N. Come on.” He rolled his eyes. “Garcia found Reid’s car. We tracked you to a used car lot and the car you bought with Spencer’s fake licence. We put out an APB on the Nissan and found it had been picked up on cameras in this town several times.” 

“Are the rest of the team here?” You folded your arms across your chest.

“No, just me. We’re shorthanded, remember?” 

“Good. You need to leave, you have no idea what you’ve walked into.” 

“Y/N,” he softened, stepping towards you. “Has Spencer done something? Has he threatened you?” 

“What? Why would you think that?” You scoffed.

“I spoke to some people in town and they seem to think he’s this violent, angry man.” 

“Who told you that?” You frowned at him. 

“That doesn’t matter. You need to tell me what’s going on. You understand that this looks bad, right?” Luke pleaded with you. 

“We just wanted to get away. Spencer’s been struggling since prison and I was feeling stifled at the BAU. So we decided it might be a good idea to just get away from it all for a while.” You tried to insist but you knew Luke wasn’t buying it.

“I might believe that if it wasn’t for the burner phones and fake IDs and burnt out cars.” He spat. “You were an FBI agent for a long time, you know what that looks like, don’t you?” 

It looks like two criminals on the run. It looks exactly like what it is.

“What are you implying, Luke?” You frowned heavily at him.

“If Spencer has done something, to you or to anyone else, you can tell me, Y/N. You can tell me anything.” He looked deep into your eyes and you felt for a brief moment that bond between the two of you. 

You could tell him anything, you knew that much. Luke Alvez had done nothing but stick by your side through everything and you knew this would be no different. 

You reached up and fiddled with the rose gold heart pendant around your neck. Did you love Spencer enough to protect him from this? Or was this finally your way out? 

***

Spencer threw the pillow over his head and groaned deeply as a heavy knock sounded on the front door. The alcohol from last night that still seemed to be drowning his brain cells meant it felt like whoever was knocking was doing so directly against his skull. 

His plan had been not to leave this bed all day. His drive to and from South Dakota plus an exuberant amount of sex had drained his energy and the scotch he’d consumed left him feeling dizzy. 

The knock came again, followed in quick succession by the doorbell. Whoever it was clearly didn’t plan to go away easily. He groaned, his head spinning as he forced himself out of the comfort of the plush bed. His eyes were blurry and made trying to find any semblance of clothes almost impossible. 

As a third knock sounded he managed to locate his boxers and stumbled trying to put them on. His legs wobbled frantically as he slowly crept from the bedroom and down the stairs. 

His stomach lurched as he walked and he briefly thought he might throw up but thankfully it passed. He continued through the living room towards the door as the doorbell rang once more.

“Jeez. Alright I’m coming.” He belched rather unceremoniously. “Jesus I’m still drunk.” 

He threw open the door, keeping hold of it to help steady himself. He blinked a few times against the bright red assault of colour on his retinas before focusing on her face. He groaned, suddenly wishing he’d made an effort to put more clothes on and that he wasn’t standing here in just his boxers with her on his front porch.

“Fucking hell, what do you want?” He leant against the door jamb, not trusting his wobbly legs to stand unaided. 

“Well that’s just rude.” Mary smirked at him and there was something menacing to it. “I just want to talk.” 

“We have nothing to talk about.” He stood back up, moving to close the door in her face only in his state she was faster and she shoved her hands against the wood to stop it from closing. 

“Oh I think we have a lot to talk about.” Her smirk grew. “Why don’t you invite me in, Spencer Reid?”

***

“You can tell me anything.” Luke repeated when you were silent for some time. 

You rolled your eyes and scoffed.

“Oh please, Spencer couldn’t hurt a fly and you know it.” You shook your head. 

“So he didn’t give you those bruises on your neck?” Luke looked quietly smug. 

You unfolded your arms and one of your hands went to your throat. You’d gotten used to them being there if truth be told and didn’t think much of them most of the time. 

“It’s not what it looks like.” You brushed your fingers over the bruises.

“Oh really? Because to me it looks like he tried to strangle you.” Luke hissed.

“Fucking christ, Alvez,” you spat back, grinding your teeth furiously. “You really want me to stand here and tell you I like it when he puts his hand around my throat when he fucks me?” 

You swore you saw the exact moment Luke’s heart shattered in his chest. His eyes softened and he stumbled backwards, his mouth falling open as a pain washed across his face. You instantly regretted your harsh choice of words but it was too late. 

“You’re…you’re sleeping with him?” He couldn’t hide the upset from his voice despite how hard he tried. 

“Yeah.” You nodded. “We’re, uh, together I guess.” 

“You are aware he’s sleeping with some young redhead, right?” Spencer spat. 

“What? How do you know about Mary?” You glared at him. 

“I met her! She told me that Spencer got aggressive with her when he couldn’t get it up. I didn’t believe her at first but then that McGill guy said you’d told him that your “husband” was a bully.” Luke sounded exasperated. 

“You talked to Jesse?” You spat. “Luke, you had no right! You had no right to follow us here in the first place. We’re happy here, just let it go.” 

“Happy? Happy?” He scoffed, stepping towards you. “You’ve got a fucking trail of bruises around your neck and I’m starting to think they aren’t the only ones.” 

Before you could reply, Luke was grabbing one of your hands and pushing the sleeve of the pink wool sweater up your arm revealing more finger shaped bruises circling your wrist. 

“Goddamnit, conejito, really? You’re happy? You’re happy being abused?” He dropped your arm and stepped back, sadly shaking his head. 

“It’s not abuse, jeez. We like rough sex Luke, so what?” 

“Oh my god, please stop talking about you and Reid’s sex life.” 

“Are you jealous?” You scowled at him. “Are you jealous because he’s got all you ever wanted?” 

He frowned at you, looking at you like he didn’t recognise you anymore, like he was standing in front of a stranger. He took a step back, shaking his head in disappointment. 

“Maybe once this is what I wanted, yeah. But you aren’t the same person anymore, are you? You’re not my conejito.” He rolled his lip between his teeth. 

“I was never your conejito, Luke.” You spat. “You need to leave, you shouldn’t be here.” 

“I’m not going anywhere until you explain to me what’s going on. What has Spencer done? What are you scared of, Y/N?” Luke begged.

“Spencer has done nothing but love me! We wanted a fresh start, away from the BAU and all the bullshit. I don’t need you anymore Luke, I don’t need you protecting me. Let me go, for the love of god just let me go!” You raised your voice. 

“I think something happened,” he stepped closer to you. “I think Spencer did something really bad and you’re covering for him because you’re scared. You don’t need to be scared, Y/N. Just tell me what he’s done and I can help you.” 

He reached for you but you slapped his hand away. 

“Don’t touch me. Spencer has done nothing wrong, Jesus just because you’re an FBI agent doesn’t mean you always have to think like one. Sometimes the simplest explanation is the right one. And in this case it’s as simple as we wanted to get away and we knew we’d never be able to do that as Y/N Y/L/N and Spencer Reid.” You growled at him, your back well and truly up. 

“You’re lying.” He bit back. “I know you better than you know yourself and I know when you’re lying. We’re the best goddamn profilers in the world and I swear to you, Y/N, we will find out what he’s done and we will come for him. Don’t let yourself become collateral damage.” 

“Burden of proof.” You shrugged, a wry smile on your face. You remembered so well having a conversation with Spencer in his apartment about the same subject not so long ago. “You say you’re the best goddamn profiliers in the world, but so are me and Spencer. And if, hypothetically, he'd done something, do you really think he’d leave behind any evidence?” 

“You could save yourself a lot of trouble if you just tell me what I need to know.” Luke continued to plead with you. 

“You need to know nothing, except for the fact Spencer and I love each other and we are in this together until the bitter end. So why don’t you hop back on the jet and leave us the fuck alone.” You spat so venomously that Luke was actually a little scared of you. 

“You’ve changed.” He shook his head sadly. 

“And you never will.” You pushed past him on the sidewalk, deciding to forgo Scout’s in lieu of going home. 

Your blood was boiling in your veins as you marched back towards the cabin, furious at the BAU for tracking you down, angry at Luke for coming all the way out here. 

But it was only the beginning. 

***

“What do you want from me?” Spencer sat on the couch while Mary stood over him, wishing he weren’t still tipsy and clouded by last night's scotch. 

“I want to know why two FBI agents are hiding out in our town using fake names.” She folded her arms across her chest. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He tried to insist but he wasn’t able to control his facial expressions the way he normally would. 

“Does the name Luke Alvez mean anything to you?” She scrutinised him and Spencer fought with his expression not to give anything anyway but the scotch was in control.

“No.” He shook his head, swallowing thickly.

“Hmm, I don’t believe you.” She spoke in a sickly sweet tone. “Because I met him and he seems pretty convinced that you and Rose…or should I say Y/N are FBI agents who just dropped their whole lives and ran off without a trace.” 

She met Luke? Luke is here? Why the fuck is Luke here? What the hell is happening? 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He folded his arms across his bare chest. 

“Let’s try this again,” she came closer to him. “And I swear to god if you’re not honest with me…”

“What? You'll do what?” He scoffed at her. 

“I’ll tell everyone the truth about who you are.” She shrugged.

“And you think they’d believe you?” He chuckled. “You think they will believe a story as convoluted as this? Sweetheart, they will think you’re crazy.” 

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Mary shrugged. “Fine, I’ll tell everyone I know that you sexually assaulted me.” 

Spencer stared at her in utter horror of what she was saying but she looked nothing by smug. His heart started hammering so hard in his chest he felt even sicker than he already had done. He searched for a sign she was bluffing but saw none. 

He was taken back to an interrogation room at a woman’s correctional facility. He could see her so clearly in front of him, Cat Adams telling him she was pregnant with his child. He could hear her wicked voice in his ears. 

I had Lindsey dose you in Mexico. You lost time. And I gave her very specific instructions to get you in the mood. 

“W-what?” He stammered. “That’s not the kind of thing you lie about.” 

“Tell me the truth then.” She shrugged. 

“I’m not telling you shit.” He shook his head, pushing himself up to his wobbly legs. 

“Well then, I guess I’ll go. Who should I start by telling? My dad? My brothers?” She started towards the door but Spencer quickly moved and grabbed her roughly by the wrist, somehow able not to fall flat on his face. 

“Listen you little bitch,” he shook her by her arm, growling in her face. “Do you have any idea how many people are actually assaulted every day? How many don’t report it because they’re scared they won’t be believed? And you want to use their real pain for your own sick gain?”

“You know you’re not helping yourself right? If you bruise me it’ll only make my story seem more believable.” She glanced at his hand on her wrist and he quickly let her go. “And don’t think I haven’t seen the bruises on your lovely wife. I’m sure she would back up my story.” 

“The only story she would back up is the one where you’re a desperate little whore who shamelessly wanted to fuck a man you perceived to married.” He snapped at her. 

“Well I guess we’ll see won’t we? Who’s going to believe the strange out of towner over the young, innocent girl.” She pouted. 

Stop being the boy who cried rape, Spencie. It’s not a good look. 

“What do you want? Why do you care who I really am? Fine, if it’s going to shut you up, yes, my name is Spencer Reid. I was an FBI agent and so was Y/N. We changed our names and left town. Why do you even care?” He sighed in exasperation. 

“I guess FBI agents make pretty good money, right?” She mused and Spencer felt his stomach coil into knots at the insinuation.

“That’s what this is about? You want money?” He scoffed.

“I told you I want out of this town. I work three jobs and I am nowhere close to having enough. Finding out your little secret is the best thing that could have happened to me. So if you don’t give me what I want, I will disgrace the former FBI agent Spencer Reid and tell everyone that you raped me. Ten grand should do it.” Her smirk grew tenfold and Spencer felt the anger rising throughout his whole body. 

But his brain was still clouded in a thick fog of alcohol. If he’d been at full capacity he would have easily been able to figure a way out of this, but right now all he could think of was killing Mary. The only problem with that was his guns and hunting knife were upstairs.

He could strangle her to death, feeling as she took her last breath. But he knew better, even in his state, that killing someone close to home would only come back to bite him in the ass. He’d been so careful up until now and he couldn’t ruin everything because of this stupid bitch. There had to be another way.

Mary was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, much like he was. He’d tricked everyone in this town into thinking he was just the mild mannered Andrew Burnett here with his wife to escape the big city. But in reality he was a violent killer, an injustice collector of sorts. Maybe Mary was his karma and now was his time to pay up. 

“Let’s just talk about this, please?” He begged her, eyes flickering somewhere off to the side as he sensed a movement by the kitchen. 

“No, no more talking.” She shook her head, clearly not noticing he was distracted. “You pay me now or I will go straight to the cops.” 

If she heard the sound of the gun being cocked, it was too late. And then suddenly the reverberation of a single gunshot filled the room and the bullet pierced straight through the back of Mary’s head, exiting between her eyes and continuing into the wall next to the front door.

The last sound Mary made was a small gasp as she collapsed on the floor in a pool of her own blood at Spencer’s feet. The shock was written all across his face as he looked up at you, still holding the smoking gun in your hand. 

You tucked it in your waistband and strolled closer to Spencer whose mouth was hanging open and wide eyes glared at you in a stupor. 

“W-what did you…? Why did you?” He croaked out as you stepped closer, not a single hint of remorse in your eyes. 

“Karma’s a bitch.” You shrugged simply. “And so was she.” 

Hahaha, this is about you.

Beware, beware, be sceptical,

Of their smiles, their smiles of plated gold.

Deceit so natural,

But a wolf in sheep's clothing is more than a warning.

Baa baa, black sheep, have you any soul?

No sir, by the way, what the hell are morals?

Jack be nimble, Jack be quick,

Jill's a little whore, and her alibis are dirty tricks.

So could you,

Tell me how you're sleeping easy,

How you're only thinking of yourself.

Show me how you justify,

Telling all your lies like second nature.

Listen, mark my words, one day (one day),

You will pay, you will pay.

Karma's gonna come collect your debt.

Aware, aware, you stalk your prey,

With criminal mentality.

You sink your teeth into the people you depend on,

Infecting everyone, you're quite the problem.

Fee-fi-fo-fum, you better run and hide,

I smell the blood of a petty little coward.

Jack be lethal, Jack be slick,

Jill will leave you lonely, dying in a filthy ditch.

So could you,

Tell me how you're sleeping easy,

How you're only thinking of yourself.

Show me how you justify,

Telling all your lies like second nature.

Listen, mark my words, one day (one day),

You will pay, you will pay.

Karma's gonna come collect your debt.

Maybe you'll change,

Abandon all your wicked ways,

Make amends and start anew again.

Maybe you'll see,

All the wrongs you did to me,

And start all over, start all over again.

Who am I kidding?

Now, let's not get overzealous here,

You've always been a huge piece of shit.

If I could kill you, I would,

But it's frowned upon in all fifty states.

Having said that, burn in hell, yeah.

Oh, oh, oh.

So tell me how you're sleeping easy,

How you're only thinking of yourself.

Show me how you justify,

Telling all your lies like second nature.

Listen, mark my words, one day (one day),

You will pay, you will pay.

Karma's gonna come collect your debt.

Karma's gonna come collect your debt.

Karma's gonna come collect your debt.

@bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom

[weeping-statue]

Ough I can’t wait for when you start Elden Ring it’s so good!

I was wondering if I could request some headcanons for Andrew Kreiss x Hunter reader that’s super friendly (kinda how Mike Hunter is canonically a friendly hunter) but they especially dote on Andrew and has a super soft spot for him?

Andrew is a little scared of Hunter in the beginning though because they look not very human? (They’re humanoid but they kinda have some animal like features like a long furry tail and animal ears + antler like horns (is it obvious that they’re slightly influenced by vicar Amelia? Sob))

Please and thank you! - 🔮

Also what Overwatch characters would you write for if it’s okay for me to ask?

I’m so sorry I got to this so late but here we are! I dunno if you saw but I did answer your question in this post! Also yesss the Bloodborne reference!! I love Amelia, I hated fighting her cause she was just too pretty!!! <3 Oh btw I just got Andrew’s train conductor skin which I have been trying to pull for, for like ages..

Also this is heavily influenced by Amelia because she’s just an icon

Andrew Kreiss with a friendly Hunter!Reader who just absolutely adores him!!

On one hand, he really enjoyed the attention

On the other, he really didn’t know what the fuck was going on

He saw you around the manor from time to time, but you looked human, at first..

With your pretty lace veils and white clothes that seemed to be adorned with matching accessories. He couldn’t really deny he’d been watching you with a description like that.

But when he finally got to be in a match with you he was terrified.

You were quite tall, and very wolfy-ish.

He’d thought you’d be out for blood but boy was he wrong.

Really wrong, when he saw all the other survivors dangling off of you.

Andrew wasn’t sure he could trust this. It all seemed far too nice. Especially with the way you waved him over, and seemed to show extra attention to him.

Brushing his hair out of the way with a claw and keeping him close with your tail. Or even giving him small kisses to the forehead that he refuses to admit are his favorites.

“Hey! Put me down!” Andrew yelled,

Fussing about being picked up by his teammate Kevin.

“Oh come on! Stop being a baby, their friendly this match and your the only one not having a fun time!” The cowboy retorts back, not listening to him.

Andrew stopped struggling in his arms, clearly given up and was taken to the others who were messing with the snow.

He was weary of you at first, you seemed nice, lovely too, but knowing his luck you’d probably just target him or find him disgusting. But that couldn’t be any farther from the truth.

You liked Andrew, he was sweet, and somewhat straight forward. He had purpose even if he didn’t know it.

You saw the cowboy make his return and waved them over with a smile. The mercenary peeked up from his position, being wrapped up in your tail for warmth before settling back down. Along with memory who had been building mini snowmen around you both.

“Guess who I found!” Kevin exclaimed, setting Andrew down in front of you.

Andrew hit the snowy ground with a thud, instinctively backing up into Kevin’s legs. Which made him panic a bit more.

In an attempt to soothe him, you reach a hand over to brush his hair back into place and gently graze his cheek with your knuckles. He turns his head away as you do this. Cracking an eye open to watch you, a blush spreading to his ears.

Heart pounding, and thoughts racing he didn’t even notice you drag him towards you and entrap him in your arms.

Kevin whistled before realizing his friend is finally ‘gettin some’ in his words. And bowed his hat in respect, moving to help memory with her snowmen.

Andrew’s daze seems to break when he you nuzzle into his head, puffs of warm air hitting him nicely.

“You’ve got to stop being so paranoid. I’ll mistake it is for you not liking me.” You mumble.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean too.. I just..” Andrew couldn’t finish, his words dying in his mouth. Thoughts all jumbled up and chaotic while he tries to focus on your warm touch. Self soothing in your arms.

When he was calm again, he hanged there limply, watching the serene winter wonderland in from of him. Content to an extent.

———————————————————————-

I watched Naruto while making this and it took me about two days to even make a dent.

It’s also really cold where I am and I think I’m turning into an ice cube😔

[2demondogs]

You, Covered in Spring | Hosea/Dutch

Tags: Drabble, fluff, young VanDerMatthews, drunk foolery Word Count: 753 A/N: Hosea seems like a piano guy. Finding GIFs is fucking hard bee tee dub dubs.

The small piano is old, although it is new to the saloon. Hosea had struck up an unfortunate conversation with the barkeep on the matter; it sobered him painfully from the comfortable buzz he'd been drifting on for the last hour.

He was tipsy, didn't give a damn who Shelby is and what his Pa sold the thing for; he just wanted to play the godblessed piano.

Fingers feeling as rusty as the key levers beneath the top, the extra shot of whiskey is the only thing staving off a rather uncharacteristic anxiety. 

Dutch went to the restroom, and Hosea supposes he'd gotten lost around the staircase, considering it's been a half hour with no sign of that brand-spanking-new, gaudy purple vest of his. It fits him nicely, so nicely — he cracks his knuckles as he slides onto the bench, shakes his hands free of the moderate ache it sparks in his joints — his neck warms at the thought of how it hugs his ribcage like a second skin.

Dutch knows how fine he looks, is especially aware of it as drunk as he was when Hosea last saw him. He doesn't worry he'll bed someone else; he doesn't really mind, so long as he gets a piece.

The cringe as he presses a key is hard to fight off — it is loud, and makes a few saloon-goers turn their heads. Thankfully, it's dim inside, and they can't see the burn of his neck; it's less excusable by drink than the flush on his cheeks, and for some reason the shame in his skill seems shameful in and of itself.

Closing his eyes, he lets his hands wander, feel. The gentler he presses the keys, the louder they seem, and he punches them instead, perhaps too rough. He readjusts when the ivory hits the wood too loud, too many times.

Soon, muscle memory has taken over his fingers and his mind. Clementine was the first song he'd learned all the way through, decades ago in his very first theatre group — they needed an organ-grinder, so to speak, and at the time he was the least convincing face they had on deck.

Late-teenaged Hosea was fine with that. He liked learning, although he would've preferred to learn how to lie with his eyes.

Eyes that must be glazed over, now, unwatching of the wall in front of him and instead seeing in his mind the cluttered costume closets of that backstage and the young, bright faces of the fresh adults he'd somehow found himself scowling between; he wishes, at times, he'd been a little—

"Thou art lost 'n' gon' for'ver."

Hosea nearly jumps out of his skin, overwhelmed with the saloon coming back into shape around him. That gaudy purple vest is by the piano, and he skips a note in his surprise; really, he should've seen Dutch standing just at the edge of his vision, but it's his voice that shocks him more.

He's never heard him sing, he realizes. Hosea is not a musician, not truly, and he does not play guitar or harmonica at their campfires. Neither does Dutch. The only music he ever seems interested in is wordless, or operas.

Now that he thinks of it, he'd pay good money to hear Dutch try to belt out one of those.

His voice is rich with alcohol and smoother than usual. They meet eyes, Dutch grinning broad around the words of a song not worth a smile; herring boxes with-out topses. He's gotten another drink, leans himself on the top of the piano as if it is belongs to him and Hosea is his paid entertainment — though the look in his eyes would suggest he were paid for something quite different.

Hosea returns his gaze to the keys; drove she ducklings to the water. Now that he's focusing, although not very well given that he cannot pay too intense an attention without fumbling the notes and rhythym, he hears other, very slurred voices join Dutch's. Fell in' the foamin' brine, ruby lips above th' wah-ter.

His own partner's words are sloshing some, his voice cracking handsomely around every few lines. How Hosea loves his crackling timbre, how it makes him sound his age for once instead of tired and dreadful like himself.

It loosens his collar, and he smiles wide when Dutch holds his glass to his mouth — wine, not his choice, but it burns pleasantly and the bitterness offsets just how sweet he feels meeting Dutch's crinkled, drink-bleary eyes.

[rottenroyalebooks]

Love Drunk - 0.1

Pairing: Eddie Munson x older sister!Harrington reader

Also includes: Steve Harrington x sister!reader (siblings)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Y/N Harrington left Hawkins as soon as she turned eighteen with her boyfriend to follow her dreams of being a Rockstar. Three years later, she returns to Hawkins alone and scarred. Now, she has to repair her broken relationship with her younger brother, all while trying to prevent herself from falling for a cute metal head who plays at the Hideout, where she works.

Warnings: None.

Next ->

Driving back to Hawkins, Indiana, was the last thing I thought I would do.

I wouldn't say I liked this hellhole and got away as soon as possible. I never wanted to see the all-too-familiar roads and trees filled with bad memories.

Why did I come back here if I hated this place so much? My life fell apart underneath my feet, and I had no choice.

The drive was long and taxing, but I had a caravan from the 60s that still worked beautifully, so I didn't have to stay in any motels. I left California with a few boxes of my possessions and my black and white Saint Bernard Baxter, and we hit the open road together. It was a long trip, but eventually, I pulled into the driveway of my family home, which was pitch black.

Being late into the night, I was not surprised that the house was dark. I pulled my van into the backyard so it wouldn't be seen by anyone who drove by. I turned my van off and climbed into the back of my caravan, grabbing my travel bag and waking Baxter up so he wouldn't be sleeping outside in the cold.

I tried the back door, but it was locked, so I had to grab the spare key that was always kept underneath my mother's favorite garden gnome. I scoffed, showing the key to Baxter, who tilted his head. "See? They're predictable."

Once I unlocked the door and returned the key to its hiding place, I crept into the kitchen slowly, with Baxter trailing behind me and lazily trudging around. I poked my head into the garage, seeing it bare of any cars, and scoffed, "Nobody's home? They're probably away on business again." I pulled myself back into the house and closed the door.

I started thinking about my little brother Steve. He must have been nineteen, probably off at some fancy university far away from this town. Good for him.

I found my way to my old bedroom, letting Baxter in with promises of bedtime, and closed the door behind me. The room had barely been touched, though my parents were never home enough to care about what had happened. My bed was a mess, my posters were still on the walls, my desk was nearly covered in junk, my old makeup lay on the dresser, and my records were still in a box I had put together.

Sighing happily, I put my backpack on a chair and watched as Baxter jumped onto my bed, making himself as comfortable as possible. I sat on the bed next to my nightstand, which held the phone I had begged my parents to put in for me. I picked it up, hearing the dial tone and beeping as I pressed one of the few numbers I had memorized.

I pressed the phone to my ear, listening to the ringing. Finally, after a few rings, there's a male voice coming from the receiver, "I swear to god, somebody better be dead if you have the bright idea of calling me at three in the fucking morning."

I held back a laugh, "Jim! Hey, it's Y/N,"

I could almost feel his mood lighten, "Y/N? I never thought I'd hear your voice again! How've you been, kid?"

"Could be better. it could be worse. I'm back in town wondering if the pub needs a bartender."

He hummed lightly, "Luckily for you, Paul retired two weeks ago, and I've been having trouble finding decent help. You got any experience bartending?"

I smiled, thankful that he didn't push my return further, "I was a bartender for three years. I kept my nights busy."

"Perfect, you're hired. Can I go back to bed now?"

Giggling, I nodded, knowing he couldn't see me, "Yes, yes, sorry for calling so late. Goodnight, Jim." I placed the phone in the receiver and began stretching, getting myself ready to sleep.

My peace didn't last very long as my door swung open, revealing none other than my little brother, who wasn't so little anymore, welding a baseball bat in his hands. I jumped slightly and held my hands up in surrender, "Whoa, whoa! Steve?"

He stared at me, his features melting into a look of surprise, "Y/N?" He kept the bat high up in the air.

The two of us spoke in unison, "What are you doing here?"

"I asked you first, twerp."

He looked at me with an exasperated expression, "I'm literally the one with the bat."

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest as the adrenaline died down, "I have an attack dog. Don't make me sick him on you."

He glanced behind me, looking at Baxter; smirking, he just looked back at me as he lowered the bat, "Oh yeah, he's an attack dog alright."

I looked over my shoulder and turned to look at Baxter, who laid there unbothered; passed out nearly dead to the world. If it weren't for the slow rise and fall of his upper body, I would have thought he was dead.

"I could be facing an actual murder right now, and you would just be blissfully aware until you woke up to see my dead body."

Steve sighed, "N/N, what happened?"

I turned back to him, "I'm back in Hawkins. Mom and Dad don't need to know. Hopefully, I'll find a place of my own soon. Trust me, you'll barely know I'm here."

He just stared at me, his expression unreadable as he contiplated my words. He grew a lot since I last saw him. His hair was shorter back then. He was shorter. He's no longer the scrawney kid I had to protect in my senior year, when he was merely a freshman.

I probably looked different, too, but in other ways.

"I should probably get some rest, I have an early shift." He awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. I nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, kid. We'll talk later,  I want to know everything I've missed." I smirked, grabbing the covers and pulling them over my legs, "Hit the lights on the way out?"

He chuckled lightly, nodding, "Yeah, goodnight, Melody." He baked out of the doorframe, flipping the lights off for me before closing the door, leaving me to stare up at the ceiling; which still had the glow in the dark stars on it.

Baxter rolled over a bit, cuddling into my side as we got comfortable in my bed.

[geneticdriftwood]

lost and found pt. 1: missing pieces (dickroy wip snippet)

Summary:

"In the photo, Roy’s head hangs backwards over the arm of their old couch. His face is covered in doodles that Dick had helped a tiny Lian draw, all in multicolored permanent marker. He’s trying to look dramatically outraged, but the effect is ruined by the bright grin he can’t quite suppress. His gaze is directed off camera, to where Lian is giggling delightedly in Dick’s lap, a bright streak of blue smudged across her right cheek. The look in his eyes is full of such intense love and devotion that Dick forgets, for a moment, how to breathe."

Or: Dick thinks about the past and fails to change the future.

A/N: this is a little snippet from pt. 1 of lost and found, my wip au where Lian and Damian become friends while she's running around gotham still "dead". they get themselves stranded half a galaxy away, and in the process of rescuing them, dick and roy finally work through their issues and figure their shit out. takes place shortly after bruce returns from the time stream, pre-nu52 canon but with lian's current death plotline

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

The last kid from his gymnastics class has finally been picked up, so Dick heads to the staff locker room to rinse off before going home. 

Honestly, Dick hates this locker room. It’s nothing like the tiny one at his old gym in New York, with its cracked mirror, and its shower with shit water pressure, and its photos and stickers and children's artwork on every locker. This one is too big, all shiny and new and impersonal, remodeled, like the rest of the gym, with money from a generous anonymous donation. Because Bruce can’t resist shoving himself into every fucking corner of Dick’s life.

That’s probably enough bitching about Bruce for now. He doesn’t want to hit his daily quota before he even finds out what happened last night with Damian. 

Dick finishes his shower and towels off, changing into a clean pair of sweatpants and an old Wonder Woman t-shirt. Gym bag over his shoulder, he waves goodbye to his coworkers and steps out into the soft light of early evening. He throws a helmet on, hops on his bike, and pulls out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of his apartment. 

The fog of stress and exhaustion has finally cleared from his head, and he’s feeling more like himself than he has all day, but something in his chest still aches. 

His last group of the day had been the tumbling class for 5-6 year olds. It's one of his favorites to teach–– it’s mostly just playing games, and he loves seeing how carefree and comfortable in their own skin the kids that age still are. But there’s moments when he looks at them and chokes on the air in his lungs, unable to swallow the grief. 

Sophie had landed her first cartwheel today, and all he could see was Lian, running into the tower kitchen to proudly show him that look, she finally got the feet right! And he and Donna had applauded, and let her lick the cookie dough off the spoon, and listened as she’d sat at the kitchen island, kicking her feet and telling them all about some new animal fact she’d learned. 

He thinks about calling Roy and sharing the memory. But he doesn't know if he should, hasn't talked to him recently enough to know whether the thought of past joy would be a comfort, or just a painful reminder of loss.

It aches down to his bones, that he doesn’t know. The distance between him and Roy feels so wrong, like he’s missing a limb. 

Dick pulls in and parks in front of his favorite little corner grocery store. Dick wants to say he doesn’t know how all this started, but, well, he definitely does. He just doesn't particularly want to think about it.

This is his own damn fault, he knows. Roy’s been trying to reach out, lately. They see each other semi-regularly, at Justice League meetings or during the occasional mission. Out of costume sometimes, too, at someone’s birthday dinner or a West family cookout. But Dick’s had a lot of practice dodging conversations he doesn’t want to have. And normally Roy doesn’t let him get away with that, but they both know better than to start this fight in public. 

So Dick avoids being alone with Roy, and Roy stares at him from across the room, eyes burning holes in the side of Dick’s head. Between the two of them, silences have always been so much louder than screaming matches. 

Dick glances down. He’s a little surprised to notice that he has his phone out and opened to Roy’s contact, where a much younger face looks up at him. Donna had taken the picture, one afternoon when it had just been the three of them and Lian in the tower.

In the photo, Roy’s head hangs backwards over the arm of their old couch. His face is covered in doodles that Dick had helped a tiny Lian draw, all in multicolored permanent marker. He’s trying to look dramatically outraged, but the effect is ruined by the bright grin he can’t quite suppress. His gaze is directed off camera, to where Lian is giggling delightedly in Dick’s lap, a bright streak of blue smudged across her right cheek. The look in his eyes is full of such intense love and devotion that Dick forgets, for a moment, how to breathe.

It’s not like Dick wants things to stay like this. He misses his friend so much it burns inside. But he doesn’t know how to fix this. He’s afraid to try. Dick feels stuck, frozen. Why the hell is this so hard? 

His thumb hovers over the call button on the screen. He really, really wants to hear Roy’s voice.

Suddenly his phone vibrates, and a text from Tim pops up at the top of the screen.

dropping itty bitty bat off at ur place, eta 20min. if u arent home to stop me i WILL be stealing all ur zesti.

The tension of the moment breaks, and Dick is back to being just a guy in a parking lot. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and pauses for a moment before pocketing his phone and turning to head into the store. He’s got a kid he needs to make dinner for, and he should probably restock on Zesti.

As he pushes the door open and is hit with cool air and the sounds of shoppers, a little voice in his head whispers “coward”. It sounds uncomfortably like Roy’s.

[jtargaryen18]

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 26 Preview

I'm hoping to get this out this weekend but I'm volunteering so I can't make that promise. But very soon...

Warnings: Sexual references, references to violence

Dark dreams pulled Steve from sleep. It was 3:37 AM according to his phone.

With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed, propping his pillow behind his wife’s back in his place. She was sound asleep and that had him smiling. The night before in the bath had been delicious. He had her again later in bed.

She’d need to sleep in after that.

So much raw emotion welled up in his chest as he watched her. His wife took up a lot of room when she slept, sprawling over the bed at night. Over him. He loved it, especially now that she mostly slept nude as he did. She was beautiful, her radiance and confidence growing by the day.

As he got dressed, he kept stealing glances at her. She’d brought a hell of a lot more than just status into his life. His wife challenged him. She challenged everyone. As delicate as she appeared now, asleep in his bed, she was formidable as a lioness, especially when defending those she cared about.

Steve couldn’t wait to have children with her. How fierce would their sons be? Hell, his daughters would be fierce too. He hoped they looked like her.

Making his way downstairs, thoughts of the family he wanted faded like dreams as he reached his study, returning to reality. Wincing in the light when he flicked it on, he saw the office was just as neat and sterile as it had ever been. Steve always had strict rules about who was allowed in his study, just like his father had.

Those rules didn’t apply to his wife, he realized, who came and went from his center of business as she damn well pleased.

Those memories he loved. Holding her in his chair, spanking her over the desk. Twice. That last one had led to him just taking her like a beast on that refined wooden surface. It had him stirring just thinking about it. Steve wanted more memories like that.

He wanted more.

What would it be like to see toys littering the floor one day? Or to have little drawings left for him on his desk?

With a deep sigh, he sank heavily into his chair.

Ever since his wife had entered his life, she’d blurred the lines between his personal life and business. Steve walked a fine line between frustration and ecstasy the entire time with her, his need for her so often consuming his thoughts.

In the meantime, everything he thought he had control of was unraveling.

Barnes was coming for him, swiftly and methodically, and he needed to deal with that before he lost respect and credibility in that dark world. The fact that his rival was getting away with hitting his turf made Steve look weak, incompetent. Barnes striking his home, his family’s home, demanded a harsh answer. His leadership of the families would be defined by the decision he made here.

But Steve also needed to protect his family. And hadn’t he done a poor job of that lately? His sister had been severely beaten by her husband and before that Clint had been shot. Hansen’s attack on their home left Belova and Dyson both laid up.

And his enemies seemed as obsessed with his wife as he was. If Hansen had gotten his hands on her…

Barnes had more than adequately demonstrated that no one was beyond his reach.

That had to change.

Steve had tried to be diplomatic in calling the meeting with the other family leaders. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Why was he trying to win the other families over when at least one of them was gunning for his?

“Up early, boss?” Luca looked in, making Steve realize he didn’t even remember to close the door.

Steve nodded.

The portly cook walked just inside the office door. It was the only time of the day he ever saw the man in a pristine white apron.

“Your father used to do the same thing. Couldn’t sleep the night before. He’d just get up and get started. Always admired that about him.”

Steve snorted. “Probably never found himself in a situation this fucked up.”

“Sure he did,” Luca told him. “Someone challenged him, he hit them hard and he hit them fast. That’s all. No mercy. No regrets.”

Luca made it sound so easy.

“You got a new consigliere yet?” Luca asked.

Steve nodded. “I’m going with Murdock.”

Luca nodded his approval. “Good choice. We’ll see what he’s made of these next few weeks.”

That was an understatement.

“I’m calling a meeting this evening,” Steve told him. “If I remember right Dyson’s going to get medical tests this morning?”

“That’s right,” the cook said. “Him and Belova both. They should be back from the hospital by this afternoon. We sending Scott with them?”

Steve shook his head. “I’ll be here all day. Send Neal.”

Luca nodded, closing the door behind him on the way out of the office.

Steve would spend some time getting his thoughts together. Then, with his crew, they’d decide how best to deal with Barnes.