#anti blue light glasses

[thewirewitch]

Next time I get new glasses lenses I'm going to tell them EXPLICITELY that I don't want any coating on my lenses.

No blue light filter, no UV filter, no anti-glare.

Nothing.

I just want to see colors properly, man :(

[tonycries]

Night(wing) Crawler - G.S.

Synopsis. Trapped with a too-smug, too-handsome Nightwing by the very same villains you were trying to swindle was not how you planned to spend your night. Luckily for you, Gojo can think of a much better way to pass the time.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! anti-hero!reader, Nightwing! Gojo, BATMAN AU, enemies-to-Iovers, forced proximity, píning, MARATHONS, manhandIing, Gojo goes FÉRAL, overstím, he is BIG, making it fit, cervíx kíssing, tummy buIges, BREÉDING, RIPPING suits, spítting, cúmplay, chokíng, arguing during it, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, matíng presses, making Gojo CRY, oraI (f + m rec.), p talking, breaking furniture, Red Hood! Geto cameo, slight vioIence, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 10.4k

A/N. *evil laughs* I just had to.

“You.”

“You.”

“Enchanté, sweetheart.” And Gojo - oh, it’s so undeniably Gojo Satoru’s sapphire gaze behind that satiny mask - tilts over his tall, bubbling glass of champagne towards you with the cockiest of winks. A wink. 

Your teeth set on edge - out of all the pompous, boorish high society balls that he could crash undercover, it just had to be the one that you were planning to heist. 

And by the most pompous, boorish hero of all. 

If looks could kilI, then you’d be upturning Gojo’s grave to finish him off yourself already. 

“Didn’t think you were one for masquerade balls.” He’s leaning in to brush off an invisible piece of lint from your shoulder, words coming out in scorching hot puffs against your ear. Low, hoarse. “Changed much during your lil’ vacation, hm? How is the Gotham State Penitentiary this time of year?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How’s the hottest one of the Bat Family doing?” You’re sniping back, head cocked innocently. Silent for just how long it takes for Gojo’s eyes to widen, breath to hitch- “Y’know…Toji Fushiguro. How’s Batman doing, Nightwing?”

There’s a strangely sharp glint in his stare, and his traitorously handsome jaw clenches through a wild grin. 

With a wide sweep of the bustling ballroom, he murmurs over the live orchestra. “You’re gonna give me away~”

“Don’t even have to try.” You’re tilting your head up in defiance when he closes in so many sultry inches, all the way until you could feel the heated press of Gojo’s ticking biceps through his formal suit. Heady masculine cologne invading your senses, “That mask does more than enough damage.”

Honestly, what fool dons a disguise with a mask that looks exactly like his hero one? 

Though, you weren’t complaining - if Nightwing accidentally provided the perfect distraction for you to swindle future big-shot congressman and business heir, Naoya Zenin, out of his precious diamonds then so be it.

The fact that Batman’s protégé would be humiliated was only a plus. 

Scoffing, “So what you’re saying is you want me out of it? Scandalous, but I don’t fuck before a first date.”

A very, very big plus. 

“Never in your wildest dreams, Nightwing.” You’re pettily raising your voice just a pitch to make the sculptured man in front of you squirm, as much as he would never admit it. “S’it that you don’t fuck or you don’t get to? Come here to try out your hand with the wives of the bourgeoisie?”

“I’m here on business, sweetheart. Gotta get to that brat Naoya’s office.” Gojo nods towards a gaggle of ogling older ladies, ever-the-charmer. 

It’s enough to make them swoon, and - you hate to admit it - for your heart to stutter just a beat. 

Because Gojo Satoru looked good. All powerful, lean muscle that carried him so many numerous inches over six feet. The rich, yolkish lighting makes his dark blue jacket look almost painted to his slender waist, and those meaty, meaty thighs. 

Easily the sexiest man in this room full of sordid businessmen and shifty politicians.

If you dared to let your gaze roam, you’re sure they’d stray past his milky collarbones to catch a hint of the even tighter black and blue hero suit he was surely wearing under. 

He looked more than good, if you were being honest.

But when has one of Gotham’s most notorious cat burglars ever needed to be honest?

And you’re so caught up in pondering just what the others see in him that it gives you an electric jolt to feel the doughy pads of Gojo’s gloved fingertips brushing down your thigh. Feeling as if he was searing through your saucy, glittering gown.

There’s a tremor of amusement when his sensory tips meet the cold hilt of your famed dagger. Hidden. 

Tonality dripping with something sickly sweet that makes your tummy lurch, “And it seems like I’m not the only one, Prowler. The Zenin diamonds?”

“The Zenin drug smuggling ring?”

You both give a curt, almost-missable nod. Your eyes back to analyzing the sprawling celebrations for any sign of the aforementioned Zenin heir himself.

Though, not for long- “Y’know, maybe I should send you back to your lovely penitentiary right now, girl. Already did once.” Whispered right against your sensitive earlobe. 

“Darling–” Your plastic smile is almost painful as you feel the interested stares from around the room. You did make quite an eye-catching pair, especially so close. Hand drifting to his beefy, veined forearm and pinching, “-you’re too close~”

“I don’t think I’m close enough.” 

Nails clawing down his smooth skin and towards his pale wrist. “Close enough for me to strike a vein without a single person here knowing any better.”

“That’s kinda hot–” Gojo’s lips quirk upwards, sleek brows quirking up to the curtain of his snowy bangs. And you don’t know where to look - down below, where he’s adjusting his pants with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, or up above where his irises follow a triangle between both your eyes n’ your lips, dead-on. “-for a petty thief.”

“You little-”

“Big, actually.” And of course, he has to interrupt with a look on his face that tells you he knew you were fighting to not take a glance downwards and confirm for yourself. “I’m very big.”

“I hear words compensate.” You’re batting your lashes through your own lacy Stygian mask, too close. “And I hear Toji’s bigger.”

“Enough with the-”

“My my, young love sure is fiery!” Saved by a rough, booming voice to your side of the festivities. Though, you’re not sure if it would technically be considered a “save” when you’re finally snapping your head and recognizing the source of those words. “I always do tell Naoya ‘ere that it’s time to settle down. No such luck so far!”

As Naobito Zenin slaps an overly harsh hand down on his son’s crisp, suit-cladden shoulder with a bark of laughter, you mutter. “Can’t imagine why.”

Though, perhaps it was a bit too loud.

Because Naoya’s nostrils flare in a sharp inhale, and you’re hearing Gojo stifle a breathy rumble of laughter from his broad chest- shit, since when were you two even pressed up like this? No wonder it must have looked…romantic to an outsider.

“Naobito Zenin, at your service.”

“Ah, my apologies for being so rude.” You’re pushing away from the hero as if it burned - and by the strange tingling on your skin, maybe it really did. Reaching over to the wizened, leering man for a handshake. “I’m-”

“Mrs. Gojo, of course.” Gojo gets there first. “My wife and I are new to Gotham, you see. We wanted to make connections here in our new home.” A warm hand casually slings over your shoulder, slender digits tight. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

What….the fuck.

And perhaps you should’ve screamed bloody murder - maybe that would make the Zenin’s take pity on you after an encounter with this lecher. 

“That’s right.” Perhaps you shouldn’t have leaned in just as you did to his hard front. But if the way that Gojo was momentarily stunned told you anything, it was that you were doing something right. “It’s all been quite a change.”

Naoya’s thin, mahogany brows raise silently - new to the city and already invited to one of the most elite social gatherings of the year? That certainly was intriguing.

“Gojo? Gojo…so familiar…” Naobito muses out loud, and your veins boil with anxiety as his face scrunches. Before he clicks his fingers with flourish, “A-ha–! You wouldn’t have anything to do with the revered Gojo Enterprises now, would you?”

Your faux-husband places a hand over his heart, “Ah, my most beloved little project.” 

“President?”

“CEO.”

Calling a multi-billion dollar foreign company a “little project” was generous, you think. But what was even more so was- “Though, it’s nothing in comparison to what I have coming up soon.” Gojo gasps dramatically, “Oh! We probably shouldn’t reveal much, however. Confidential, only friends and family.”

Naobito Zenin was practically frothing from the mouth at this point. And you notice that even Naoya’s suspicious furrow had almost completely disappeared. Almost. 

“C-confidential-” The older man squeals, before bumping a fist into Gojo’s puffed-up chest. “Why, we’re friends now, aren’t we? Tell me tell me- just between you and I, how big are we talking?”

“Big.”

“Bigger than Gojo Enterprises? S-surely impossible-”

You cut in, “Bigger. Better, considering the association with the parliament we’ve negotiated this time. Whoops- my apologies, darling, that simply slipped out.”

And through it all, Naoya stays unnervingly quiet - even while his father tries and fails to hide his squawks of delight. 

It would’ve almost been comedic if the air wasn’t so cut-throat tense. As if the clinking glasses and chatter of the ball were infinite miles away from your little bubble now. 

Past animosity almost evaporated, you’re managing to meet Gojo’s eyes. His cloud-pale eyebrows wiggling with a knowing waver, and you find yourself plastering on an exaggerated look of distress before carrying out the finishing blow.

“Oh, but you know–” Patting the delicious curves of his pecs, “-my husband has been so stressed lately. I’m afraid he’ll overwork himself mad with this new project.”

“Aw, dear…”

“I do wish he’d take on a partner to collaborate and split the innumerable profits with. But, alas, there hasn’t been a company competent or high-profile enough for our taste.”

And by the sharp elbow Naobito digs into Naoya’s ribs, you already know that you’ve won. Well, that the two of you have won.

Reluctantly, almost as if every word made his bones ache, his son purses out a tight. “Well, Mr. and Mrs. Gojo, my father and I certainly hope this isn’t too forward, but we believe that- ah, we might just be exactly what you’re looking for.”

You both adopt a look of faint surprise, “Oh?”

Another nudge, another step forward. 

“Apologies for the late introduction, but I’m Naoya Zenin. Future congressman, future CEO of the immensely successful Zenin Corporations” Each syllable practically oozing with icy smugness, “I believe I know what you want, and we are it. Please, allow me to reach out on behalf of our Zenin hospitality and lead the two of you to our private business room; where we can discuss this further…in-depth.”

Somehow, the trail end of his sentence made you shudder. 

“Ah, how wonderful!” Gojo’s arm wraps possessively around your waist, “Lead the way, Naoya.”

And if you were lucky to be led straight to the dragon’s lair of treasures, then you were even luckier when one of those said dragons stayed behind.

Indeed, Naobito was held back in conversation with another undoubtedly important parliamentary figure as you and Gojo followed Naoya out of the massive, gilded doors. Silent. Rigid. 

“Take him out. Drug-smuggling documents, then diamonds.” Gojo rasps from the corner of his mouth, voice barely audible for you let alone the stiff figure a few steps in front of you. Leading you along windingly decadent corridors and staircases. 

You’re shaking your head, eyes following the velvety curtains and gleaming ornaments on display and wondering whether you should increase your scope for this heist even more than just the diamonds. “Diamonds, then whatever. I don’t give a shit what you do.”

“Drug-smuggling documents, then diamonds, then prison for you, girl.” He snarks back, “Unless– you wanna make up for this appalling date by actually going out with-”

“We’re here.”

It seems that the Zenin’s did have quite an affinity for interrupting you two at the most important of times. 

And the only thing keeping Gojo from curling his features into a sneer is the sight of those rich, mahogany double doors in front of him. This was it. 

The infamous Zenin office room.

With enough secrets to overturn the nation, and– Gojo sneaks a glimpse at the determined set of your gaze - enough diamonds, too. 

Naoya’s spindly fingers twist on the burnished golden door handles, letting them creak open just a few inches ajar. Dim lighting floods out through the crack, and you’re seeing the outline of an expensive cross between an office room and a lounge room.

He gestures his hands in a wave inside with an almost-bored sort of drawl, “Guests first, I insist.”

Your fingers itch towards the dagger strapped to your thigh, and Gojo’s stare narrows. Tone steely yet polite, “No no, as the future master of the house-”

“I insist.”

“Alright…” He plants a staggering palm on the small of your back, “Come along then, sweetheart.”

Tentatively stepping onto the luxurious red carpet inside at the same time, you swear from your cunning optics you see Naoya’s lips twitch-

And then it happens.

All in the span of a nanosecond that neither you nor Gojo have the time to react - the floor and the ceiling crack open in an almost metre-wide line dividing you two and the door, a thick wall of metal snapping! shut in place before you can blink, and suddenly– suddenly, you’re trapped. 

“Fuck-”

“No!”

“You must excuse me for the rude welcome-” Naoya’s voice drifts over, and you’re noticing that the gleaming wall had a small window pane. Enough for you to see a sliver of crazed, honeypool eyes, “-Prowler and Nightwing.” 

He knows.

Of course, he knew. You were here trapped between a thoroughly bolted, heavy-duty panel of metal harder than diamonds. Ones especially made for trained heroes and- well, you. 

And one furious bang! of your fist told you that not even your overpowered strength would be able to break through - it barely even rattled the barrier’s bolts that proudly stood circumference of your head. Running the expanse from floor to ceiling, you were backed into a corner. 

Looking behind you, you’re met with the rest of the gleaming office; shelves upon shelves of books, a busy desk, cushy loveseats. And no window. 

No exit.

He’s spitting, face twisting into heaps of wrinkles as he grins. “My father might be half-blind, but I’m not.” Pointing accusingly, “You almost got me, I admit. But any fool could tell- the tension, the stupid flirting. Who else would it fuckin’ be if not for you two?”

Crossing your arms, you do your best to keep out the tremble in your voice. “Quite frankly, I’m almost insulted.”

“I’m not.”

And you do not glower at Gojo…this time. To firmly disprove Naoya’s point, if anything. 

The other man clenches his teeth, throwing his hands. “I don’t care what you feel. This is checkmate, so now you both simply die.”

Running your hands through your cage, you could practically feel the power. The strength. “Well, it seems you’re not just beauty- well, you’re not beauty at all, actually.”

“Don’t forget, he isn’t brains either.” Gojo pipes up, nodding towards you. “I know this daddy’s boy wasn’t the one to make this lair. It reads more like the works of-”

“Shut up shut up shut up-” You and him watch in mild astonishment as your captor drags his fingers through his hay-blond locks and pulls. You swear you could count every red, popped blood vessel in his bulging eyes. “-insufferable fucking- I have you two at my mercy, and when my father hears about this he will be pleased. Very pleased.” 

You will yourself not to gulp, “There’s nothing you can do to us.”

“Wait and watch. After all, I am the future head of Zenin Corporations, I’ll kill both of you. It doesn’t matter how.”

Before you can torment him any further, he turns tail and throws a withering glare your way. Hands on the doors, it feels like something leaden is forming in your throat. “Better sit tight until the ball ends and we can have our ah- fun little afterparty.”

.

.

.

“Can’t you stop that infernal noise, girl.”

You’re halting your body mid-punch, a thin line of sweat trickling from your temple. Heaving out, “I don’t see you helping.” 

Not even waiting for a response before you’re back to gifting the office wall with a solid CLANG! You’d already attempted the same with the metallic partition, to not even a single crater. And by the unaffected state of the rest of the room, you’re slowly realizing that every one of these four walls might just be made from the same material. 

Fuck.

BANG!

“For fucks-”

“What are you doing, then?” You’re whirling around to face a precarious Gojo Satoru, standing on one foot on top of a high bookshelf and murmuring utterly ridiculously to something clutched in his palm. “An interpretive dance routine won’t get us out of here.”

He’s been like this for the entire time - it could’ve been hours, it could’ve been minutes - since you’ve been trapped here. All he’s done was rifle through a few files and snatch a few documents. And…this. 

Hell- you didn’t even find your diamonds, yet. 

“You think about ‘us’ a lot?”

Rolling your eyes- you can’t even bother with a scowl. Instead, turning back to spend your time planting CRASH! after CRASH! over his protests. 

“Keep it down, sweetheart, I can’t-” Punching your way through even harder - making even louder noise, on purpose. “-hear-” Perhaps you could kill him before Naoya even gets here. “-the mic-” 

“What?” You’re grunting, ears still ringing from the deafening noise yourself. 

And just then you find your brows knitting together because Gojo Satoru looks so…satisfied. It strikes you to your very core. Which was definitely never a good sign. 

Jumping down from the bookshelf in one, fluid motion, he shows off a tiny rounded gadget grasped in one hand. “You’ll see.” Gojo purrs at your questioning gaze, winking. “You’ll see very soon. We’ll be fine, promise.”

Yeah, you really didn’t like the sound of that.

But before you can swivel back to your target - you swear you were seeing a crack - Gojo’s tucking away the mysterious object into his jacket pocket and taking it off. Letting the silken fabric hit the floor with a dull schwf! Right along with his tie, his belt-

“Wh-what are you doing?” It comes out more breathless than you’d have liked. 

“Changing into my supersuit, that’s what.” He lifts up his mask to roll his eyes, full and well knowing. The pinkish perk of his tongue drags a slow glide of wetness across his lips as he unbuckles his belt - looking you straight in the eyes. “Why? This turn ya on, sweetheart?”

“No.”

Yes.

Fuck, you hated how even despite turning away, you couldn’t help but angle your body just so that you’re ogling Gojo from your peripheries. You hated how every thud of clothes hitting the floor made a fresh new layer of goosebumps bead along your clammy, heated skin. 

It was so hot. 

“You should do the same– you must be getting warm with all that ruthless, blundering violence.” Comes the sing-song voice from behind you, oh- he was enjoying this. It sent Gojo’s heart racing to watch the way you were all flustered because of his actions. His body. 

Scoffing, another punch. “You just want to see skin, lecher.”

“With a body like that- fuck yeah.”

“Save it for the wives of the bourgeoisie.”

“Scared, Prowler?”

Oh, for the love of-

“Not on your life, Nightwing.”

And then you do it.

You make the mistake of giving into your instinctual desire to glare at Gojo Satoru, as if your eyes never wanted to leave him. And then you see it. 

All his long, tantalizing muscles and curves - being hugged so tightly in that black and blue suit that you could count every one of his eight washboard abs. Fuck. Gojo’s body seemed to go on for miles, pulling the latex tightly over his rippling flesh. 

Right on cure, your eyes trail from the bulging valley of his pecs, to the ridges of his v-line to…you gulp.

You always did think it gave him an unfair advantage - just how sexy he was. It was one of the reasons he managed to distract you enough to lock you up in Gotham State Penitentiary last time, after all. 

Tittering, “Take a picture it’ll-”

“Take this fist to your face.”

“Kinky~ it’ll only make me harder, y’know.”

Hard-er. 

And all of a sudden it was as if the tension in the room was like molasses, and you were drowning in the saccharine concoction. Nightwing- Gojo really was too cocky for his own good, but what was even worse was he could back it up, too. 

Your skin flares up with a burning breeze, and your voice comes out peaky. “Fine.” Through his mask, you swear his eyes widen once your hands fly up to take off your own. And then to the zipper of your gown, “But only because it’s so hot.”

Pulling it down just an inch before-

“Wait…let me?”

Just a flash of that glossy black suit of yours, just a single sneak-peek of it enveloping your skin and he was pressing you to the wall. Ravenous.

You were gorgeous. 

Balmy heat of his body making yours sizzle up, all Gojo needs is only one of his massive palms to pin both your wrists wayyy above your head. Meaty thighs massaging up against yours to stop your jostling body. 

Lips twitching up into a smirk at the carnal hunger in your eyes, “Let me…help with that, yeah?” His gravelly words resound in your eardrums and make your thighs squeeze. The fat fringes of his digits draw slow lines down the side of your figure, memorizing. “S’a hero’s duty, after all.” 

You’re growling, “Do it. Do it if you’re not scar- ah!”

But that’s exactly what Gojo had been waiting for. 

Exactly the moment to make your pretty voice break, exactly the moment for him to tuck a finger behind your back and all but rip–! your dress from the back.

“Would ya look at thaaaat-” He’s snickering out in awe as your flimsy gown falls halfway through tatters around you, all along with your dagger. Revealing a snug suit that makes his mouth simply water. All gorgeous lines of your body that he can’t get enough of. “Always fuckin’ hated this suit.”

His sinful pants strike you in gusts when Gojo leans his admiring head down, down, down to push right into the valley between your heaving tits. “Made me s-soooo fucking hard every time I saw ya in it.”

Did you just make Gojo Satoru stutter?

No wait- even better, was that achingly hard outline bumping right between your legs what you thought it was?

He’s rubbing the swollen outline of his mushroom tip at the target of your hot core, drinking in that cutely surprised expression on your face. Something devilish. “Oh~? What’s this? I-if this is what it took to shut that pretty mouth, I’d have done it sooner.”

But what he didn’t account for was the way that you would take the initiative shutting him up. 

The way you would breach that almost-non-existent air between you two and crash your lips onto his. In French kiss so filthy that it makes Gojo moan–

“You’re better like this-” You spit between his strawberry pink lips, the taste of his bubblegum sweet taste now your most favorite. Cherry flavored, almost. “-when you shut up.”

In response, he’s nipping on your lower lip and draaaagging. Smirking at the adorable squeal that lets off from your ajar jaw, “Can’t even keep yer h-hands off of me, always knew you found me irresistible.” And Gojo doesn’t even need his other hand to entrap you now, pinning you with his muscled front. A sultry glissade of mere inches up n’ down up n’ down up n’- 

You could tell that he was big. 

So could that soft palm of yours, sneaking down to cop an agonizing feel of his rotund bulge. Fingers rovering generously along the damp crevice of his slit, “What was that?”

“Found me ir-re-sis-”

Harder. 

“Shiiiit.” He hiccups, head swimming. “Suck- suck on my tongue.”

You do. Making Gojo’s eyes glaze over at the twist of your pillowy lips, making him rut-

“Fuckin’ dirty little thing.” The rough texture of his tastebuds swirl across your own, and even through his mask you swear he looked fucked-out already. Taking off his suave gloves, he leaves one spank on your thigh. Two. “Mmm- spread them f’me now.”

You’re snarling, despite the furious throb you feel from your leaking cunt. “Who’d ya think you are to ngh- boss me around?”

“Have it your way then, girl.”

And when he says that shit, he means it.

Before you know it, he’s sitting on the capped curves of his knees with a loud bam! You’re grimacing for but a mere split-second at just how much it must have hurt, before realizing that Gojo doesn’t care.

It’s the last fucking thing on his mind once he’s gliding an open, calloused palm underneath one of your unsteady legs and wrangling it on top of his sculpted shoulders. 

You’re latching a hand through his soft, fawny strands with a yelp. “Asshole.”

“Witch.”

“Pussy.”

“Pussy, alriiight—” The borders of his short, manicured nails draw an invisible line down, down, down to coast the puffy fissure of your pussylips. Before pinching and tearing cleanly between the legs of your latex suit. Breathing deeply in- “There she is. Pretty girl…hey there, the name’s Satoru. I’m the stuff of your wettest dreams.”

You can’t even bite out a retort - a plea - before Gojo’s diving nose-deep allll the way into your drooling cunt. Nudging apart your gluey folds with his perky buttoned nose, lengthy tongue slathering your hole with a fat drag-

He’s basically glued. Addicted with only a single taste, and swerving his tongue to scratch up in solid, dizzying circles around and around your soppy entrance. 

“Sh-shit-” Your thighs break out in jitters, and he only responds with a firm tug to interlock your craned limb ‘round his neck. Making your spine bend the perfect curvature off of the cool wall, “-more. More.”

SPANK!

The rims of Gojo’s fingers burn into the globes of your ass, and he’s so unrepentant about it. So smug. Making such a spectacular show of letting your globs of slick pour down his tongue. 

Kiss-bitten maw hanging wiiidely agape to make you watch the thick rivulets of sap that hit the back of his awaiting throat. He’s dripping wet all the way down to his bobbing Adam’s apple, treacly splotches of juice hitting the floor in puddles. 

Gojo gurgles out something feral, still mushing his pert maw to your wet mound so you’re feeling each n’ every vibration. 

“Dooooown, kitty.” Another spank, and another steamy snog of his mouth. Though, this time he’s letting his pearly whites catch on your plumpened clit. Dangerously so. “Watch ngh- watch it, I bite.”

With a frustrated tut, you’re pushing his pretty features even deeper into your pussy. Making him pinch your sensitive nub between his teeth even harder. Slobbering a long drag from every inch of his pointed chin, to the very apples of his high cheekbones. 

“Maybe m’into that…Satoru.”

“Oh- Oh.” Through the bleary gaps in your eyes, you’re noticing that Gojo was blushing. Bright. Red up to the tips of his ears. Burning skin chafing up into your own, and you’re practically melting at his heat.

That sound was like heaven to him. You were like heaven to him. And Gojo’s dilated irises hold direct eye contact with you once he’s digging his round fingertips roughly onto your asscheeks. Resonating out such saturated squelches after squelches as his tongue laps every nook and cranny. “You’re gonna get it- fuck, you’re gonna get it, sweetheart.”

So many delirious moans rip out of you with every slash of his tongue, perking it in every right sensitive spot of yours - without even trying.

Mewling, “Toru- ngh- Toru.”

“Easy there, easy there.” He giggles out in a wet sputter right into your inner thighs, ragged voice all waterlogged with so many ounces of you and your sweet pussy. In the blink of an eye, you feel like you’re floating - only mere moments later do you realize that it’s because Gojo’s holding you up. 

With only one hand.

Relieving you of any thought other than jerking your cunt repeatedly on top of his open mouth in a sultry tempo. Back and forth. 

“Have no idea h-how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He spits into your weeping pussy - both literally and figuratively. Free hand darting upwards to push aside the glutinous barrier of your folds and spray it with a thick wad of spittle. Licking over the shiny sheen, “No idea. Always actin’ so ngh- high and mighty. Had to fuck my fist every time I fought ya, had to run off and- shiiiit cum to the thought of you all over my tongue.”

Gojo was babbling, and right now it was as if he started and couldn’t stop.

“Annoying fuckin’ girl.” He’s snarling, every syllable falling out before he can even think. The swollen point his thumb treks past your walls and catches on the fluttering orifice of your hole. “Ya just need to be eaten out reeeeal proper. Lemme show you how it’s done.”

Then you feel like you’re being split-apart, and you knew you were fucked. 

Because Gojo’s fingers were both long and girthy. 

Such a lethal combination that had you mussing up his silky bangs while you held on for dear life. 

His barreling inches crawl right past that first cozy outer ring, showering it with such lustrous layers of pure, slippery need. Pushing and pushing until they’re skirting to thrash right into the bulging area of your g-spot. 

And just when he’s pummelling your molten wall with a harsh strike, just when Gojo’s mouth parts at the pure ecstasy of finding it. Of how pretty you looked. 

You’re letting your own, too, in a frail whimper. “Th-that all you got, Nightwing?”

“Ohhh, I love a woman that bullies me.” 

All that Gojo whispers into your cunt - low, almost reverent - before his touch turns deadly. Cock aching painfully, thighs squeezing together until his pulsing, hot shaft gets squeezed. 

You’re faced with the full force of his slick-covered fingers pumping direct hit after hit. Sending white-hot flashes of pressure straight from the stout ends of his fingerpads and right to your brain.

“That all I got? H-heh, that all I got-” He’s echoing your previous words like a mantra. Breaking. Octaves higher as if he was on the verge of laughing. “How fucking cute.”

“C-cute?”

“So fucking cute.”

“I-I’m not- fuck!”

Pinpointing his long index purposefully in a massage right up against your g-spot, like it was a button for him to toy and push. 

Gojo’s smile leers ever-wider as he holds it there, listening to the way your moans pitch creakily. “What’s that?” And you’re barely spilling off a few more syllables in response before he angles his wrist deeper to push down even harder. Making your entire body shudder, “What’s that? Yeahh, s’what I thought.”

You were so tight around him that Gojo’s forcing himself to bite his driveling bottom lip to hold back countless embarrassing whimpers. Because you were clinging onto him like gum, tugging his fingers back into your boiling hot depths every time he’s reeling back.

And the problem with Gojo Satoru was that he couldn’t decide. 

He wanted you. And he wanted it all. 

Couldn’t stop from alternating between scissoring his dexterous fingers into every ridge and crevice of your goopy cunt, and making out with you like he was parched. Lolling his tongue like he was drunk- all over your swooping slit and rubbing in tiny hearts on top of your hooded clit. 

“Need you. Need you s-shoooo fuuuckin’ badly.” He couldn’t even speak properly at this point. You’re flinching as a third finger slimily squirms inside your pussy. “Want it all.”

So fucking sloppy in ways you’ve never seem him.

Your dewdrops of slick coat the outside of his mouth and stick in delicate strings, growing thicker and thicker by the minute as he once more strikes your magical spot and makes your toes curl. Gasping, “Yeah- yeah, fuck. Take it, take it ngh- all, Satoru—”

You think you’re gonna snap.

“Upsie daisy.”

Basically being manhandled to lean your entire weight on his shoulders. You don’t think you’re even holding yourself up at all this point. Feeling every flex and ripple of the hero’s deltoids underneath your fleshy mounds.

You’re so loud - and not just from your mouth.

“Hell yeah. Talk t’me.” Juicy sloshes spring onto the edges of Gojo’s mouth after every gyration, practically devouring you. He narrows his lust-murked stare to your glistening hole, giggling - fucking giggling - at how your hips just can’t stay still. “She’s saying…ohhh she’s saying- saying she’s gonna be good f’me.”

You’re blinking down with dazed intrigue, watching with an empty head at the way that his motions only get faster. And faster. 

Pupils sprinting allll the way to the back of your heavy lids, “Close. Think- think m’so close, Toru.”

“Ya think?” He muses, drawing a bold stripe up your bruised and battered g-spot. One so hard that it has the corners of your lips flooding with a bubbling torrent of saliva, it has your eyes shuttering- “Oh, girl– I know. You’re cummin’ already, sweetheart.”

Shit- you were? You were. 

Head spinning, throat raw. 

And you didn’t even realize it with just how fucked-out you were on his long, lecherous tongue. Rendering your head permanently dizzy with those vulgar patterns he was drawing with it, both inside and out.

Your goopy walls tingle with the force of your high, ears popping with the pressure of those startling peaks after peaks. Ones that Gojo drags out gladly. 

“Cumming from the hah- the great Gojo Satoru, huh?” He’s groaning, tonality husked with a shiver of something predatory. Unstable. Needy. Smashing away over and over and over on your most tender spots, buzzing. “Cumming all over my mouth. Always was meant for this- meant for me.”

If you thought that the squelches from before were blasphemous, then you surely weren’t ready for the slurps that follow now. 

So loud. 

Slithering the curling tip of his tongue to slap down on your quivering entrance, he’s pounding your hole dually with a mean mouth and even meaner fingers. Merciless. 

You’re cumming and cumming and he’s stringing you along with every explosive ram and suck. Tired fingers pulling out of your hole with a wet plop! and lurching down to squeeze his achingly hard cock. Grinding the fat of his palm over n’ over across his length-

“S-soooo sensitive—” You’re sobbing out, eyes leaking hot tears once the crescendo of your orgasm pulls taut, powerful tingles rushing from where Gojo was latching his neat teeth onto your clit and biting. 

And not even wringing your fingers to scratch his scalp, not even draaaagging Gojo by his sweat-matted hair could get him to part. 

He wasn’t done yet. No. 

His chin hits the very back of your cunt as he targets your pussy with yet another viscous few wads of spittle. Scattering it all over your sloppy hole when he’d drunk up all your sweet sap and there wasn’t enough. “Wanna taste more o-of you. S’fuckin’ sweet, wanna taste more.”

Because to him it would never be enough.

Not even when you’d finally let your toes uncurl, not even when your cracked whimpers were turning hushed. Bated. 

Not even when he finally breaks his kiss between your legs with one last looooong slurp. Well, multiple. Gojo simply kept parting and coming back every few seconds with the most vulgar kisses because it hurt him to leave the very same pussy he’s been dreaming of since the day he first met you. 

“Fuck. Fuck.” Gojo seethes out through rough pants. The soppy thwack! of wiry ribbons of drool from both sets of lips smacking him in the face. It lacquers all over his prettily flushed face and makes a mess.

Yet, you think he’s never looked prettier. 

And the only thing messier was that smile he was giving you - dopey, and crazed. With beads of syrupy slick hanging off of his cerise lips, “You…you got my mask all dirty, sweetheart.”

“Dirty” was an understatement. 

Gojo’s black mask was drenched, soaked through until every bit of his milky skin touching it smeared with a shimmery lamination of sap. You’d done such a number on him that when he hooks a thumb underneath, it lets out the most sinful squelch!

“Hear that?” You’re watching, speechless, once he tugs it off haphazardly. Impatiently. Ethereal white locks splaying out and over like a halo, “That’s the sound of ya being eaten out reeeal good n’ proper.”

And when Nightwing takes his mask off, you have to blink. 

Because you’d fully and completely thought that Gojo Satoru could never be prettier - but when he was like this? When you could finally see his face fully?

Shit, you’re feeling your heart hammer against your ribs with a painful ba-dump–! just by looking into his summer blue eyes. The cute blush painting his features even more evident, and you’re catching his nose crinkle. 

You’re pushing back the stray twines of his bangs sticking onto his prespired forehead. A touch that makes him shiver, a touch that makes his hardened cock twitch in his supersuit. “Never put that on a-again, I swear.”

“Ate that pretty cunt out and you’ve hah- fallen f’me already, hm~?” He’s wriggling his pale brows, and the look in his eyes is so enchanted that it leaves you momentarily speechless.

If you’d fallen for Gojo now, then he had already fallen for you a long, long time ago.

You hand on his hair tightens, searing. Angling his handsomely pussydrunken face until he’s looking up at you, “And who was saying they’ve been hngh- dreaming of eating my ‘pretty cunt’ for ages now?”

“I…”

“Shut up.”

And when you tell him to shut up, he shuts up. For perhaps the first time in the twenty-something years he’s been terrorizing this Earth.

Oh, for just how famed Nightwing was for his reflexes, Gojo barely sees it coming when you’re pushing him onto the muggy floor and collapsing right on down with him. Feverish. Needy. 

He was so fucking hard that you swear you could see the zig-zag of his inflated veins through that massive bulge. Through his clothes-

Seriously, you’re ripping through the tough latex-y fabric wrapping around his inner thighs with a smirk. If he got to rip your supersuit then you should only return the favor. 

You can’t help yourself, the very tip of your mushy tongue drips with a few pearls of saliva with just how badly you wanted him in your mouth. You’d seen the way that Gojo was huffing and grinding his cock as much as he could when he was filthily making out with your cunt.

Judging by the way he was jolting and moaning at your every touch, you were surprised he didn’t cum just from-

Oh.

He did. 

And from the startled look of awe on Gojo’s face, he didn’t realize he had, either. 

“Oh?” You’re skimming the fat plane of your thumb over his leaky orifice right in the middle, bawling out thick ropes of creamy white which slipped n’ slid allll down your wrist in generous heaps. “A-and you called me ‘cute’.”

Shit, but you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know where to look.

True to his word, Gojo was big - more than big, actually. 

His cock was oh-so-pretty, standing red and proud at something near nine or ten inches. Oodles of buttery seed dripping down the side and ready for you to lick up. 

Nestled above breeder balls, he’s lightning bolted with fat, rosé veins you couldn’t wait to feel scratch up your insides. A girthy circumference that made your poor knuckles ache to wrap around, so needy that every throb made your wrist jolt. 

So…sexy.

“Satoru…”

And something in your tone of voice seems to jolt Gojo into overdrive. 

He’s letting his meaty thighs crack open, displaying you with the attractive ripples of muscle. “C’mon, sweetheart-” A large hand softly cups the back of your unsteady head, “-clean up this- this mess you made.”

If this was any other time, you might’ve snapped back something about it being the mess he made himself. If this was any other time, you might’ve teased him for the teary cracks shattering his words.

But right now, you were striking the bullseye of Gojo’s round, coral pink divot with a hefty dump of saliva. Thumbing it right over his weeping middle and lazing your tongue tenderly all down the grooves of his veins.

You could feel him throb and buck underneath you, so turned on that you could practically taste it. 

“Gods. Fuck. Fuck, girl-” He’s spitting out through lowered lashes, watching your tongue flop out to lap ‘round and ‘round his mushroomy tip like your favorite lolly. “-like that. Just like that.”

Gojo tucks a thumb underneath the curve of your chin, prying your maw to fall open just enough so that he can tap-tap-tap his blushing, thick head on your tongue. So that he can spurt out a few more gumdrops of seed and watch them glisten all the way to your throat. 

He’s watching you with an open mouth,  “Oh yeah. Oh yeah, my girl. Now you’re gonna hah- take all of me, right?”

Your pussy twitches with interest at his words — “my girl.” And the only thing you can think to do is let your digits sift underneath his tender slit, grinning. “Make me.”

It’s all the confirmation that Gojo needs to lurch open your slobbering mouth even further and plunge his veiny cock into you. Hissing at the way your tongue drags underneath his sinking shaft, he burns red to the tips of his ears. 

“N-now now, play nice and say ‘ahhh’—” Your mouth was so hot. And it was working so many wonders on his fat cock that it was forcing him to gasp out tiny sobs. “Take me- fucking- fucking take me or god help me-”

He didn’t even know what he was saying.

Never breaking sultry eye contact, Gojo’s swabbing his cum around your plumped lips like a whitish lipstain. Fucking up feverishly, his trickling tip hits the very bottom of your throat and stays there-

“Ya like that?” He’s snarling out, perfect teeth pulled back on full display. You’re moaning into his tufted, snowy-white pubes at the sight of his glinting canines. “‘Course you do, course you do. F-fuck don’t know how many ngh- time I-I’ve imagined this. All because of you, nasty girl-”

Without warning, he’s pinching your nose together and you whine in answer. Crescents of your nails clawing down red, red lines all over his toned abs, “Alright alright- ngh- mostly because of you.”

He lets go, finally. Snickering at the steady tears that fall down your cute face. 

Fighting against his flapping lids to watch the way you’re bobbing your head in a primal cadence now. Your nose brushing up against his heated skin every time. A fat few rivers of drool find themselves glazing your lips, your chin, Gojo’s shifting pelvis in a puddle. 

He was so hot and weighty inside, and your jaw was starting to ache just from the sheer bulky fatness. Your cunt leaking - bawling - at the way his ballooned-up veins rub against the roof of your mouth up n’ down.

“You and that damn suit n’ those damn eyes a-and that-” He bucks up, up, up, core tensing sexily each time. Smashing the rounded curve of his tight balls against your chin. “-damn mouth. Now mine, all mine oh—”

Your fingers just barely graze over Gojo’s plump sack, making his precious, pinkish skin wrinkle. Making him gasp- “O-oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck-” His head snaps upwards, eyes rolling to the very backs of his head. “-c’mere. C’mere.”

Maybe it’s because of the remaining aftereffects of your mind-shattering orgasm, maybe it’s because you wanted him so bad you couldn’t think; but you’re so pliable in Gojo’s big, strong arms.

He’s bending a few degrees to scoop you up in a mess of boneless limbs, all in one go. Sitting you all pretty and struggling to balance on his slender hips– his v-shape was mouth-watering. 

And your thighs fit so perfectly snugly on either side, glissading your pussylips up and down on his cylindrical shaft. You’re riding all along his bumpy veins, head bobbing at every probing spiral that pokes past your folds. 

“Fuck me.” Gojo whispers against your throat. Reaching over languidly to rip even more of his supersuit for you, all the way down his inner thighs, his chest, everywhere. For you to ruin. “Fuh-fuck me.”

Whining, “Give it- give it t’me, Toru–”

He blushes. 

You didn’t know who was yearning for it more. 

Gojo repeatedly spanks your slippery hole with the very rounded crown of his cockhead, sandwiching himself between your bloated lips. And the sight makes him grin, the sight makes him twitch- “Open. Open wiiiide, sweetheart. Tight fuckin’ thing.”

Your knobbly knees ricket as you splay them out shamelessly, “‘Nough teasing. Want it- a-and I want it now.”

Bratty girl.

Though, he always has loved that side of you. 

And it’s exactly what makes Gojo depart his hips off of the ground in a sudden rut and fill you up to your brim. Just the plump circle of his tip mazing past your entrance enough to render you stupidly speechless. 

You swear you hear him bludgeon just the few inches of his head into your channel with a wet plop! Before your ears ring with something even louder…even wetter. 

“Fucking- shit shit shit-” You’re almost letting your mouth sing with a whimper once his gorgeous eyes shutter closed, a cute pout smearing over your face. Gojo’s shifting, he’s restless, he’s planting his feet firmly flat on the floor and bucking wildly. Through clenched teeth, “This is- all- your- fault.”

Suddenly, you’re feeling something warm and thick soaking through your walls. Slathering ribbons of liquid sloshing around your wet inners and mixing with the waves of your aroused slick. 

Did he just…? Just from putting it inside? 

And, really, you felt so heavenly inside - what was a man to do?

Your gooey walls molding around his length like molten gold, it was driving Gojo crazy until all he could do was wrap his arms around the small of your back as if you were his lifeline. Panting out cloudy breaths against your face, he stares deeply into your eyes and cums-

Your eyes flap open alertly, “T-Toru– did you just-”

“Shut up.” He’s huffing, gnawing on his wobbly lower lip like chewing gum. To shut you up, he’s shoving your face between the plummy cushions of his pecs. Grunting when your tongue comes out to suck his rose pink nipples. “I’m just- I’m- ngh–”

Just fucking his globular wads of seed until you were overspilling, is what. Pumping the bottom of your pussy so full that you’re feeling him smear sticky streaks down your cervix, the gluey-texture making your back arch for more more more-

“Can’t help that this p-pussy is so fuck- filthy.” He’s trawling out syllables from the back of his hoarse throat, a thin line of saliva leaking from one end of that fucked-out grin. Eyeing the plapping of his cum pouring in bucketloads out of you and onto his skin, “That you’re so…”

Can’t help that he’s been dreaming of this since forever. 

Gojo didn’t have to say a word, because the massive puddle formulating from between your icing-topped folds was chatty enough. Really chatty, in fact, that the man finds himself nodding away blearily with every shrill squelch! from down below. 

Humming, “Mhm— real t-talkative, aren’t you, pretty girl?” His pants puncture with a few breathless titters, watery gaze flickering between your sweaty face and where he was disappearing. Depraved. “Nicer than her, too.”

Lips falling into a partially-offended, partially-delirious oh! your brows furrow, “S-so mean. Don’t make me- ngh- don’t make me g-get off, Satoru.”

“Get off, huuuuh?” He’s drawling, hands pushing you down even further along his blushing red cock. You were so insistent and fiery, it made him so much fucking harder. And it was cute, the way you’re flinching when his tip throbs even fatter. “If you wanna ngh- tap- tap out, jus’ say so, my girl.”

“Never.” 

“Never?”

Rolling those beautiful eyes of yours, “You’d tap out first.”

Fuck yeahhhhh, he was shifting his hips just a little to make you feel how much girthier you were making him. The clingy sides of your walls snatching on the way his crownhead pulls taut, stretching your innards to the very max. “No. You.”

He doesn’t know if you even realize just how much more damp you’re getting. A syrupy wet patch already formed and growing on his v-line, dribbling down to his twitchy balls. “Scared, Nightwing?”

“I’m not even trying, sweetheart.”

And with that said, only now do you realize just how true his words are. 

Two impressive hands interlace on the crown of your sticky scalp, pushing you- bullying you down like some glorified ragdoll. 

Your thighs twitch as if you were unsure whether to clench or spread. You can feel Gojo’s sweltering hot cock squeezing and squeezing his fully proud length inside of you - you didn’t even realize that he hadn’t bottomed out yet because he was simply so big.

But when he did finally fit all the way?

God, it felt like he was drilling his split-ended tip right into your lungs. 

“There we go- thereeee we go.” Gojo breathes out thickly, and it felt like something leaden in his tummy was finally unraveling after all this time. Finally stuffed inside your pussy. “Knew you could t-take me- heh. S’biiig, isn’t it?”

Really big. 

And every shallow bounce of yours made your pulse burst near your throat, stars sparking behind your burdensome eyelids when he pinpricks tiny speckles of pre on your most favorite spots. 

“Yeah yeah- ride me.” He grapples at your scalp and pulls. “Fuckin’ ride me. S’all yours n’ I wanna see you ngh- milk it.”

“Gods- ohhhh gods.” You’re shrilling out in a strained pitch when he jerks upwards and clashes into your g-spot, your nails claw ragged lines on the carpet as if you’d just been thrown to the wolves. Stupid now. Hips jerking away from his tantalizing pace-

“No running.” Gojo spits, pained. One hand curling around your throat and dragging you down to smack the backs of your thighs against his weighty balls, the other cupping your face delicately. His long, textured tongue laps up the salty pearls of your tears with looooud slurps. “Wh-where the ngh- fuck do you think you’re going?”

You didn’t even have an answer because every possible one was being fucked out of you. Brutally. 

One sharp jab. Two. Three into your tender alcoves and you feel like collapsing, your front melting into his toned one, drool spilling out in spit-loads. 

It’s all you can do to gyrate your waist back and forth in sloppy circles to meet his pace. Looong figure eights that made Gojo’s thighs shudder, and your clit scratch his creamy happy trail. There were so many thorough inches being fed into your cunt, probing deeply. Over and over and over- 

And no matter how full you were he’d keep rutting and rutting. Like he couldn’t stop. Rotund head sagging down your cervix to leave streaks of pre and he was still pushing.

Gojo bores up at you with glazed eyes, saliva-glistening lips parted ever-so-slightly while he pounded up into you as if in a daze.

You’re swearing his dilated pupils have formed into hearts- “Mmmm– love you, my girl.” He carries out a tender kiss on your forehead, and a rough squeeze on your throat. Jostling your lolling head back and forth ever-so-slightly, to dab his digits in a seeping puddle of slick and push past your lips. “Love fucking you. Being haaaaa– fucked by you…”

It’s not often that anyone can catch Gojo Satoru off guard.

But you’re not just “anyone.”

With your honed expertise, all it takes is one jackhammered thud! into the back of your pussy - two - before you’re flipping your ravenously glissading bodies over. 

“Then f-fuck me properly, Toru.”

Maybe he heard your words through the static-y buzzing in his head, maybe he didn’t. Either way your tone makes something inside him twitch, full-bodied. 

And you don’t think Gojo even registers it beyond a stuttered ohhh–! at first, you don’t think he even realizes the way he’s immediately sprawling you out flat on your back and bending you into a rude mating press. 

Still not slowing down. Still not faltering. 

Ah, you don’t know if you’re a genius or just plain stupid. Because you still manage to yelp, “S’that- s’that it?”

As if on primal instinct, he’s letting out a growl near your mouth. “Hah- haaah– Y’know…I-I’m reeeeal flexible, my girl.” Your calves burn with exertion once he throws them unceremoniously over his shoulders, core tensing in a way you can’t help but ogle. “Real flexible.”

At first you didn’t understand why he was telling you this. At first.

Before Gojo drags his large feet up, up, up until he’s planting them where you can see - sweaty thighs lugging forwards where he’s bending you in half and then some. 

It was so cute how pliable you were underneath him, manhandled to every whim and want and need-

This brand-spanking new angle was everything. 

Thrashing into your springy cervix - hard. Stretching out deeply-seated sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. It makes you feel so fucking filthy at the sting of his papping balls bruising your ass like never before. 

And his tip is so greedy, feeling the swashing splash of his own seed dripping all over your walls and still bursting to erupt with more. He could tell he was close, aligning himself to crash into his favorite target of your g-spot. 

“Fuck–” Your mindless legs threaten to close - not that he would ever let them. “So much. Fuck me, p-please.”

“What was that?”

“Please…”

“What was that?”

“Please!”

Gojo’s hunched over, seethingly red in the face. Ivory bangs half-way covering his intensely half-lidded stare, stray spatters of perspiration hit your chest like bullets. 

“Gonna ngh- fuck you properly.” He spits, hands ghosting over your tummy - namely that globed bulge he was fucking into you. A mere nudge of it with his thumb leaves Gojo’s breath leaving his lungs in a sizzling woosh! Sculptured chest vibrating, “Gonna breed you properly. Gonna…” 

You’re flinching when fingers waft over your nubbed clit, the stark volts of electricity prompting your ass to hit back even rougher against his sharp pelvis. 

“Want it, Toru.” Wobbly arms wrapping around his flushed neck to pull him in close. He looks at you lovingly, while he fucks you like he hates you. “W-want you to ngh- breed me.”

And that does it - for the both of you.

Gojo Satoru’s breath hitches with a cry, balls achingly tight. Needy. “Gonna make you m-mine.”

Running headfirst into your highs, it hits you like a tidal wave. You don’t know where you’re seeing white from; the flurries of stars speckling your vision, or from the torrents of cum Gojo pours out past your sloppy entrance. 

“Your p-pussy–!” Gojo bursts, drilling into you as if he was crazed. Fat tip swirling around your pretty insides with decorative ribbons of pure white, his cum seeps into you thickly and you swear you can feel him well up the door to your womb. “O-ohhhh your pussy your pussy your- p-pussy, takin’ me so well.”

“Fuck me-” You tug on his pink lips with your teeth and it makes Gojo empty out another few webbed streaks of sap into the bottom of your pussy with a thud! Brows furrowing, “Deeper.” Even though he was so deep you think you might burst. “Harder.” So hard you felt raw. “More.”

You were already overspilling, the throes of your burning hot orgasm just barely letting you register the splat-splat-splat of his cum pumping in n’ out of you. 

Two of his slender fingers urgently scoop those few escaping globs back through your pussylips, Gojo’s girth so wide that he doesn’t even have to try to plug you full and tight. 

“A-all safe and sound.” He’s patting at the cumflated outline on your tummy, cylindrical and round. Your walls were so plump and tight with him that just the simplest dig had you squealing. “A-all…”

And Gojo looked like he could purr if he could. 

All fucked out and satisfied, the pussydrunken grin on his face seemed permanent - and so was that tender glint in his eye. Peeking up at you through long lashes, he leans his head over to listen to your juddering heartbeat, “All mine.”

Your tummy lurches, and you find yourself smiling before you can stop. But it’s not like you wanted to stop.

In fact, you didn’t want to stop at all. 

“That last one’s a tie.” Your voice scratches the favorite crevices of Gojo’s brain; so mushy and melted that it takes a long while before his lips drop into an understanding oh! You sweetly peck his lips, “Rematch, Nightwing?”

Fuck. 

His poor, overworked cock twitches.

Fuck. 

And of course, it was a rematch with the two of you.

Of course, the one rematch turned into two. Into three. Into four. Into- you’d lost count after five, and you were sure right now that you couldn’t even do any maths past that.

After breaking Naoya Zenin’s loveseats, after splitting his desk literally in half. Eventually, you’d either forgotten about the man himself and your fate, or you just didn’t care. You were so fucked dumb that all you can cry is a broken, “Sa-to–ru!”

Because if there was one thing that Batman taught in his rigorous training scheme, it was stamina. 

Gojo was taking you from behind right now- well, that was being generous. 

He was slumped down over you until his abs were liquefying down your arched spine, head buried deep into the clammy crook of your neck. Swirling his sensitive cock all around your tenderized insides, thighs trembling where he was pinning the both of you down onto the floor. Too sloppy and fucked to even try anywhere else.

“M’here—” Gojo drawls out, heavy tongue stumbling over the sounds. He pats the cute tummy bulge that he’s responsible for first, and then your gushing pussy. Pulling you to him, he really was acrobatic, “M’here. Toru’s h-here, my sweetheart.”

Fuck- those last two words make him jetstream out a sweltering few beads of seed. He couldn’t even cum properly anymore. 

Driving into you until every voluminous mass in his body was now packed intensely between your snug walls, he shifts inside of you with a sloooow gyration and feels the knotted mess he’s made. 

“My sweetheart–” Gojo’s biceps bulge where he’s shoving your head into the soft carpet, into the pond of saliva that just won’t stop leaking from your parted mouth. His words depart in a cracked plea, “My girl.”

“Y-yours.”

Maybe you’re cumming, maybe you’re not - you don’t even know, at this point. 

Half-lucidly aware of the faint tingles shooting up your spine, and making your temples throb. Gojo himself feels out of control, hips reeling back, back, back to slam into your jiggling ass. 

He’s pawing himself a rough handful of your fleshy mounds once he throws his head back and lets his aching shaft jolt. Straight from his drenched base, all the way to his overstimulated tip- exhausting out one bead of pre. Two. 

Before Gojo cums dry.

“O-oh.” His teeth snag near your pulse, wet splatters of tears soaking your skin. Something animalistic twinging at the back of his cottony mind at the way you literally milked him until he was dry. Despite himself, he laughs. High-pitched. Crazed. “S’a- tie- s’a tie, I went e-easy on you…”

Somehow, you’re managing a grin. “My hero~”

And Gojo was just about to open his mouth - maybe to counter back something nonsensical, maybe to ask for a rematch over n’ over until he passes out.

But what happens instead is that overly familiar metallic gate explodes open.

You have to blink away the clingy fog in your eyes in alarm, and you’re embarrassed to admit that it took longer than you thought. Dammit, he really did win that last round- ah, rematch.

Still stunned, you can barely even dredge up some semblance of dignity as a towering man in a red helmet and skin-tight black suit walks in. Past his sexy biker vest, and those muscles upon chiseled muscles, you think you see- yeah, it really is. A red Batman logo. 

Red Hood. 

A low snicker sounds from underneath his mask, swiftly being taken off to reveal a man so pretty that you feel your jaw slacken. 

He runs a hand through silky, waist-length black hair, amethyst eyes glinting with amusement and something…more as he takes in the sight. Long lashes fluttering, he lets go of a specialized machine gun you assume was used to break down your cage. “Yo, Satoru.”

“Suguru.” Gojo gruffs out in a condensed gasp, though he makes no move to stop. None at all. Still balls-deep, and rubbing his tip down your spongy cervix. “Wh-what- fuuuck, don’t squeeze like that, my girl- took ya so ngh- long?”

Red Hood- Suguru, waves his other hand airily, only then do you see the knife clutched in it. The extremely…bloodied knife. “Ah, y’know~ Had to clean up some messes. Toji wanted revenge on the Zenins, the usual family drama.” Eyes flashing, “He’ll be up once he’s done to ah…join us here.”

Oh god, was the entire Bat Family here? You get the distinct feeling that this was not just “usual family drama.”

But you can’t say a word when the other man bores his piercing gaze onto you next. Tone smooth and syrupy, “So…Prowler, I’m assuming, by the ripped up costume?”

You feel your skin heat. “The one and only.”

“Geto Suguru, gorgeous.” He pulls out a tiny spherical gadget that looked exactly like the one Gojo had been toying with hours- days? ago. “I already know your name, Toji and I heard it over and over. Which, by the way, you should remind that idiot Satoru to turn his microphone off.”

Ah, that explains a lot. And wait- it was on this whole time? 

Shit. 

While Gojo only huffs out a pant of laughter, planting yet another deep jackhammer into you, you feel the apologies bubble to your lips. That is, until- 

“Unless you want someone to feel…” Geto licks his lips slooowly, bangs swooning over his sleazy gaze. You watch with widened eyes as a hand falls to his bulky belt, carnally. “-left out.”

A/N. Mhm what happens when ya let a girl listen to Nightcrawler.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[victorvmx]

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[rxsafetyglasses]

Introducing the new line of Bomber's Anti-Blue Light Safety Glasses

In the fast-paced digital age we live in, our eyes are constantly bombarded by the harsh glare of screens. Whether it's the computer at work, the TV at home, or our beloved smartphones, prolonged exposure to blue light emitted from these devices can take a toll on our eyes. Recognizing the need for protection, Bomber Eyewear proudly presents its latest innovation – the Blue Light Defense Safety Glasses.

The Impact of Blue Light

Blue light, a high-energy visible (HEV) light emitted by digital screens, has been linked to a range of eye-related issues. From blurry vision and eye strain to headaches, loss of sleep, and even the risk of macular degeneration, the consequences of prolonged exposure are undeniable. Bomber Eyewear has taken this seriously and responded with a solution that not only protects your eyes but also does so with style.

Meet the Bomber's Anti-Blue Light Glasses

The  Bomber’s Anti-Blue Light Safety Glasses are equipped with clear lenses that have been treated with a special blue light blocking polymer. These virtually clear lenses act as a shield against the harmful effects of blue light, ensuring your eyes stay protected without compromising your visual clarity.

Key Features: In addition to filtering out blue light, our safety glasses feature UV-blocking technology, offering comprehensive protection for your eyes.

Versatile Styles: Bomber Eyewear has redesigned some of its best-selling styles to incorporate these protective lenses. Whether you're at work, home, or indulging in late-night gaming sessions, there's a style that suits every occasion.

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When style meets durability, you get the Boogie-Bomb - matte black frame, gray foam lining, and a commitment to eye safety. These hefty safety frames are designed to take a beating without compromising on flair.

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[ducoglasses56]

Understanding Bluelight Glasses: How They Protect Your Eyes in the Digital Age

In today's digital age, we are constantly surrounded by screens. Whether it's working on a computer, scrolling through our smartphones, or binge-watching our favorite shows, our eyes are exposed to a significant amount of artificial blue light. This prolonged exposure can lead to eye strain, fatigue, and even disrupt our sleep patterns. Thankfully, there's a solution: bluelight glasses.

In this blog, we will explore what bluelight glasses are and how they can protect your eyes from the harmful effects of blue light.

What are Bluelight Glasses?

It is also known as computer glasses or gaming glasses, are specially designed eyewear that filters out or blocks a portion of the blue light emitted by digital screens. These glasses feature lenses with a special coating that helps reduce the amount of blue light reaching your eyes. They are available in both prescription and non-prescription options, making them suitable for people with or without existing vision correction needs.

How Do Bluelight Glasses Work?

These glasses work by utilizing advanced lens technology to selectively block or filter blue light. The lenses are usually tinted yellow or amber, as these colors are effective at absorbing blue light wavelengths. When you wear these glasses, the lenses act as a barrier, preventing a significant portion of blue light from entering your eyes. This reduces the strain on your eyes, allowing you to comfortably view screens for extended periods.

Benefits of Bluelight Glasses

1.      Reduced Eye Strain: These glasses can help alleviate symptoms of eye strain, such as dryness, redness, and blurred vision, caused by excessive screen time.

2.      Improved Sleep Quality: Blue light exposure, particularly in the evening, can interfere with our natural sleep-wake cycle. By wearing these glasses, you can reduce the amount of blue light reaching your eyes before bedtime, promoting better sleep.

3.      Alleviation of Digital Eye Fatigue: Prolonged exposure to digital screens can cause digital eye fatigue, leading to tired and achy eyes. These glasses provide relief by reducing the strain on your eyes and improving overall visual comfort.

4.      Protection from Potential Long-Term Effects: While more research is needed, some studies suggest that prolonged exposure to blue light may have long-term effects on eye health. These glasses act as a preventive measure by reducing your eyes' exposure to harmful blue light.

Choosing the Right Bluelight Glasses

When selecting these glasses, consider the following factors:

1.      Quality of the lenses: Look for glasses with high-quality lenses that effectively block or filter blue light. Coatings such as anti-reflective and anti-scratch can also enhance your overall experience.

2.      Fit and comfort: Ensure that the glasses fit your face comfortably and do not cause any discomfort during prolonged wear.

3.      Style: These glasses come in a variety of styles, ranging from traditional frames to more fashionable options. Choose a style that suits your personal preference and lifestyle.

Conclusion

As our reliance on digital devices continues to grow, protecting our eyes from the harmful effects of blue light becomes essential. These glasses offer a practical solution to reduce eye strain, improve sleep quality, and protect our long-term eye health.

Consider investing in a pair of these glasses to ensure your eyes stay healthy and comfortable in the digital age. Prioritize your eye health and embrace the benefits of these glasses today.

[sanswstrk]

TO SANSA/JON FANDOM!

Hey everyone! I’m not sure how many of you remember this user, but lostlittlesatellites or batterydeaddotdot was a well-known Jonsa meta-writer in our fandom. Sadly, they deactivated, and as far as I know, we don’t really know why. A big chunk of their amazing work seems to have been lost, which was so sad for so many of us.

But here’s the good news: I recently discovered that some of their metas were saved on the "Way Back Machine" site! So, I put together a list of some of their pieces to share with all of you. My aim is to help preserve their contributions, spread the love within our fandom, and celebrate the incredible mind that has helped to shaped our fandom.

Quick disclaimer: I haven’t read every single meta, so I don’t necessarily agree with everything that’s written. My main goal is just to share this with you all. And I skiped GOT-related metas for this list. Enjoy diving into lostlittlesatellites/batterydeaddotdot’s work!

Some of their writings is already saved through some of those accounts: @/jonsameta & @/bookjonsa & @/esther-dot. Y’all can check! Here are the others:

BOOKS:

Sansa Stark: The Princess in the Tower

RLJ & Jonsa Payoff

Dragons, Snow and Armchairs

Can there be ONE ideal ruler?

Trojan War Literature influence on GRRM

The Red Comet: A Closer Look

Grey Dawn: Hour of the Wolf + Nightingale

To go forward you must look back: Dany’s tragic fall

Jon Snow as an Anti Hero

Val: A Subversion of BATB in Jon’s arc? + “something off about Val”

The Resurrection Problem

The Cost of Weaponizing Dragons For a Cause: Doran + Jon

There is Power in Living Wood: Bran’s role in the War

Valar Morghulis: Could Arya kill Dany?: Part 1 & Part 2

Stark Girls’ connections: To go forward you must go back

Fathers and Daughters

Sansa Stark: A Winter Rose?

Sansa Stark: A Girl in Glass

Sansa’s Fairytale and Myth allusions

The Blindspot of FPTP thread: Oversexualisation and overlooking age

Ask: Does “begging for a stranger’s kiss” foreshadow Sansa/Hound?

Deconstruction of BATB figures: He’s even uglier than the Hound

The Unkiss: The War Spilling Inside

Sansa’s repression of Jeyne

Alysanne: Paralleling Sansa + Contrasting Dany foreshadowing

A Song to Dodge A Kiss With a Blade (Part 1): Sansa/Hound and Jon/Ygritte ACOK comparisons

The Innocuous Nature of Jon/Sansa Foreshadowing

Snow: Lover’s Kisses

A Son by Marriage

1. Like a Lover; 2. Like a Kiss; 3. Kissed by Fire; 4. Burning Light and Dark Woods; 5. Intruders in Winterfell; 6. The Heart of Winterfell; 7. Fire: Hearth vs. Weapons

Dance of Dragons + Pact of Ice and Fire

Jonquils and Blue Roses

Horses and Flowers

Some Willowy Creature Who Sits Up in a Tower

A Union of the Old Gods and the New: Importance of understanding the Seven

Ask: Thoughts on Bridge4’s Video “There must always be a Stark in Winterfell”

Theories:

Bran as the Valonqar

History is a Wheel: Jon’s Rebellion

Jon’s Resurrection Repercussions

Dead Man with the Head of a Wolf: A Re-look

The Heart Tree of Winterfell: Tolkien influence

Complicating the Fantasy Battle: War Factions in the War for Dawn

Trail of Scrolls

Lady and the Ghost: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3

Shadowbinders, Death and Sacrifice

Sansa, the Vale and Mountain Clans: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4

Seasons of My Love

Jon’s Survival: Beginning of Subverting Westerosi Classism

Child of Flame and Shadow: Not a living child but a shadow child?

Shadowbinders, Death and Sacrifice: Dany with Mirri and Melisandre

A Potential Wildcard Advisor: Bronze Yohn Royce and the Importance of the Vale

Why Ghost is unlikely to like Dany: Melisandre and Val in ADWD

Others:

Jonsa: Tolkien influences

Jonsa: A Good Endgame

Jonsa is happening because it's how GRRM's mind works

Jonsa’s Hints: On how antis ignore Jonsa foreshadowing

POV’S: Heros or not

House of the Undying and Quaithe for Dany & Mythology

Dany criticism 

Other links: about asoiaf; asoiaf metas; asoiaf theories + part 2

Anyone who has some of their writing saved can feel free to share! I would be thankful.

[littlestl4mb]

yea so imma need nerdy anti-phone bf!luigi to come back again

hi anon so glad you said this bc he is all i ever think about :))) i’ll put this under the cut so i don’t clog up anyone’s feed

i think luigi deff would have an iphone but he would have like 5 apps max on it. whatever ones he thought were the most “useful”. …. and contradictory to his own beliefs he would have instagram downloaded too. but he literally only uses it to look at your posts. like how instagram has “favorites” feature?? yeah u are the only one in that. he only likes your posts. he deff comments on them too but it’s always something a little sassy. you post photos you took with some friends and he would comment “My very pretty girlfriend has time to post on her instagram but no time to call me back?” and you would roll your eyes at it because you literally talked to him on the phone that morning but he can’t help it he just misses you when you’re away <3 and all your friends like the comment bc they think it’s sooo funny.

also i think luigi just shows up whenever to ur home. LMAO. not in a creepy way but he just will. and you know he likes to do it anyway so you’re kinda always prepared for it. like you two don’t even need to plan anything, and in fact he likes the spontaneity of it and so do you. like if you’re not working and he knows that, he’ll just show up in the morning. and you have errands to run but he likes to tag along with you. and depending on the mood he’ll either be yapping about a book he read, or it’ll just be a comfortable kind of silence <3 and if anyone asks him about it he’d just say “everyone always has to plan things these days. i don’t think it should always be like that. we should be like kids again when we used to just walk down the block and knock on our friends door and see if they were home or not.” (heheh i did this as a kid bc i was still in the generation where we didn’t have phones so maybe luigi was the same since he’s older than me <3333)

oh and he obviously is a reader so i think you guys have little casual reading dates. where you just go the park and read together in the grass (he makes u leave ur phone at home. but don’t worry he has a little disposable camera that he takes with so you can get photos. the first time he ever pulled it out you giggled and said “oh my god i don’t think i’ve seen one of these since i was 10 and my grandma was taking family photos” 😭). both of you just sprawl out on a blanket together and have your legs tangled up together as you read your own books. but sometimes! he asks you to read out loud to him or vice versa <3

side note: you two definitely will read together before bed. you used to scroll on your phone but then you’d have trouble winding down and he said “well the blue light is really bad for you, baby. it messes with your circadian rhythm. i read a book all about it, we should read that together next.” 😝 so naturally you stopped using your phone at night bc of this little know it all man. both of you would be posted up in bed in pjs, reading glasses ON, your bedside lamps on too. and you laugh about it sometimes because you think you look like an old married couple in some old movie and luigi thinks “no, we’re just us.”

<33333

[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: The Love Pendant

Mabel this time around hadn’t just taken the love potions from the Love God- he saw that although misguided, her love for other people and desire to make sure everyone was loved was genuine, so he gave her a gift in the form of a "Love Pendant".

It did look a little tacky, a clunky heart carved out of what could be crystal or glass, it was hard to tell, and on a thin gold chain long enough that it could be looped over anyone's head and onto the neck, no clasps needed.

If you placed the love pendant on someone, it would glow in a specific colour and intensity based on how the recipient felt about the bestower. As explained below;

Red: Romantic

Blue: Self (if placed on self)

Green: Friendship

Gold: Family

White: Apathy (Anti-Love)

Black: Hatred

The intensity of the glow shows how strong that love is: the light will be dim if there isn’t a lot or if its weak/flimsy, but the light will be brighter and more intense if there is a lot of that love, and/or if its a very strong love that won’t waver. 

Mabel tests it out by first placing it on Soos, who is her cousin and also frequent companion to her and Dipper- the pendant glows a strong green, with intense flickers of gold, reminding her of holiday trees.

She then tries it on Grunkle Stan - the opposite of Soos, it glows gold with flecks of green, reminding her of holiday lights.

And of course, her brother Dipper - she’s not surprised, but absolutely delighted nonetheless, to see that it swirls in equal parts gold and green, glowing so bright it almost hurts her eyes. And when he puts the pendant on her? Exactly the same.

Then "The Author of the Journals" her Grunkles brother, stumbles out of the interdimensional portal they had no idea was in the basement they also didn't know about. And he's an unrepentant jerk.

Grunkle Stan kept trying to tell both of them that he swore up and down that Great Uncle Ford loved them, he really did, but he's always had a hard time showing people love, even saying it was a Herculean task for him.

Dipper vehemently refused to believe it. Of course he did, once he decided how he felt about someone or something it wasn’t easy to make him change his mind. And Great Uncle Ford wrote those Journals that Dipper hated because of how contradictory and unhelpful they were, and he’d spent the majority of the summer trying to correct them with proper observations.

Mabel? She didn’t appreciate Fords abrasiveness any more than anyone else, but… was there really something else there? She knew her Grunkle Stan was a nice and loving guy and all, but would he really dedicate thirty whole years of his life trying to bring back someone who was only a jerk?

He’d decided to take his grudge into his own hands, and has been actively ambushing their Great Uncle Ford with sports equipment, home decor, and even his bare hands, ever since. Not that it seems bother said Great Uncle very much, because he’s made of surprisingly strong stuff, and he’s waved off all of Dippers attempts at violence. 

One afternoon Mabel catches him dead asleep on the couch again.

Grunkle Stan told her and Dipper that his brother didn’t get as much sleep as he should of during the thirty years he was gone- he was in dangerous places a lot and there were things that could hurt you if you weren’t vigilant enough, and that’s why Ford slept so much now that he was back. As long as you didn’t get too close to him, it was almost impossible to wake him up once he was down.

Mabel considers putting the Love Pendant on him - the recipient didn't need to be conscious, because it connected to feelings and not conscious thoughts.

Then she remembers last time he passed out on the couch Dipper tried hitting him with a wiffleball bat. Even unconscious, Ford caught the bat before it could hit him, and tossed it across the living room with enough force to go straight through a window. And it was a plastic bat.

Grunkle Stan's brother maybe should have told his family that he's fallen asleep in active war zones before, and had still managed to defend himself. Now there's a broken window.

Okay... so maybe putting the pendant on him could wait.

[sevenop]

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: I'm your Ilo, will you Milo?

A/n: Preferring the original source in the person of Billie herself, you ask her a question one day about one of her old songs.

"Wait, what did you just say...?"

Eilish's face is a continuous bewilderment, woven from many details. By asking just one question, you were able to hit the best possible jackpot in LA: soft lips parted in surprise (you even manage to catch a silver glint of grillz), eyebrows that shot almost to the ceiling of your parents' house and dumbfounded eyes that resemble white jade in the light of the sun with their translucency. You, on the other hand, are a total embarrassment - a smile that rides on a slope, a nervous chuckle you let out more by reflex than consciously and, the cherry on the cake - a hand rubbing your neck in slight embarrassment.

"Can you explain to me what ilomilo is, please?", - you duplicate again, and Billie almost has an Internet connection loss icon on her forehead from the ridiculousness of the question, so you tactfully clarify, - "I just decided to ask you right away, as the author of your own song, and not to prowl in on the Internet."

A couple of seconds of immutability, and then Eilish bursts into laughter, reminding you of a geyser with its suddenness and loudness. Whether you feel even more interested after this "maneuver" or a little more embarrassed is still unclear. Billie stops talking, returning to her former state of harmony, and gestures for you to sit down next to her. She crosses her legs and rests the elbow of her left arm on the soft back of the sofa, propping her head on the same arm. Being as close to you as possible, Eilish now looks like she wants to tell you her most important secret.

"It's more correct to call them separatly" - Billie chuckles, her right hand stroking your knee lightly, - "The song itself is about a man losing someone he loves and trying to find them again. We wrote it with Finn, based on the game of the same name."

Even though Billie was wiggling her foot unobtrusively and lazily to the beat of the music coming from the kitchen, the dreamy smile on her face suggested that she was slowly drifting into a special nostalgia. Blue eyes looks at you affectionately and trustingly - she certainly likes your interest. You smile, conspiratorially moving even a little closer. Billie's hand on your knee begins to lovingly "draw" spirals. A lover of tactile contact, what can you do.

"I used to play ilomilo a lot. I loved ilomilo, it was my favorite game in the world. It's the kind of game where there are these two little creatures - one called Ilo and the other called Milo. It's kind of an anti-gravity world where there are all these little blocks, and they start off separate from each other. The idea is that you just make your way towards each other, and when they get close to each other, they just hug and there's no prize. The whole idea of the game is to just lose a loved one and then find them again."

Billie stops using your knee as a canvas, a small silver sparkle in her eyes. Gently cupping her palms around your face, she whispers childishly and mysteriously into your ear with a sly grin:

"You didn't play ilomilo, did you?"

Just one negative nod and you're already securely grabbed by the arm for a speedy trip up the stairs to the second floor, straight to her former room.

×××

Thinking in six planes at once is difficult. Two-colored sweet couple sticks to steep surfaces, crawls on the ceiling and walls, and the whole stage at such moments is turned upside down and back. The first few levels are all kind of simple and without nerves, there are almost no problems with finding the right path, but further on the real brainteaser begins.

While your blue Ilo hangs upside down on the plush cube waiting for you, you furtively glance at Eilish: extremely focused face and neat glasses slowly sliding down to the tip of her nose (the effect of a long night sitting in front of the screen). Milo quickly shuffles his short, plush legs, changed planes, and along with him puffs O'Connell herself, but not tiredly, but irritated. At stake for the singer is not the conquest of the world, but something more serious - to show how good she is at the game of her childhood.

"That's fucking impossible!" - The Xbox joystick slumps to the soft carpet, and Billie throws her head up and growls in anger at the "failure" that had befallen her.

"Do you give up, Eilish?" - Not teasing her verbally now equals the truest crime, and you're a law-abiding girl, aren't you?

The two whipping blue lightning bolts that flickered from her eyes toward you and a raised middle finger are more eloquent than any possible words. Trying to hold back, you only chuckle even louder, and Billie gets angrier and angrier.

"Fuck you, bitch!"

She deftly snatches the second joystick out of your hands, shoving you in the side, which is already sore from laughing. A couple of movements of the stick and your little blue Ilo dies, returning to the same checkpoint from tothe finish line, at which you spent a good half an hour. Eilish pouts and retreats to the old bed with a red curtain from Louis Vuitton (of course, she demonstratively loudly drapes it), and you only gasp from a new attack of laughter, your back falling on the carpet from helplessness.

When you can finally take a full and free breath of air, your gaze lazily moves from the white ceiling of the room to the window - the sun is slowly beginning to roll over the horizon, taking its warm and blinding orange rays with it. The dark blue curtain, stretched halfway out, sways in the flow of the wind, as if anticipating its imminent uselessness with the appearance of darkness. Dark blue... A sudden idea shoots into your head.

"Billie?" - you quickly roll over from back to stomach, gazing expectantly into her hiding place. Except to no avail. The queen of the scarlet "fort" maintains her surprisingly deafening silence. Well, it looks like you'll have to go it alone.

The plastic hinges on the curtain rod barely audibly knock against each other while you remove the thick fabric from them, you stubbornly standing on toes. A chair standing in the opposite corner of the room is unnecessary attention and noise, you don't need it now. A minute, and the cherished fabric is already in your hands, a few more seconds and it is already on your shoulders. It seems that now you are ready to try to talk to your Queen again.

"Billie-e-e!" - You stretch your vowels deliberately, a playful smile on your lips. Getting into the 'fort' doesn't quite work yet - Eilish is on the other side with her hands holding onto the edges of the red canopy, blocking the passage you're creating. - "Please, my love."

The last word seemed to be some sort of magic spell that made the canopy immediately freeze, losing all tension. You easily scramble onto the bed, dragging the blue curtain dragging across the floor with you. Success! Her lips immediately twitch into a smile when she sees your homely, disheveled appearance and your blue "outfit". The only thing that helps her hold it together is the experience of many red carpets. Her smile immediately fades to indifference and her blue eyes catch up with the blizzard.

"Why do you need a curtain?" - coldly and indifferently. It's as fake and unnatural as possible, which both of you admit. If she wasn't interested, Eilish wouldn't have asked at all.

"So that you and I can win," - scratch your nose on purpose, grabbing a corner of the fabric for comicality. The lips opposite are trembling again in a restrained smile.

"And how will Mom's dusty curtain help us with this?"

"You... Will you be my Milo?

And no matter how much Billie bites her lip, she eventually bursts into laughter, looking at you with a gaze so trusting and loving that your heart flutters in your chest. The blue eyes are the calmest lake in the world, devoid of any resentment. You help her remove half of the canopy from its fasteners and she hurriedly wraps herself in it, "dressed" in red.

"Are you ready to complete this last level?"

"Where did you go? I should know, but it's cold..." - instead of answering, you hum, looking expectantly at your Milo. Billie is a raking scarlet embrace that immediately envelops you.

"And I don't wanna be lonely, was hoping you'd come home." - her soft soprano response. All you have to do is smile and bury your nose in her collarbone, breathing in her favorite scent. No words are needed now.

Ilo and Milo embrace. The level is passed.

[lushrue]

cold beer on a friday night

heard "a little bit of chicken fried" in a white people anthems compilation the other day and i immediately started thinking of everyone’s favorite southern boy, phillip graves! so have some good ol’ cowboy smut for your weekend! (also did not expect this to be almost 4k words, but here we are)

afab!reader (she/her pronouns used), nsfw, minors dni!!

cw: drinking, unprotected p-in-v sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering, creampie, heavy praise kink

the bar was pretty packed, but you expected that it would be.

living in a military town, you’d learned when the busy times were. weekends, most evenings after 8 PM, and holidays. this one was the biggest one of all in your community, fourth of july looming around the corner and bringing star-spangled festivity with it. the bar itself was adorned with an american flag banner that people would occasionally toast to before taking a shot. the string lights above the patio had been changed from their pale yellow to shine red, white, and blue. occasionally, as you sat there drinking your cheap beer, someone would break out in a drunken rendition of the star-spangled banner, causing everyone to either sing along or raise their glass in solidarity.

it was entertaining for you, if nothing else. watching men who’d made their country their whole lives celebrate it was its own brand of inspiring. the town felt the same around memorial day and veteran’s day too. you’d been pretty staunchly anti-military for most of your adult life, holding the belief in world peace that only someone who hadn’t experienced war could. but seeing these men who wouldn’t have known each other if not for their brotherhood of service expressing their love for their country, it almost made you want to believe in their cause. still, despite the atmosphere, patriotism wasn’t the foremost thing in your mind tonight.

you weren’t expecting to find the love of your life, not in a place like this. it was hardly the fairytale castle you’d envisioned as a little girl and the men here were certainly no prince charming. all you could ask for was someone to treat you right for a night. focus on you a little bit, take his time. if you got real lucky, maybe he’d even make you cum. the proverbial bar wasn’t in hell, but it was close enough to feel the flames. it’d been months since your deadbeat of an ex-boyfriend dumped you, and despite how bad of an idea your friends had told you it was, you were looking for a rebound. nothing serious or long-term, just a good fuck to set you right and then you could be on your way. it was hard to get anywhere in the dating scene with this insatiable ache between your legs.

you nursed your budweiser, the condensation leaking between your fingertips as you took a drink from the bottle. it tasted like piss, but like everyone always says, you don’t drink for the taste. weary eyes scan the bar and its patrons, looking for anyone who isn’t already fall-on-their-face drunk. it was slim pickins; almost everyone here had started their evening of debauchery hours ago with no signs of stopping. the sober ones were mostly grizzled veterans, watching the younger soldiers with a glint of something akin to nostalgia. you supposed that must have been them once, disregarding their livers for a night of fun with buddies that they could lose in an instant. they certainly wouldn’t be scratching your itch for you anytime soon, so your gaze moved on. 

finally, your eyes settled on a blond man sitting by himself at a high top. you’d seen him here before a couple of times. he was always alone, on the fringes of whatever drunken activity was going on. you’d never seen him so much as stumble while he was here, downing his couple of whiskeys in peace before closing out and heading home. he was handsome, you supposed. older than you, but not enough to make anyone clutch their pearls. muscular, scar on his cheek. still clearly military, but a bit more weathered than the twenty-somethings throwing back jaegerbombs.

little did you know, he’d seen you too. he’d seen how you came every weekend, like clockwork, looking like you were begging for company. it was sweet, he thought, how desperate you were for attention. you were like a puppy with those doe eyes of yours. just begging to be noticed, to be taken into someone’s arms and loved proper. he was sure you tasted as sweet as you looked. just as your eyes met his, you looked away with a blush. had he caught you staring? you couldn’t be sure. you cursed yourself for your bashfulness, clutching the neck of your beer bottle a little tighter. how were you ever going to get laid if you didn’t go for it?

luckily, your military man wasn’t one to wait around. he got up from his table, sauntering towards you with a confidence that was completely innate. this wasn’t born of liquid courage. no, he knew he had something you wanted. you clear your throat and look up as he lays his hand on the chair across from you. “this seat taken?” he asked, his voice slow and easy like he wasn’t in a hurry. nobody was around here, you supposed. you shake your head no and he takes it as an invitation. the chair pulled out with a squeaking noise drowned out by someone breaking out into “my country 'tis of thee.”

you take another swig of beer to loosen your tongue and give you some charisma that you wouldn’t have sober. the man held his hand out to you, his tumbler full of amber in the other. “i’m phillip. you can call me phil.” you take his hand without a second thought, shaking politely. god, how bad off were you if touching a man’s hand made you practically feral? you give your name in reply, withdrawing your hand before your mind runs off with unsavory images. the last thing you needed was to scare off the one eligible bachelor in the bar who’d seen fit to approach you. a cursory glance at his left hand revealed no wedding ring. you weren’t looking to add “homewrecker” to your long list of accomplishments.

“what’s a lovely lady like you doin’ all by herself?” he asked in a charming southern drawl that made your blood pump a little faster. it reminded you of those cheap cowboy romance novels that you sometimes indulged in. everyone had their guilty pleasures, after all. “enjoyin’ the atmosphere,” you quip back, sarcasm dripping from your words. you take another drink of beer. phil leans forward, his weight shifting to his muscular forearms. your eyes drop down, struggling not to salivate at the sight. it really had been too long. he tips a finger under your chin, guiding your gaze back up to him. “i think the atmosphere’d be better someplace else,” he said, his voice low so as not to be overheard. maybe it was just how pent up you were, but you could swear there was desire undercutting his words. “whaddya say, darlin’? how ‘bout you and me get on outta here?”

you have to stop yourself from replying too quickly. you didn’t want to show your hand and reveal your desperation just yet. he smirked when you nodded slowly, your muscles tense with the effort of holding back your excitement. didn’t you know he could smell it on you from across the bar? ever the gentleman, phil closed out both your tabs. there wasn’t much on yours anyways, just a couple of budweisers and one vodka cranberry that you’d stopped drinking halfway through. as you stood beside him at the bar, watching the bartender run his card, he wrapped his arm around your waist. his fingers dug into the plush of your hip with a subtle possessiveness meant to ward off any other interested parties. it sent a thrill through you, your panties getting more uncomfortable the longer you stood there.

thankfully, the cool night air outside the bar leveled your head a bit. not enough to make you think deeply about your decision to get into a strange man’s truck, but enough to keep you from jumping his bones the moment the door shut. you climbed up into the passenger seat, feeling for your pepper spray in your purse. just in case, you told yourself. handsome men could be creeps too. you barely noticed him getting into the driver’s seat, turning the engine over and pulling out of the gravel parking lot.

you two make it maybe five miles down the road before you have to stop. you keep throwing glances at phil, watching his concentration while he drives. you’ve never been able to explain it, but there’s something so sexy about a man with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh. he keeps kneading into the fat, fingertips brushing the muscle underneath with how hard he’s squeezing. you’re soft, he thinks. plush, pliant, perfect. the air is charged, the silence comfortable but tinged with the anticipation of what’s to come. it’s when he feels your thighs clench together that he pulls off onto a little dirt road, the tires kicking up dust. on some level, you’re grateful for his lack of restraint. you weren’t sure you were going to last much longer either.

you clamber into his backseat, careful not to mar the leather with your stiletto heels. he climbs back there with you, settling into the seat and patting his thigh. “c’mere, pretty girl,” he says sweetly, and you maneuver yourself to straddle his lap. the heat of your cunt is right against him now and his hands clench around your hips. he can practically smell how needy you are. you bite your lip to stifle a whine, the firmness of him through his jeans providing delicious pressure on your clit. suddenly, you’re thanking god for little red dresses. phillip’s eyes flutter shut as he bucks his hips, pressing his erection against you a little harder. that elicits the sound he wanted and he chuckles, his laugh like rolling thunder.

“it’s been too long since that pretty pussy’s had any attention, huh, sweetheart?” he asks. you can hear a tone of condescension, but you don’t care. not when there is a warm body beneath you about to soothe the ache that’s been there since your ex moved out. you nod in response and he hums, tugging the straps of your dress down. “in a minute, darlin’. i’ll get to her later. there’s other parts of you i’d like to get acquainted with first.” you’re putty in his hands, mindlessly nodding along with everything he says. he could tell you he’s taking you out in the woods to kill you and you’d be fine with it as long as he fucked you first. the top half of your dress falls away as he tugs at the zipper, pulling it down just enough to reveal your chest. you’d made a good choice of bra that night at least: your favorite black push-up with lace all over and a pretty bow in the center. he sucks air in through his teeth as he stares at you. he likes it too.

“as pretty as this little number is, i don’t wanna ruin it,” he says, his fingers ghosting down your spine to the clasp of your bra. your back arches, pushing your breasts forward. he smiles and unhooks it with practiced ease, sliding the straps all the way down your arms and easing them over your hands. fire blazes a trail down your skin behind his touch, your face flushing a pretty shade of pink. the bra hits the leather seat to the left of you, but you don’t have time to see where it went. phillip’s hands are on your chest, kneading into your tits the same way he did your thigh. you moan, your head falling back as you lose yourself in the euphoria of being touched. “that’s it, baby. god, these tits are so perfect. fit in my hands so nicely.” he brushes his thumb over one of your nipples, making it stiffen. your nose scrunches, the thrill from the contact going straight between your legs.

before you can say anything in reply, the warmth of his mouth is latched around your breast, his tongue teasing at the hardened bud in the center. you swear you could cry as relief washes over you. you’d found what you were looking for, finally. god was real, and he came in the form of phillip graves. while he sucked at one nipple, he teased the other with his fingers, rolling it and giving it the occasional flick. already you could feel the pleasure tightening in your core, threatening to push you over the edge if you thought too hard about everything he was doing. your hips start to rock of their own accord, chasing friction against his lap. one of his large hands moves down to hold you in place, his mouth releasing your breast with a pop. “all in due time, sweetness. you’re not in a rush, now, are ya?” you shake your head, eyes wide as you stare back at him.

“good. ‘cause i intend to take my time and enjoy ya.” thankfully, he moves on from your breasts to other, more neglected areas of your body. he unzips your dress like he’s unwrapping god’s gift to earth, reverent as his eyes rake across every inch of exposed flesh. the glint in his eyes is primal, animalistic. he’d devour you if given the chance. despite the awkwardness, you shimmy your dress off, your heels falling off your feet with it. it all falls to the floor in a heap, leaving you in nothing but your panties. always one for fairness, phillip unbuttons his shirt, tossing it to the side before catching your lips. his hand snakes up your back to hold your head in place, the other winding around your waist to pull you impossibly closer. your chest presses against his and he moans into your mouth at the feeling.

slowly, that hand around your waist starts to sneak down, edging closer to the waistband of your underwear. you don’t notice, too enraptured by the taste of whiskey on his tongue. you feel it when his hand slides against you, though. the kiss is broken by your gasp, the simple proximity of his fingers enough to make your hips roll down in search of pleasure. the thunder in his chest rumbles again, the hand on the back of your head tightening. “that’s what you really wanted tonight, isn’t it? someone to give this pretty cunt what it’s been achin’ for.” words don’t come. your mind is too preoccupied with the warmth of his skin to string together syntax. phillip’s fingers wind around your hair, tugging at it roughly. your head jerks back and you whine. that shouldn’t have felt as good as it did. “gotta use your words, baby girl. gotta tell me what you want or i’m gonna stop.” no, you didn’t want that. “t-touch me,” you manage to stutter out, your neck bent at an awkward angle by the force of his hand. he lets go, rubbing his thumb over the scalp he’d irritated. “good girl. you follow orders well.”

his fingers run along your slit, gathering your wetness on his digits. he smiles, his voice dropping a register as he leans in closer to you. “so desperate, baby. i can feel how needy you are. just a bitch in heat, ain’tcha?” you keen, your head nodding of its own accord. deep in your subconscious, you knew he was right. some part of you wanted to be ashamed, but it wasn’t strong enough to fight to the forefront. all you felt was burning need coursing through your veins and leaking out between your legs. he pulled his hand away, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking your juices off of them. the sight of his face made you moan. he looked like a man enjoying his last meal, eyes shut and a content smile on his face. “delicious,” he said softly, bringing that same hand up to your face. he cups your cheek and runs his thumb over your bottom lip, feeling the softness of your skin under his calloused hand.

phillip guides your mouth towards his, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. it’s all tongues and teeth, desperate, messy. you can taste yourself on him, the salty remnants of you left behind on his tongue. while he has you distracted with his mouth, he lowers his hand between your legs, tugging your panties to the side. black and lacy, just like the bra. he liked a girl with a sense of style. without warning, two of his fingers thrust into you, making you see stars. you moan into his mouth as he scissors you open, preparing you for him. his mouth leaves yours, leaning to the side to whisper in your ear. “gonna take my cock so well, aren’t you, baby? gonna take it like the whore you are. so fuckin’ needy.”

his words made you blush, heat rushing to your core. he starts pumping his fingers in and out, holding you in place by the scruff of your neck. you writhe as much as you’re able, your body overwhelmed by all the sensations he was providing you. he chuckles lowly in your ear, the sound sending a chill down your spine. “i know you will, darlin’. i know you will. that pretty cunt is just swallowin’ my fingers. she’s a greedy little thing, ain’t she?” you couldn’t respond. it was hard enough for your brain to convert the sounds into meaningful words, let alone formulate a response. you were practically mute, save for the whimpers and mewls that flowed unbidden. he picks up the pace and your eyes screw shut, pressure building in your belly. “phil! ‘m gonna-” he cuts you off with another brutal kiss, his tongue bullying its way into your mouth.

all the while, you’re rocking your hips, letting the pleasure build. he pulls away, tilting your head down so that you’re looking into his eyes. “i’m gonna make you come on my fingers, then you’re gonna come on my cock like a good girl. understand?” his tone was forceful enough that you registered the command and you nodded along. you’d do anything he wanted if it meant he didn’t stop. he nodded back and focused in on you, his fingers curling right against that spongy spot deep inside you. “c’mon, baby. give it to me,” he said, his voice ragged as he watched your face. he knew you’d look so pretty falling apart on his lap. and you really did. the pressure released, setting your whole body trembling. you cried out, back arching. your mouth fell open, moaning as you rode out the wave of pleasure. as soon as you’d caught your breath, he yanked his fingers away, leaving you empty and dripping all over the seat. you whined at the loss, but you weren’t empty long. 

he freed himself from his jeans and underwear, giving himself a couple pumps before guiding his leaking cockhead to your warmth. you whine as he taps it against your clit, his ragged breathing the only reply. when you open your eyes and look at him, he looks just as debauched as you feel. feeling you clench around his fingers, watching your face, it had done something to him. without another word, he pushes himself inside. just a little bit at first, and you’re thankful for it. the tip of him is already stretching you wider than your biggest toy. he holds your chin in his thumb and forefinger, guiding your eyes down to his. “you’re doing so good, you pretty thing. need ya to give me one more. think you can do that for me?” you nod, letting gravity sink you a little further down on his cock. he hisses through clenched teeth, cheeks burning red.

phillip’s hands on your hips are steadying, easing you down until he’s bottomed out inside you. the moan you let out is a sound you’re wholly unfamiliar with. wanton, crass, loud to boot. he groans alongside you, his fingers digging into the plush of your ass. you give yourself a moment to adjust to the fullness. he’s not longer than you can handle, but he’s thick, stretching your walls as much as they can take. the burn fades into something warmer, something softer, and that’s when you know you can give him another. you start to bounce up and down, slowly at first before picking up the pace. his head leans back against the seat, reveling in the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him. “fuck, baby! you take me so well, knew you would. this pussy’s so good, so wet. all for me, all fuckin’ mine.”

his words are slurred, his tongue heavy in his mouth as he lets himself get drunk on the pleasure. you’re not far behind, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot every time you sink down onto his lap. he presses his hips into yours, thrusting into you to shove himself deeper. you moan into his ear, bracing yourself as your shaking thighs try desperately to keep up. that’s when he starts helping, lifting you up and spearing you on his cock over and over. your eyes roll back in your head and the pressure builds again before you even know what’s happening. all of a sudden, you’re hovering right over the edge, breath heavy and head fuzzy. you must have tightened around him because phil makes an absolutely unholy noise, his head falling back against the seat.

“god damn,” he breathes out, a hand leaving your hip to tug at your hair. it was so attractive, the way he lifted you on his lap like you weighed nothing. your head falls back as he yanks at the roots of your hair, the jolt of pain threatening to push you over the edge. he’s moaning right alongside you, watching the way your tits bounce and your body jiggles as you bounce on his cock. “need you to come again, sweetness,” he says, tilting your head so you’re looking at him. “look me in the eye, don’t you stop lookin’ at me.” you obey, letting the pleasure build in you as he pushes himself impossibly deeper. his gaze is intense, unwavering. the pressure, the fullness is all too much and you tip over, your walls gripping him in a vice as you come.

that turns him into an animal, rutting into you with abandon as you ride out your orgasm. just when it gets to be too much, when you’re about to tap out, the warmth of his spend floods into you. you whine at the sensation, too lost in your own head to relish in the sounds he made. some men liked to talk through it, mumble out some incoherent praise or compliments. not phil. no, he moaned. the sounds fell from his lips as his hips stuttered, his fingers digging painfully into your skin. the hand in your hair tightens as well, causing you to hiss in pain. he doesn’t even register the sound, too lost in his own pleasure.

when his eyes finally meet yours again, they look much like your own. blissed out blues meet your cumdrunk gaze. his chest heaves as he slides himself out of you, pulling you down to lay against him. his spend drips out of you and you begin to protest, but he shushes you. “‘s alright, darlin’. i’m gettin’ the truck detailed tomorrow.” you settle, catching your breath as your ear presses against his chest. you can hear his heart thundering in his chest, threatening to beat right out of his skin. “you did so good for me,” he says, raking his fingers through your hair. “such a good, obedient girl.”

you smile at the praise, his words warming something deep within you. “same time next week?” he asks, and you nod. finally, you’d found what you were looking for.

[gingerteafairy]

𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒆 (𝒌𝒂𝒊 𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

You’re preparing to tell Kai you want to leave the cult, assuming he’s unaware of your intentions. Little do you know. His perceptiveness is far beyond what feels humanly or even legally possible

tags n warnings: angst, anxiety, health problems, manipulation, est. relationship, validation. word count: 1.4k

Joining the Cult was something else.

You never wanted to be there. Never wanted to be part of it. Where people obeyed his orders like mindless puppets, terrified of punishment from either Kai or God himself. Only He knew what hell it was to exist in that place.

Anxiety gnawed at you constantly, your eyes darting around, desperate to leave the moment the door opened. The air was thick with unease. Taking anti-anxiety pills was like an anesthetic, dulling the growing pain of being trapped in this nightmare. You wanted out—yes, more than anything. So why couldn’t you leave?

Was it the praises? The applause? The validation for your talent? No, you had all that back in college or the pub where you sang jazzy songs to make money. Was it the convenience? Having everything you could ever want—luxurious food, jewelry, revenge for the wicked society? No, it was worse.

Kai Anderson.

Cult leader. Fear impersonated. Hot. Your man—or better yet, your fiancé. You hated how pathetic you felt, whining and obeying his every command, just wanting to be good for him, validated by him. You’d do anything—anything—to see that beautiful face smile at you, to hear the sweet words, Good girl. Yet your altered electrocardiogram screamed for relief, just like your blood tests and mixed-up hormones.

“Kai,” you called weakly from behind him, fingers trembling as they curled around his black sweatshirt.

He turned slowly, his blue hair catching the light like a red signal for your nerves to short-circuit. A damn 3D glasses on a slash-horror movie. “What d’you want, suga?”

You swallowed hard, legs turning to jelly. His pet names always weakened you. “I’m tired, Kai…” Your voice sounded pathetic, a mere whisper.

He smiled, cupping your face with a gentle touch of his thumb, his caress both a warning and a comfort. Kai never did anything without hidden intention—every touch was calculated. “I know, doll. You look like a crushed kitten. It’s so sad.”

Your throat tightened, a twisted mix of emotions bubbling up. “Crushed kitten? What does that even mean? Do I look that ugly?”

“No,” he said, his voice a smooth melody. “You never look ugly to me. You're perfect.” His praise was like honey, dripping from his lips. “You look ravishing, even with those dark bags under your eyes and stress wrinkles. So hardworking.”

His thumb froze against your skin, a cold silence settling between you. His eyes darkened, sharp and calculating, as he examined you with a look that made you feel like you were laid bare before him. He wasn’t oblivious—Kai was far from that. He saw everything, sensed everything. It was unsettling, how perceptive he was. More than anyone legally or humanly should be.

“Kai…” You couldn't hold it back anymore. “I’m tired. I can’t take it anymore.” Your words rushed out before you could stop them. You knew if you let him charm you again, you wouldn’t be able to escape. “It’s the cult. I don’t want to be part of it anymore. It’s exhausting. I’m having panic attacks, I can’t sleep…”

“You want out?” he asked softly, and you knew it wasn’t a simple question.

“I…yes,” you whispered, shivering. “I’ll die if i stay here. All I do is take pills and drown myself in TV shows so I can forget where I am. Where I… where you put me.” The words tumbled out in a rush, but the dread in your chest only deepened.

Kai looked at you, his gaze piercing, as if he were reading the very essence of your soul. His proximity was suffocating, his breath warm on your face as he leaned in, keeping that damn eye contact that always made you feel like you couldn’t breathe.

“And where exactly d’you plan to go?” His voice was velvet, threading through your mind like a shot of blue lagoon, extra vodka and lemons. “Jonestown? Heaven’s Gate? Gonna be a little missionary for the damn Mormons?”

“I… don’t know…” you muttered, surrendering to the intoxicating sensation of his kisses on your face. You were weak, helpless. “I just don’t want to be here… I don't… I want…”

“Just tell me what you want, doll,” he whispered, pulling you closer, his strong arms wrapping around you like a bondage. Intense, carnal, caring. “I’ll do anything you want. You know I always take care of you, don't you?”

“I know you do, love.” You couldn’t stop yourself from melting into him, his eyes holding you captive, making you feel small and precious all at once.

“Then why do you want to leave?” His voice was quiet now, almost gentle, as he kissed the crook of your neck, breathing you in. Drunk in blue freezie in summer. “Why do you want to leave me?”

The question hit like a blow, but you couldn’t ignore the tug of his warmth. “I don’t want to leave you… I…”

“Then don’t.” His insistence was soft, yet his gaze hardened, and for a fleeting moment, something like sadness flashed in his chocolate eyes. It was subtle, hidden beneath layers of manipulation, but it was there. And it seemed to consume him as a poison, the defenseless of love.“Do you remember what you said when I proposed?”

Oh, you did remember. You could never forget. The way he made all your dreams come true on that day, how he made love that night. Leading you to that table with his pinky raised—no kneeling, no humiliating gestures. No. He was the one standing, while you sat, holding his pinky in a bond that would never be broken.

He was the one who started the vow, taking your hand on his heart. “Same bond, same faith. Flesh and bones till the grave. I'll give you my life, because you're the one that I crave”

You blushed, taking his hand to your heart as you completed the little spell. “Go where you’re going. Dream the same dreams. Eat what you eat. Do what you do. You’re the head, and I’ll be there for you.”

His grin was knowing, and he kissed both of your cheeks before returning his gaze to yours. “Yes. And now you’re going to break that contract we made? The one you promised me, wearing that pretty blue silk dress I gave you?”

“No…” you murmured, lowering your head, defeated. “I can’t…”

“Hey,” he said, gently lifting your chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Are you sad to be with me? Is it a sacrifice?”

“No,” you whispered, grabbing onto his shirt, pulling him closer. “It’s not a sacrifice. You’re the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me. I'm grateful for having you, to be the one you chose for being yours.”

“I'm the one who is grateful… I don’t deserve you.” His smile was bittersweet, his hand smoothing your hair before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You’re my angel.”

“And you’re my savior, Kai.” You nestled into him, a tear slipping down your cheek as he massaged your shoulders. “’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, honey.” His voice was low, soothing, as his hands worked along the length of your back. “You’re just tired. Sleep a little, okay? You need rest.”

You pulled away slightly, but only enough to meet his gaze. “But what about the—”

“I’ll take care of everything.” His words were firm, cutting off any further concern. “Don’t worry about anything in that pretty little head of yours. Just focus on being beautiful and happy for our last act. Do you still have that dress I gave you? The one from the proposal?”

You smiled, nodding. “Yeah, it’s in my drawer, right next to the Colt you gave me on my birthday.”

“Good girl,” he said, his grin widening as he ruffled your hair, giggling when you smiled like a puppy. The words you needed to hear. “I’m so proud of you.”

He squeezed your arms in a comforting manner, and in that moment, you felt like everything might be okay. “I love you, babe.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

Crazy things we do for love. Even the things that consume us. But in the end, he would take care of you—even if it meant holding onto you as you decomposed, because you were his princess, his wonderwall, the one thing he would be proud to fight for. His one and only perfect muse.

taglist: @ikkyfics

dividers @junabuggy

[drarryspecificrecs]

H/D Wireless 2023 : (fics only)

@hd-wireless || official masterpost || AO3 || stats: 60 works The Mods : @candybarrnerd, @gnarf & @maesterchill Banner © :

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@itsphantasmagoria's Alive - ♫ Alive (2015) by Sia

@babooshkart's keep driving - ♫ Keep Driving (2022) by Harry Styles

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★ The playlist : Youtube | Spotify

(you) find me when the lights go down by @beyondtheclose [T, 1k] ♫ save me from the monster in my head (2020) by Welshly Arms

About This Place by @academicdisasterfic [E, 10k] ♫ You And I (2011) by Lady Gaga

All I Think About by @skeptiquewrites [T, 4k] ♫ Heat Waves (2020) by Glass Animals

All the Colors in the World by @autumnsup [M, 11k] ♫ Cinnamon Girl (2019) by Lana Del Rey

All These Little Things by @cluelesspigeons [M, 1k] ♫ Little Things (2012) by One Direction

Before the Cold Sets In by @crazybutgood & @vukovich [T, 9k] ♫ Cold Tea Blues (2021) by Cowboy Junkies

Better not Touch (Don't Touch) by @dreamingandwideawake [E, 8k] ♫ Poison (2005) by Alice Cooper

The Boys of Summer by @saxamophone [E, 19k] ♫ The Boys of Summer (1984) by Don Henley

Burst of Love by @drarryruinedme7 [E, 3k] ♫ Jealous (2014) by Nick Jonas

Can't Get You Out of My Head by @use-it-well [E, 26k] ♫ Can't Get You Out of My Head (2001) by Kylie Minogue

Don’t hate him when he gets up to leave by @deliciousblizzardshark [M, 2k] ♫ Two-Headed Boy (1998) by Neutral Milk Hotel

the eighth sin by @thehoneybeet [E, 16k] ♫ Seven Devils (2011) by Florence + The Machine

Everybody Hates a Tourist by @wolfpants [E, 51k] ♫ Common People (2011) by Pulp

I only want the ones I envy (I envy) by @porcelainheart3 [E, 13k] ♫ MONTERO (Call Me By Your Name) (2021) by Lil Nas X

if i could never give you peace by @poisonivy206 [E, 17k] ♫ peace (2020) by Taylor Swift

If You Took the Time to Try by enoby_w [T, 18k] ♫ Go Like (2019) by Fox Stevenson

If You Were Gay by @inheartofwinter [G, 9k] ♫ If You Were Gay (2003) by John Tartaglia & Rick Lyon

LA, Who Am I To Love You? by @epitomereally [E, 42k] ♫ Venice Bitch (2018) by Lana del Rey

love is just a shout in the void by @ravenesse [M, 4k] ♫ i'm in love with u, sorry (2017) by j'san

Lover, Where Do You Live? by @dodgerkedavra [E, 38k] ♫ Lover, Where Do You Live? (2014) by Highasakite

Mirrors inside me by @cavendishbutterfly [E, 6k] ♫ Love Language (2022) by SZA

A Pureblood's Guide to Driving and Apostasy by @meandminniemcg [E, 9k] ♫ I'm On Fire (1979) by Bruce Springsteen

Rich Friend by @sorrybutblog [E, 18k] ♫ Rich Friends (2017) by Portugal. The Man

Seven Days, Seven Memories by @queenie-jinny [E, 25k] ♫ Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want (1984) by The Smiths

Shut Up, This Is Love by @thunderfiction [M, 33k] ♫ The Chain (1977) by Fleetwood Mac

Snitches & Sitches by @multiverse-of-fanfic [T, 4k] ♫ Once Upon a December (1997) by Liz Callaway

so scarlet it was by @hanniballevter [E, 19k] ♫ Maroon (2022) by Taylor Swift

Stars By the Pocketful by @phoebe-delia [E, 2k] ♫ Snow On the Beach (2022) by Taylor Swift feat. Lana Del Rey

Sun Thief by @floydig [E, 28k] --- ART by BlackRose532 Anti-Hero (2022) by Taylor Swift

Take You Home by @lqtraintracks [E, 26k] ♫ F*** the Pain Away (2000) by Peaches & Take You Home (2019) by Dido

Title & Possession by @kbrick [E, 49k] ♫ Misery Loves Company (2021) by Asking Alexandria

The Two Of Us In Sympathy by @ladderofyears [M, 5k] ♫ Rent (1987) by Pet Shop Boys

Vipera Berus by Justlikewriting [M, 20k] ♫ Just Pretend (2022) by Bad Omens

The Waiting by @oknowkiss [E, 43k] --- ART by @babooshkart This Tornado Loves You (2009) by Neko Case

Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w [E, 21k] --- ART by @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm The Christmas Song (2011) by The Raveonettes

Weapons of Massive Consumption by @sandervansunshine [E, 38k] ♫ The Fear (2009) by Lily Allen

What is this feeling? by @fanficandlit [E, 4k] ♫ What Is This Feeling? (2003) by Idina Menzel & Kristin Chenoweth

What We Left Behind by @peachydreamxx [E, 32k] ♫ The Day We Caught The Train (1996) by Ocean Colour Scene

—

✔ other fests in 2023 ✔ fests in other years ✔ H/D Wireless : 2022 | 2021 | 2020 | 2019 | 2018 | 2017

[backwardshatnick]

let it flicker ⟢₊ ⊹*:･

in which chris helps you realise when to stop and finally be clean.

pairing: ex-smoker!chris x smoker!reader wc: 2.8k notes: chris just seems like a really sweet boy and i don't credit that side of him enough ᡣ𐭩 also i do not condone smoking, vaping or anything of that kind. please try to quit while you still can, folks! [divider credits to: @enchanthings-a]

"shit," you muttered under your breath, thumb flicking continuously over the metallic sparkwheel on your dark blue lighter but to no avail. minute twinkles kept on glimmering each time you flicked, though a steady flame could never form. you knew smoking in one’s room in the dormitory could risk you from losing an actual roof for the week, but averting your vision to how dilapidated the building was, spending an extra hundred dollars at an airbnb where everything was kept trim and systematic can be seen as an absolute bargain. you took the unlit cigarette from your mouth, placing it in between your index and middle finger and soon after tossing the lighter at the rubbish bin under your study desk.

the digital clock on the table glowed yellow with the numbers 00:53, marking that 53 minutes into sunday has already passed. while surely everyone is out partying or is at a nearby bar having a time of their life, that’s just not how it is for you. sundays were always the day spent at a local library where you volunteered in assisting the pensioners in learning an extra language. and that was how you got into the habit of smoking. it could have been your sincere and hospitable behaviour, maybe you being brought up by your grandparents most of the time was a factor in you blooming into an amiable adult who had a better understanding of the elderly. or it could have been the sense of maturity that you had which contrasted to those of your own peers. hence, after each volunteering session, some of the pensioners who always had their free time tend to invite you over to join for a chat, be it at the comfort of their shabby but tantalizing flat, where each decor stuck to the wall and fridge magnets bore a distant memory of their exhilarating youth. each conversation and each exchange of words used to be accompanied by a ceramic pot of freshly brewed herbal tea, a bowl of crisp fruits and even a plate of warm scones, but soon transitioned into two or even three packs of cigarettes, the exquisite kind where they claimed to not have the acrid burning scent lingering on your clothes and body.

maybe this was just one of your coping mechanisms to deal with the loss of your grandparents last summer. you will admit, this was not a good habit, but if it lets you reignite the lingering ache and longing for them by seeing the retirees, you would do everything to relief the absence.

however, you haven’t had your cigarette fix in days. despite yesterday being a saturday, you had agreed to go to the library with your friend to accompany her with a group assignment where the both of you ended up spending your entire day in the shared glass cubicle. you were starting to get jittery, frustrated and anxious, even, the withdrawal slowly consuming you. getting up from your wooden chair and closing the window that you had initially open to smoke, you started to pace around the room to stop the feeling of restlessness from dominating you and to warm yourself from the cool air that had been entering for the past five minutes. that was until you remembered him, christopher, the boy who lived somewhere on your floor who had started an anti-smoking campaign at the campus, where he would constantly stick posters on the billboards of every department and faculty and conduct programmes where students who plan on quitting can hand in their cigarettes, lighters, vape pens and pods into a box where chris would collect them and god knows what he does to them.

both of you never really spoke, asides from that one encounter where he berated you for lighting a cigarette at the laundry room.

“my laundry is supposed to smell like fresh birch and bergamot, but here you are with your tar-filled lungs infesting my clothes. mind doing your business elsewhere? or better yet, quit?” that was starting to tick you off, who does this guy think he is? chastising something that you cannot help but do and he doesn’t even know you. “what are you? the laundry police?” surely, that was not your best comeback, but it was against your better judgement to get so worked up over some fluffy-haired brunette whose eyes glimmered with hues of the vast sky. those eyes which are currently staring at you with obvious displeasure. he took it as a sign to take things down a notch and held his right hand out for a truce, “actually, my name is chris and i am starting a campaign sponsored by the university for smoking students to quit. trust me, i used to vape every single hour of the day but as an athlete, i knew better and had to know better. i can give you our brochures because you surely need them.” you were busy inhaling through the cig to put your complete attention to him, so instead you exhaled the smoke onto his face and with a smug leer replied, “i couldn’t fucking care less,” leaving the boy astounded but he knew deep within you, there was potential in alleviating the situation. these kinds of people were the ones that he has been facing anyway ever since the movement had started.

but you were desperate. just a few puffs and everything would tone down, you knew you were never this dependent and you literally only go through a pack a week, but the shortage of nicotine in your system is driving you insane. the pack that you had was the last one and you were only left with a stick. wasting money was another thing and you are left anguished.

without a pause, you unlocked your door and went out to the corridor, eyes scanning each room that had a light switched on, signalling that for sure someone is still awake. and you were certain that at least another person would have a lighter at their arsenal, even if that meant going to chris’s room.

the hallway was dim and unusually silent, saturday nights were typically boisterously spent, with students blasting their loud music from their rooms and the bass would tend to vibrate the floor. but today was different. the tranquility made your search for someone awake a lot more difficult. continuing your silent steps, you finally heard a click of a door, signalling that someone had just entered their room. deep in your senses, you finalised that it was the room to your right and with the courage you had left you knocked it twice.

it didn't take long for the owner to open the door and to your surprise, it was chris, his hair wet and minty-fresh breath evident as he snorted, “fucking finally. here to rectify your sins?”

“i know that we didn’t really have a good first impression of each other, but i really need your help. do you still have the lighters—,” your eyes met him, sneering at his words before noticing that something was certainly off. his eyes are bloodshot red, he just finished showering and him exhaling his words caused the air to be overpowered with a strange peppery cool scent, “you lying bastard! you steal those lighters and vapes for your own good!”

chris immediately clamped his hand over your mouth and pulling you into his room, “can you actually shut the fuck up? it’s literally one in the morning. and no, i literally just got back from showering and got shampoo in my eyes, you idiot. let’s sit down and have a proper introduction with each other,” he pulled out a wooden creaky chair and gestured his arm out for you to take a seat.

it didn’t take long for the both of you to be acquainted, discovering that chris is majoring in sports management, taking part in the basketball team to further secure a spot in the michigan wolverines which explains his firm stance on smoking. but you were only here for a lighter, not a new friend. you broke the amiable flow of words when the topic of smoking was raised, “so, what do you usually do with the lighters then? speaking of which i so badly need now.”

he rolled his eyes upon hearing your response, “you’re ruining the vibes, man. let’s go, we’re heading off somewhere.”

“no way! i have work tomorrow at 10.”

“well, i guess you’re not gonna have your lighter then,” chris responded, pointing to the maroon pack of cigarettes you had hidden in the pocket of your hoodie, standing up to grab his own phone, wallet, keys, sweater and an ambiguous small wooden box.

thankfully, you had your phone and keys with you and it’s not like you were that sleepy, so the both of you left the dorm and headed over to the bicycle parking racks.

“chris,” you voiced out, “i don’t know how to bike.”

he had already unlocked his bicycle from its anchor on the metal pole and let out a soft chuckle, patting gently on the slightly larger, pillowy seat at the back, “chill, i can bike for the both of us. see this seat here, that’s yours.”

the bike ride took no longer than ten minutes and the both of you had already arrived at a nature reserve. nearing the metal racks, chris hoisted his leg down from the bicycle, with you following after as he started to lock his bicycle and lifted your seat to take out the wooden box that he had brought from his room.

“since you’re so curious, this box has all the lighters and vapes that my team and i collect every week. it’s not that heavy this time because it was nate’s turn to throw them away this friday, but someone did come up to me yesterday with some stuff to dispose of. if you’re lucky, the lighters might still work.”

you stopped in your tracks, “wait, so you’re not going to stop me?”

“what’s the rush? that’s not how helping someone works. you just have to let everything fall into place and it will happen naturally. i’m gonna be here to watch you finish that whole pack before promising each other that we will not do anything that future us could be disappointed in. just don’t overthink it and focus on yourself. everything will be alright,” he said, both of you heading towards a wooden bench, which was conveniently placed under a streetlamp where it faces a large pond.

the water was quite still, only a few small ripples forming on the surface whenever the cold breeze passed by. similarly, the air was as stationary as the water was and the faint sound of cars roaring and rustle of leaves caught your senses. chris finally opened the box, revealing two cracked vape pens, both orange in colour, and to your luck, a lime green bic lighter. fishing through it, he placed the lighter in his grasp and passed it to you, “here, let’s try it out.”

before you could graze your thumb over the fork of the lighter, a voice had called out, interrupting your movements, “excuse me. do any of you happen to have a cig?”

the both of you shifted your attention from the lighter and looked up, where a woman in her mid-thirties dressed in a sparkly silver dress with suede blue boots gave an affable grin, eyes glimmering with hope as it focused on the very pack of cigarettes you had on your thigh.

“please. i have an important party that i want to go to but i first need something to get me out of this misery. i can’t attend it feeling like shit,” she pleaded, hands now clasped together.

you turned your head to look over to chris, who grinned looking pleased with himself and shrugged, “i don’t know, maybe she needs it more than you do. i’m not trying to play the hero here.”

with a heavy exhale, you reluctantly handed the lady both the cigarette pack and lighter and mustered the best cheery voice you could exude, “here you go.”

the lady immediately opened the pack and to her surprise there were two sticks of cigarettes left. she placed one in between her lips and lighted it up straight away, proving to both you and chris that it indeed was your lucky day.

“thanks a lot! may god bless,” she guffawed and hastened her footsteps to the party that she desperately wanted to go to after returning both the pack and lighter to you.

you took out the white tube of tobacco, letting it stay in between your index and middle finger of your right hand and with one press of the lighter, you waited for the cigarette to light up. the smell of tobacco was evident and had started to accumulate as chris, without hesitation, stood up to create a distance between the two of you. however, he ended up being perplexed as you only let it light up and never brought yourself to inhale it.

“are you just going to let it flicker?” he broke the silence.

with a nod, you grind the ashes of the cigarette on the nearby rubbish bin and made sure that it was not glowing red before throwing it away with the other trash, “don’t feel like taking a drag anymore. maybe you were right all along. everything will be alright and i shouldn’t be tripping over something that isn’t worth it.”

he responded with a warm smile, eyes forming crescents as he looked at you with pride, “atta girl. wanna go back home now?”

you returned his grin with similar affection before standing up and following after him to dispose the lighters and vapes. he showed you that he tends to come here because of the pond, making it accessible for him to ensure that the vapes and lighters will stop working after dipping them in the water before getting rid of them in the public park’s rubbish bins. once that was settled, the both of you took off on his bicycle to the dormitory, where you had your arms wrapped around chris’s waist as he paddled away with his cheeks flushed not only from the constant gusts of air, but from the intimate gesture received from you, a habit that you had likely picked up from your childhood whenever you sat behind your grandmother when you joined her to pick up fresh produce at the countryside.

the silhouette of the dormitory building was starting to become comprehensible as the minutes passed, stating that the both of you were about to reach home. chris stopped pedalling as he asked you to come down from his bike as he simply pushed it to park it to its place. once he was finished double-locking it, he took your slightly freezing hand into his identical chilly hand, “thought you might need some warmth too.”

“please, your hands are as cold too,” you giggled, as your fingers had interlocked with each others’ and walked hand-in-hand towards the main entrance of the building.

as the both of you lived on the same floor, bidding your goodbyes was not as awkward as you had thought. the both of you are now stood in front of the door to your room, painted beige with stickers of herbs and flowers plastered across it, signifying your dedication to your major.

“thank you chris for tonight. and i’m sorry that i wasn’t really myself when we first encountered each other. i think i will help myself into becoming clean.”

he ruffled your hair, making a mess out of your dutch braids, “you’re most welcome kid. my source of joy and happiness is letting others know how much happiness and joy they bring me. i set up this campaign with the aim of helping others, so knowing that this is your response, makes me a thousand times happier than i should be.”

fixing the stray hairs from your forehead, you expressed your gratitude to him again, “i really do appreciate what you have done, so let me return the gesture. meet me tomorrow 4pm, at the library that’s on the same street as the old kebab shop. i will treat you to some when i am done with the pensioners. deal?”

“deal. good night, kid. it’s getting really late and i swear my eyelids are drooping low right now. i gotta go,” he answered, the smile not leaving his face alongside the shine from his teeth visible to your sight.

the both of you went in your respective rooms, unbeknownst to each other that the both of you had your legs kicking the bed with a muffled squeal, excitement and anticipation flickering through your veins with a strong craving and desire for the pleasant night to repeat itself, but in a cleaner chapter of your life.

[renatogpadilla]

How Lux Met Jinx:

The locals called her "Isha, the Witch"...

Luxanna Crownguard, calls her "Firework". But it didn't start like that.

It had just been another day. That's what she referred to them now. "Another day". Another day of hiding who she was. Of hoping against hope she had enough Petricide Potion to keep her powers in check another day...

She needed a break. She needed to GO. So when she rode her beloved horse Starfire to a little village on the outskirts of Demacia to clear her head and heard about a Witch in the woods that even the Mageseekers were scared to go after? She cursed her own curiosity and immediately went to see who or what this being was. A distraction, she thought, to take the edge off. To meet a fellow Mage, and one that didn't fear the strict anti-magic sentiment the kingdom held for their kind at that! Lux was ecstatic...

It took her the full afternoon to find the little hut. A pretty, ramshackled thing. One story, made of what looked like straw and some gleaming bits of metal on the frames, like it had been cobbled together by someone who CLEARLY didn't know anything about architecture. She found it quaint. Cute.

And then, the next thing she knew, there was a sound, like a giggle, and she was hanging upside-down. She felt her foot hit something metallic right before... A trap, obviously. "The Mageseekers fear this woman. Why would there NOT be traps?", she thought, feeling the blood rush to her brain.

And then there was another sound, a soft click and then a hum, like a very large bug taking flight, followed by a voice that put her on edge immediately.

"Don't you know it's dangerous to wander the woods at night...?"

Oh, there was some CATSCRATCH in that voice. Lux felt her hands growing hotter by the second. If she lit up now...

"So, tell me. What's the name of the person who seeks me out today? And what is it you want? Curse a family? An enemy? A glimpse into the future?" The voice was getting louder and closer, the humming as well... "Not now." Lux thought. "PLEASE, not now!"

The figure came closer, finally moving around so Lux could get a clear look at her. "'Cause I'm warning you. I'm not that kind of Witch".

She was hooded, with a strange, cape-like jacket that looked like it had teeth on the top rim of her hood. A falling shock of blue hair made it look like her hoodie was sticking out its tongue at her. She was also really pale, and she had these... Unnerving eyes. Not purple, no. Violet. That was the color. She was also holding the source of the humming: A little metal contraption, with what looked like a trigger, like a crossbow, and a glass... cage? that hummed melodically and glowed blue, so that her face was lit up by it.

A twitch in her facial features assured Lux of one thing: This woman could only be who she had been looking for. She looked like someone who didn't care what the Mageseekers, if anyone, thought or tried.

"Isha the Witch?", Lux asked. A dumb question, she though, like it wasn't obvious. "My name is Luxanna Crownguard. I mean you absolutely no harm, but I need you to let me down from here!"

At the mention of the name, she seemed to twitch again. A sarcastic, half-cocked smile that didn't reach her eyes formed for a second.

"Crownguard? Ha! I did not know my humble abode warranted the presence of nobles!" She did a very exaggerated and sarcastic bow as she said this and a long braid fell from under her hood with a light thud against the forest floor. "I was convinced people were too chicken to try to come push me out... Is that why you're here?"

At that last line, her voice changed. No longer mocking, but dead serious. She was dangerously close now, the little humming device pressed up against Lux's forehead, hanging lazily from Isha's hand. She was getting nervous... Too nervous. Keep it in check, keep it in check, keep it in check...!

"Please, no, I have no desire to hurt you! That's not why I'm here! I-I just got curious! I swear, please let me down, I'm begging you! I don't want to hurt you!" She was squirming against the trap now. Isha thought she looked like a very enthusiastic fish outta water.

"You don't want to hurt me?" Isha said. The catscratch was back... Was she enjoying this? "It's cute that you think you could."

"LET ME DOWN NOW!" Lux demanded.

Too late.

Like it always did, it started with her hands. She felt the light come through like the warm summer sun. In any other situation, the sensation might have been comforting. Not like this. The feeling moved up her torso, down her legs, the glow penetrating every fiber of her being until her eyes, her hair, her entire self was a glowing, resplandecent, magical sign that said "Mage here! Come imprison me!" in big, bold letters... The Witch got half a "What the fu-" out before Lux couldn't hold on any longer

The light burst forth, blasting from her body, breaking the wires of the snare trap she found herself in, blasting Isha away and dropping Lux on the ground. She heard the scream the Witch let out and immediately started to concentrate again. Breathe, Luxanna, BREATHE! Dim down, dim down!

Until, eventually, almost as quickly as it had come, the light was gone.

She saw Isha with her hands on her eyes. Twisting on the floor, a second braid now fallen from her hood. The weirdest part was that Lux couldn't tell if the woman was in pain or if she was... Gods, was she giggling?! Lux suddenly felt REALLY uncomfortable.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! I swear I didn't mean to hurt you! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Lux crawled to her and sure enough, she was giggling. Like the initial scream of pain had given way to some twisted joke she found absolutely hilarious...

Isha sat up as she slowly regained her sight, the first thing she saw were Lux's huge baby-blue eyes staring at her. She looked close to tears, the poor thing!

"Damn, Flashlight!" Isha's scratchy voice said, maybe a little too loud, between giggles. "I stand corrected! You pack a punch!"

"You're not... Hurt?"

"Oh, it stings like a BITCH!" She wheezed. "But the joke of it all is so much more entertaining... A Mage noble? In DEMACIA?! Who ever heard of THAT before?"

Every single danger warning in Lux's body went off at once. She knew now. She couldn't know! She couldn't let anyone know! This could kill her. It could kill her whole family! Her brother knew, and that was problem enough! This could-

The Witch spoke again. "Alright. I'm too curious now. Come inside, girlie, let's see what ails you." Mockingly, that last line was spoken, and lazily, like a ragdoll, the witch of the woods got up.

"You can't tell anyone! Not a SOUL can know! Please, miss Isha, I know I have no right but you must understand! If someone were to find out...!"

The Witch turned on her heel, and curved a finger towards the young Mage. Then she walked towards her ramshackle hut and opened the door...

"Trust me, Flashlight. I won't tell anyone. Besides, if YOU got made, that probably means people wouldn't leave me alone for not bringing you in, right? Come on. I don't get a lot of visitors and you're not a baby or anything, so I promise not to eat you. Mind the traps! There's like three more on the ground over there."

Lux saw the logic in it... And besides, if she ratted her out, she'd be screwed as well, right? She could afford to be welcoming. Isha held all the cards... And Lux supposed, if the absolute worst outcome happened, she could just let go and incinerate the hut and the witch with it, but she really hoped it didn't come to that.

She made her way, carefully avoiding the traps laid out in front of her, now uncovered by the blast. She wondered how Isha could hide them so well while they were painted with such vibrant colors... She made it to the door.

"Come in, come in!" Said the witch, gently tapping Lux's shoulder inside, like they were friends or something. "Tell me everything!"

Jinx had left for Demacia so no more magic could hurt her. So she could be at peace knowing no HexTech or any other insane, arcane invention could put her in danger. She'd left to be safe. She'd left to be left alone...

But now? She had that buzz between her ears again... And something told her that she was about to have a lot of fun with this one.

[tripleglitchwriting]

Ignition (Part 2)

GN human reader, Ratchet-centric

CW: Graphic injury, getting burned by water, unintentional fearplay, mild language, a solid block of angst, referring to a person as “it” (unintentionally)

You’d made pretty good time all things considered. The lightheadedness and constant nausea were a mere annoyance now. You were going to find where that noise came from and you were going to get help and you were going to survive this. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Trying to get places with a broken leg and a dwindling supply of adrenaline was not your best idea. To be fair, neither was agreeing to go on a hike alone in an unfamiliar forest. For hours you clawed your way through the leaf padded forest floor (thank god for autumn), but as the sun began to set a familiar sense of dread crept into your psyche.

You could die here.

Keyword: Could. You’re too stubborn to sit in place and wait for a rescue or call for help in dense, unpopulated woods. Bursts of perseverance refused to let you lay down. Not long after your thirteenth short spout of energy, you began to regret your bullheaded pursuit. Not because you were tired or losing hope, but because you may have just found what you were looking for. And it was fucking huge. At least that’s what you could tell from the earth splitting footsteps and overarching shadow beginning to cast itself over you.

The thing towered above your already crumpled body. It didn’t even seem to notice you at first… until you involuntarily screamed very, very loudly. Then it looked directly at you. Shit.

Bright blue lights beamed down at you like the sun through a stained glass window. Not like a beautiful sunset, of course not, it was like the kind of light that blinded you and only you when you went to sit down. Its eyes alone pinned you in place, but once you regained your vision its face came into view. A realization came to mind, it was decidedly not a giant. That would be too easy. It was a giant ROBOT. Because normal mystical creatures were apparently too last century so you were stuck with this. And all that adrenaline you had so badly needed earlier came flooding back.

First, you screamed again. Then, in your frenzy, you tired to run away, immediately remembering why you hadn’t done so before. You kept trying though, and you kept failing. Its hand, which was bigger than your entire body, began to descend down on you. Before it could get halfway though, a very helpful bought of more screaming and one-legged kicking seemed to deter it. Good news! You weren’t dead. Bad news! It was making awful metal grinding noises now.

You could feel your heart pick up in speed and your breathing quicken to dangerous levels. Attempting to back away again you noticed its face scrunch up into a weird shape which was not what you expected for something made out of metal.

Inside you something snapped when it reached out again. Some primal fear ignited by pain and panic. More screaming lurched its way out of you, this time with an animalistic undertone you didn’t even know was possible. You tried to claw and fight against its fingers as they eased their way under your back, but they were too strong. Or you were too weak. Either way, the thing was lifting you up, images of kids with dolls flashed in your mind as you got closer to its face. You felt scrutinized, but it didn’t last long as another hand was placed on top of the one you laid on, sealing your fate in darkness.

Well, at least if you survive you’ll have one hell of a story to tell. Unfortunately that didn’t seem very likely, because you felt gravity abandon you as the thing walked away.

——————————

Ratchet felt horrible about the way it struggled and cried, but there wasn’t much he could do for comfort. He just needed to get back to the pod, maybe he could find some sort of anti-bacterial spray or something to seal the wounds, maybe a splint for that limb. Pit, he’d even just take some fresh water to clean it up.

Thing is he didn’t know much about treating organics, especially not ones he was unfamiliar with. In this case “unfamiliar” was putting it lightly. Eventually he stumbled back upon the pod, immediately looking around for something to help. There didn’t seem to be anything of much use, not if these things couldn’t withstand intense welding, and he highly doubted they could.

Quickly he looked back at his scans. There was some sort of water source nearby, if he could purify it maybe he could at least wash out its injuries. With no other option he strode off toward a small creek. He took a medical blowtorch with him to kill off any harmful bacteria that might be in the water.

Once there he got to work. Well, he would have if he had the hands for it. Very carefully he set the thing down on the ground, creating a quick storage container out of scrap from the ship and his blowtorch. Soon after the water was boiling, and he was ready.

The thing, in fact, was not ready. As evident by the painted screams it let out when he tried to wash out the wounds. He would just ignore this as more struggling, but its skin turned a shade of pink where the water had touched it.

Of course, the heat! This thing didn’t have the metal to protect its squishy body, he was burning it! Luckily he hadn’t done much, only a drop of the water really. Ratchet got to cooling the liquid off immediately, but when he went back to check on the thing its little optics were closed and it wasn’t moving. Frag, frag, frag. He did a scan of its body- and to his intense relief it was only unconscious. He had a lot to learn about this species, but for now he’d have to focus on making sure this one didn’t offline.

Some time later it looked a bit better- at least with all that grime off. He didn’t remove the coverings it wore, for all he knew that could offline it. Though, he did scan the things skeletal structure. It was… strange, and honestly quite impractical. Its denta showed it was most likely an omnivore, which would be helpful in getting it refueled later. The back molars were flat yet it still had sharp incisors, Wheeljack would be enamored. But Wheeljack wasn’t here, he remembered, and neither was anyone else he had ever known.

His spark dropped, but was subsequently interrupted by the things stirring. Its optics opened in a dazed confusion, at least that’s what he assumed anyway. Scrap, he hadn’t had the time to make a splint! When it fully woke up it seemed awfully aware of that fact, again attempting to move away but falling back all the same. He realized words weren’t going to help, so maybe actions would.

Ratchet knelt down lower to make himself look smaller- a behavior he’d observed in other wild creatures. He was a bit disappointed by the lack of a positive reaction but soon caught it glancing at his servos. It must not want to be grabbed again, and he couldn’t blame the thing for it. He only raised his servos up slowly with open palms, and placed them behind his back. This seemed to get a reaction, as it stopped trying to back away. Instead it tilted its helm and finally tore its optics off him.

It looked down at itself, noticing the lack of dirt and red energon. If its expressions were to be compared to that of a cybertronian, he’d say its face softened. It looked up at him again, still very hesitant but progress had been made. And right now, progress was all he could ask for.

[ex-dyke-straight-girl]

Welcome to Harmony Vale

The town of Harmony Vale sat nestled in a serene valley, its pastel-painted houses reflecting sunlight like pearls under an endless blue sky. Birds sang year-round, children laughed in immaculate parks, and neighbors greeted one another with wide, genuine smiles. It was a utopia, a place where anger, discontent, and bitterness didn’t seem to exist.

Everyone knew the truth: this perfection was carefully cultivated.

At the center of Harmony Vale stood the Equinox Chamber, a sleek, cylindrical building of glass and steel, and the heart of the town’s transformation process. Within its walls lay the Harmony Process, a procedure that reshaped its applicants in both body and mind.

It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t hidden. The volunteers came willingly, after years on the waiting list, drawn to the promise of a perfect life, Free of their worst flaws and imbued with kindness, patience, and beauty. They would still be themselves, but better.

“This is it,” said Claire, standing beside Ethan at the Chamber’s entrance. They were young, both in their mid-twenties, and both had waited nearly three years for their turn.

Claire glanced nervously at her reflection in the polished door. She brushed her hand through her chestnut hair, her eyes flicking to Ethan. “How do you think we’ll look? You think you’ll still recognize me?”

Ethan grinned, slipping his hand into hers. “Of course. You’ll still be Claire. You’ll just be… more Claire. Perfect Claire.”

That was the promise, after all. The Process didn’t erase memories or rewrite identities. People still loved the same things, had the same passions and talents.

But the Chamber reached deep into the mind and body, like a master sculptor sanding away sharp edges and imperfections: anger, stubbornness, jealousy, insecurity. Every anti-social behavior or intrusive thought smoothed away. The body, too, was perfected, healthier, fitter, a vision of natural beauty. And all of it consensual.

“You’re not nervous?” Claire asked.

Ethan hesitated, but only for a moment. “Of course I am. But we’re doing this for us, right? You’ve said it yourself: no more stupid fights. No more self-doubt. We’ll be happy. Isn’t that what matters?”

She smiled softly and squeezed his hand. “Yeah. Happy.”

A guide greeted them in the Chamber’s lobby. She wore a lavender dress that matched her serene expression and spoke with the practiced calm of someone who had long shed the weight of discontent. Her name tag read Madeline.

“Welcome to your first day of Harmony,” Madeline said warmly. “You’ll enter the Chamber separately, but the results will speak for themselves. Remember, the Process only enhances what’s already there. You’ll feel lighter. Freer. It’s like meeting your best self, and you deserve that.”

Claire swallowed hard as Madeline led them down a gleaming hallway to a set of doors. Claire’s to the left, Ethan’s to the right.

“See you soon,” Ethan said softly, giving Claire’s hand one final squeeze.

Inside her room, Claire found the machine, a reclining chair beneath a halo of soft, golden light. Screens projected words around the room: peace, love, kindness, trust. She could hear faint music — a soothing hum that felt like a lullaby. Her nerves began to ease. She lay down and closed her eyes.

The machine purred to life. A voice, soft and warm, whispered inside her head.

“Claire Thompson. You have chosen Harmony.”

Colors swirled behind her eyelids, soft greens and blues, melting into one another. She felt a warmth spreading through her chest, a sense of deep release, as if someone were gently lifting heavy weights from her soul.

The voice continued. “We will nurture your kindness. We will soothe your anxieties. Your patience, your love, your joy. These will flourish. The burdens you carry, resentment, fear, anger will no longer trouble you. You will be free.”

For a moment, Claire thought of her flaws, the sharp words spoken in arguments, the way she let jealousy twist her stomach, the nights spent crying over her imperfections.

And then… they were gone. Like whispers carried away by the wind.

She felt herself smiling.

Hours later, Claire stood outside the Chamber with Ethan. They looked at each other in awe.

Claire’s features were softer now, her skin smooth and glowing, her posture poised yet relaxed. Ethan’s shoulders were broader, his face more symmetrical, his eyes clear and bright. And yet, they were undeniably themselves.

Ethan smiled at her, tears glistening in his eyes. “You’re beautiful.” Claire touched his cheek, a bubbling joy rising within her. She could feel the love she’d always had for him, only now it was unclouded.

Pure.

“So are you,” she said softly.

They walked hand-in-hand out of the Chamber, greeted by cheers from the town. Friends they hadn’t met yet waved to them from immaculate lawns. Somewhere in the distance, music played.

A plaque at the edge of the square caught Claire’s eye. It read:

“In Harmony Vale, we become who we were always meant to be.”

Claire breathed in the fragrant air of the valley. For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel the heaviness of her flaws weighing her down. There were no dark whispers in her mind. No fear of the future.

She looked at Ethan and smiled.

“Welcome home,” he said.

And in that perfect town, under that perfect sky, Claire knew he was right.