#at least they think they got it all figured out

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

au where pretty much all of gotham knows damn well bruce wayne's small army of children are also the assorted bat and bird themed vigilantes around town (considering they barely cover their faces and their ages, races, heights, and timelines all line up perfectly lmao) BUT. they still think bruce is just their resident sadboy beloved princess like no way he's batman. he's a soaking wet premie kitten of a man. if you raise your voice around him he'd probably startle like a baby deer. one time I bumped into bruce wayne on the street and both of our briefcases spilled open everywhere when we fell and he teared up and gave me his wallet while apologizing for being too lost in his own thoughts. one time I accidentally poured hot soup in his lap at a gala and he just said "thank you😔". he's just a little guy he's depressed and his rowdy-ass kids sap up all the little energy he has so OBVIOUSLY he's not batman. and like this open secret becomes a whole debate about whether or not he knows his kids are doing this, and whether or not someone should tell him about it. like on one hand yeah they're doing great things for the city. but hasn't that poor guy been through ENOUGH? can he handle the stress of knowing his babies are risking their lives? would he make them stop, or does he already know and allows it? he doesn't seem that irresponsible of a parent tho! would he feel pride or horror if he knew they became the type of person he (and his parents) needed when he was younger? for the most part, people leave them to it, seeing as most of the wayne kids are adults anyway, but every now and then little damian saves some older ladies just for them to end up yelling at him about how his daddy has a poor constitution and his heart will give out from all the stress (and he's just gotta stand there like 😡😡😡😡😡 because arguing would essentially be confirming his identity and he Cannot be the one to fuck that up first. there's a betting pool. he Needs tim to be the one who loses.) bruce is completely oblivious to this except for sometimes when he's out as batman people will be like "you're a monster for letting these kids fight crime its so irresponsible" and he's just like "yeah I know but if I don't give them an outlet they'd probably destroy the city themselves🙄" and the citizens are like flashing back to the bruce wayne birthday bash incident of 2019 that ended with a city block in flames, half the kids in jail and bruce checking himself into one of those fake rehabs rich people go to when they need to escape the stress of being rich and an 8 year old acting as ceo for wayne enterprises for two months before the 8 year got accused of war profiteering so bruce had to check out of the rehab early. and they're like "okay yeah that's fair" and figure maybe gotham's sweetest son bruce is at least getting a good night sleep in a quiet mansion while his beloved yet terrible children are burning off energy beating people up all night

[mariasont]

Murphy's Law - A.H

summary: you have spent your whole life thinking love was something that could be lost. Aaron has spent his whole life proving that the things worth fighting for don't go anywhere.

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: some angsty angst, self sabatoge, emotional vulnerability, miscommunication, self worth issues, hotch knows you better than you know yourself, hurt/comfort, happy ending ish

wc: 1.7k

You were staring at the liquid swirl in your glass, watching the way the light bent through it, like if you stared long enough, you could disappear into it, dissolve into it completely. It was sweating against your palm, ice melting, thinning, becoming something less than it was before. 

You were exhausted—an exhaustion that permeated your very bones and soul—moving into places you were certain sleep couldn't reach nor fix.

The case had been brutal and unfortunately for everyone involved, it was the type of case that didn't end just because the paperwork was filed. And you'd done what you always did when it got to be too much, you'd picked a fight with the only person who never fought back.

It was practically muscle memory by now, the way you pushed, the way you tested him, the way you all but begged for him to get tired of you. You took a sip and let yourself wonder if this was the time he finally did.

The whiskey tasted awful. You scrunched your nose at the aftertaste, the way it coated your tongue with something sharp and unforgiving. But you swallowed it anyway. It was his drink, and maybe you deserved the bitterness. Maybe you deserved the way it burned on the way down, the way it sunk heavy in your stomach. If he was tired of you, if this was the night you finally ruined it, then at least you could feel what he felt—at least you could know what it was like to choke down something that wasn't meant for you.

You could never figure out why he was with you, could never make sense of it, could never understand what he saw when he looked at you. Because all you could see were the cracks, the flaws, the thousands of ways you weren't enough. And Aaron? He was steady. He was level-headed, patient, impossibly good, and you were a mess of emotions. You were impulse and self-destruction, always bracing for impact.

You were temporary. And Aaron was the kind of man who deserved something permanent.

You felt him before you saw him. Of course he was here. Of course he came looking for you. You swallowed another sip of the whiskey and let the burn dissipate through your chest before he even had the chance to speak.

"You didn't want to go home."

It wasn't angry or accusatory. That made it worse. You didn't turn to face him, instead you rolled the glass between shaky fingers and let out a bitter laugh.

"What, am I in trouble?"

The second the words left your mouth, you hated them. Hated yourself. You weren't trying to pick another fight, weren't trying to make things worse. But it was like your body was moving before you mind could stop it, like some sick part of yourself wanted to see how much more you could destroy before the night was over.

Hotch sighed, pulled out the stool beside you and sat without a word. He didn't push, didn't ask, didn't even look at you right away. Instead, he reached across the bar, tapping his fingers twice against the counter.

"Water."

The bartender nodded, setting down a glass in front of him. He slid it toward you without a second thought, like this was something they'd done a thousand times before.

Which you had.

But before, you had been soft for each other. Before, the drinks had been sweet, your laughter even sweeter, your hands weaving in his tie as you pulled him down for a slow, unhurried kiss. Before, he'd touched your waist, guiding you toward him before giving you a water and whispering something against your temple like, you're trouble. And you'd grin, because you knew he didn't mean it, not really—not when he was the one who always indulged you, who always let you be trouble, who always looked at you like you were something precious.

Now, the gesture was the same, but everything around it had changed. Now, it wasn't about taking care of you at the end of a good night. It was the same notion, stripped of everything that used to make it feel like love.

"Thanks," you murmured. You took the glass, but you didn't lift it, didn't take a sip, just dragged a fingertip through the moisture, watching as it smeared beneath your touch.

And then you made the mistake of looking at him.

He looked wrecked. And not just tired, but more than that. Worn down in a way that had nothing to do with sleep and everything to do with you. You were the same in that way. His jaw was tight, and his eyes lingered on you like he was searching for something—something he wasn't sure he'd find. He looked worried, and worse—so much worse—he looked hurt.

And that made everything burn. It made your vision blur at the edges.

You looked back down at your drink before you could embarrass yourself further, before the sting behind your eyes could turn into something real.

He rubbed a hand over his jaw. "You look like you're waiting for me to give up."

"Do I?"

It was weak and too quick. Flimsy and transparent. A question with a question. A classic misdirection, the kind of thing you had both watched suspects do a thousand times when they were caught, when the truth was too ugly to face head-on.

"When people are afraid of loss, they do one of two things," Aaron said and you could feel his eyes on you. "They cling to what they have, or they push it away before it can leave on its own."

You looked at him.

"You've already decided this won't last, so you're doing everything in your power to make that true. But the problem is—," he leaned in slightly and you could see the freckle under his eye clearly now, "you're treating your fear like a fact."

Your gaze flickered over his face, mapping out every detail like a blueprint. The tiny scar on his chin that you'd never asked him about, the exact shade of his eyes, the way his nose tilted just slightly at the bridge.

You wanted to memorize it all, because someday, this would be all you have left.

When he was gone—because he would leave, it was only a matter of when—you didn't want to rely on pictures. You wanted to close your eyes and see him, clear as he was now. Every part of him. Even the parts he didn't realize you noticed.

His voice was softer now, almost pleading. "Talk to me, sweetheart."

"Stop being so nice to me!"

The words came out choked, tears stinging at your eyes before you could blink them away. You dug your nails into your palm, trying to get something under your control, but it was slipping through your fingers like everything else.

"You're going to get tired of me. You're going to wake up one day and realize I'm not worth it and—and you should. You should yell at me, you should tell me I'm too much, you should—," The tears spilled over now and you hated how blurry he looked. "Fight back, Aaron. Please just—just stop pretending like I deserve this, like I deserve you."

Hotch inhaled sharply, then stood, reaching for his wallet. He placed the bill on the counter—too much, but he wasn't about to wait for change—before finally turning back to you.

"Let's get some air."

You hiccupped, the sound breaking awkwardly in your throat, and you blinked hard. Everything felt like too much, your muscles too tight, your face too hot, the tears still falling despite your best efforts. You rubbed at your face with back of your hand, nodding, because you didn't trust yourself to speak.

You stood and glanced around for your coat and before you could even realize you didn't bring one, Aaron was already moving.

"Arms in," he said, slipping his jacket around you, his fingers barely skimming your shoulders.

He didn't give you a moment to process it. He just started guiding you to the door, like he already knew you wouldn't stop him.

The night air didn't bite the way you expected. It should have shocked you awake, made you shiver, but it didn't. You barely felt it.

Your body felt off, warmth thrummed through your limbs in way that you feel unsteady. You swayed slightly, and Aaron's hand came to hover near your waist, not quite touching, but waiting. Just in case.

He was frowning at you.

So, instinctively, you frowned back.

"You're acting like I don't know what I signed up for." You opened your mouth to argue but Aaron stepped closer before you could even form the words. "I know what I signed up for because I know you."

His eyes didn't leave yours.

"I know you overthink every single text before you send it. I know that when you're anxious you chew on the inside of your cheek until it's raw. I know you order the same three things at a restaurant because too many choices stress you out, and I know you hate when the cabinets in the kitchen are left open, even by an inch."

He took another step.

"I know you cry at commercials but try to hide it. I know that when you're upset, you don't want comfort, but you need it. I know that you think needing people makes you weak."

"But I also know you are smart and kind and stubborn as hell. I know that I love you in a way that is reckless and absolute. And I know—," he exhaled, standing so close his breath was mingling with yours. "that you are worth every single argument it's going to take to convince you of that."

It was too much. The way he knew you. The way he saw you. The way he spoke like loving you was a fact, an inevitability, something that could not be argued or undone.

A sharp breath shuttered from your lips, your whole body tightening like you could hold it all in.

But you couldn't. Because your chest ached. Your hands ached. Your heart ached. Your whole body felt like it belonged to him in a way you didn't know how to put into words.

So you did the only thing you could do. You closed the miniscule distance between you, your fingers grasping onto the front of his coat, pulling, holding, needing.

Because you didn't know how to say I love you so much it physically hurts me.

But maybe, if you pressed close enough, he would feel it.

taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[heliosunny]

Hello! I was curious what your take on the Amphoreus men’s reactions would be to a sick or even injured reader? I had bad nausea and a migraine today, bedridden and all, (but I’m better now!) and I fear if I was their darling they’d think I’m pregnant or something dumb like that 😂

Wishing you a lovely day! Thank you for sharing your writings ❤️

I'm sick atm so Imma answer this. Glad to hear u got better.

When you're sick

🌿 Anaxa

At first, he's simply observing. He doesn't react strongly, but his mind is already working to figure out what’s wrong.

(Watching you struggle to sit up, his eyes gleaming with amusement at first.)

Anaxa: “How fascinating. Your skin is warmer than usual, your pupils slightly dilated… Could it be a poison? Did someone poison you? Or perhaps a parasite? I do wonder.”

Anaxa is unsettlingly calm as he begins testing different treatments on you (you poor thing). You say it’s just a cold? He doesn’t believe you.

(You groan, insisting it’s just a cold. He hums, unconvinced, swirling a dark liquid in a glass.)

Anaxa: “Drink this. It may cure you, or at the very least, give me something new to analyze.”

(He scares you, but he only wants the best for you. Such hypocrite.)

Pregnancy thought? Unlikely. He’s too logical for that, he's looking for tangible symptoms. However, if he does think it, it’s because he wants to study the changes in your body up close.

(You woke up just to see his hand already inspecting your stomach.)

Anaxa: “We managed to put a baby in here huh. Don't you move, I'll take very good care of you.”

(You pushed him away soon after and refused to drink or eat anything from him.)

🐶 Phainon

His smile starts to fade when he heard the news. You have a minor fever?

(He barges into the room)

Phainon: “You're going to die? Don't leave me! I can't bear the thought of living all alone...”

(Lays you in bed dramatically like you’re on your deathbed.)

If you say it’s just a cold, he’ll be offended and insist that you need “proper royal treatment.”

(He tucked you in so tight you can't even move.)

Phainon: “I always know that you're not as strong as me, but I didn't expect you to be sick. I will feed you, every day, don't worry.”

Pregnancy thought? that’s not possible… unless…

(You tell him to calm down, but he ignores you, crouching beside your bed with a look of pure anguish.)

Phainon: “What if it’s something deadly? What if *gasp you’re with child?!? Whose? Mine?”

(You choke on your own saliva at his ridiculous assumption.)

Phainon: “Stay right here, I’ll summon someone immediately!”

(He rushes out before you can protest. You are doomed.)

🦁Mydei

At first, he just watches you suspiciously. When he realizes it’s real, he softens… a little.

He doesn’t fuss, but he becomes overbearing in a quiet way. He forces you to rest, doesn’t let you lift a single finger.

(Arms crossed, standing near the door, eyes narrowed as he watches you weakly sip your drink.)

Mydei: “If you’re too weak to hold a cup properly, you shouldn’t be holding it at all.”

(You glare at him, muttering that you can take care of yourself.)

Mydei: “Clearly.” (Sarcastic. He takes the cup from your hands and forces you to lie down.) “Rest.”

If you get worse, he just picks you up and hauls you off to a doctor, no questions asked.

He’ll be stubbornly glued to your side until you’re better.

Pregnancy thought? The possibility crosses his mind, but he immediately throws it out because he would’ve known if anything like that was possible.

When you're injured

🌿 Anaxa

He is completely unfazed. Even if you’re bleeding out, he will only act calm and professional while getting out his medical tools.

(Kneeling beside you, observing the wound with a calm, almost clinical expression.)

Anaxa: “Hm. A deep cut. The bleeding is slowing, but the damage is substantial.”

You swear he’s a doctor with how efficiently he patches you up—but he makes little effort to comfort you. Rather, he finds it interesting to mess with you.

(You wince as he prods at the wound. He doesn’t even warn you.)

Anaxa: “I expected better. Letting yourself get hurt like this… Have you always been so careless?”

(You glare at him.)

Anaxa: “Oh, don’t look at me like that. This is your own fault, after all. Still, if I find out someone else dares hurt you... nevermind.”

🐶Phainon

Trying to hold back his anger, won't let it shows in front of you. You can only see his good side.

(His entire body is tense as he kneels beside you, gripping his sword so hard his knuckles turn white.)

Phainon: “Who did this?”

(You try to downplay it, but his eyes still burning with fury.)

Once he’s calmed down, he scoops you up and takes you to the best healer available.

He’s genuinely shaken up by it and might get overly protective afterward. Even minor scrapes will have him wrapping you up in bandages like a mummy.

Phainon: “And once you’re healed, you are never leaving my sight again. I won’t allow it.”

🦁Mydei

He’s surprisingly calm when he sees you’re injured, but it’s the eerie kind of calm. He’s not saying much, but the rage is there.

He doesn’t panic, he assesses your wound like a warrior, checking the severity before deciding what to do.

(He crouches beside you, examining the wound with an eerily quiet intensity.)

Mydei: “You’re bleeding.”

(You bite back a sarcastic remark. He rips off a piece of his sleeve, pressing it against the wound with firm but careful hands.)

Mydei: “Does it hurt?”

(You hesitate. He looks at you, his sharp gaze unyielding.)

Mydei: “Good. Remember it.”

Two priorities:

Getting you treated.

Finding whoever did this and destroying them.

No more fights. No more risks. You are staying where he can see you.

(He finishes bandaging the wound, then stands, offering you his hand.)

Mydei: “Come. You’re not walking alone.”

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Regret |5|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Rader

Summary: You were living in New York with your girlfriend, trying to forget about last year and just enjoy life, but that was easier said than done. (Sequel to A Legacies Secret)

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 2.9k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | A Legacies Secret Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The entire car ride you couldn’t help but think about what just happened. You didn’t have a problem with Tara punching Gale, you honestly enjoyed that and were even glad it happened in front of an audience and cameras. That had been the first time you had seen Gale in months, and she didn’t even so much as look at you. You couldn’t blame her, you were the one that told her you wanted nothing to do with her, if anything she was doing exactly as you asked.

You weren’t sure how much Tara knew, you didn’t like to talk about it, but Gale did try after the attacks last year. She almost seemed desperate with how much she was trying to be in your life last year. She wasn’t good at it, it was abundantly clear she had no idea what she was doing, not that you knew what you were doing either, the two of you were in uncharted waters, you figured it was best to just pretend nothing ever happened and everything could go back to normal.

One of the times she reached out you mentioned moving to New York. She had offered to get you an apartment, you, Tara, and Sam, which, considering how expensive New York was, was incredibly generous of her but you turned her down. You and Sam were managing the rent just fine on your own, you didn’t want to feel like you owed Gale for anything, not when she had done nothing for you before. You really only told her about moving because you knew she lived there and figured if she knew it would be easier to avoid each other.

The only time you reached out to her was when her book came out. You never saw Tara reading it, but you and Sam certainly did. Sam was painted in a much worse light than you and the book only fueled the online hate Sam was getting. Confronting Gale about the book was also the last time you saw her, at least before just outside the police station. You went off on her and she just took it, the last thing you told her was to stay the fuck out of your life. Gale had just nodded and handed you a present, as if that would make up for anything she’d done, she never even apologized for what she wrote. Still, despite your issues with her you kept the present, it was tucked safely under yours and Tara’s bed, though you keeping it wasn’t for sentimental reasons.

Before you knew it the cab came to a stop, dropping the three of you off in front of Blackmore University. After your conversation the ride had been rather silent, allowing you to get so lost in your mind. You tried to keep your leg as straight as possible; the bodega really did a number on it. When you ran into Ghostface again you hoped you wouldn’t have to be crawling around on the floor again.

Sam’s phone dinged almost instantly with a text from Mindy telling her where they were waiting. Apparently, you, Tara, and Sam were the only ones they were waiting on, everyone else was already there. You tried not to let the dread of going over suspects get to you. Last time, you didn’t even want to go, but you did, and then you got accused of attacking your girlfriend.

Amber had been the one to accuse you, she had been throwing all the accusations and trying to get a reaction out of you. Mindy had joined in though, agreeing with Amber on pretty much every front. Chad didn’t accuse you like Mindy did, but he certainly didn’t defend you, besides Tara, the only person who didn’t seem to think the worst of you was Liv, who was dead now.

You walked the familiar path to the courtyard where you saw the others waiting on a couple of benches. You had been on the campus plenty of times, Tara had actually given you a tour of the entire place after her first week of classes. It was a nice campus, you could see why Tara had been so excited to come, besides the classes of course. You had even eaten at a couple of the restaurants on campus when you met Tara for lunch, there was even a really nice coffee shop you and Tara stopped at one morning when you walked her to class, that had the most delicious muffins you had ever had.

You held in a sigh as you got closer to the group. Quinn, Anika, and Ethan were on one bench while Chad was sitting on another, and Mindy was already standing in front of everyone, ready to deliver what speech she definitely already had planned.

“Finally!” Mindy groaned when she caught sight of the three of you approaching.

Chad hopped up off the bench and decided to lean against the stone wall that was behind the two benches, allowing you, Sam, and Tara to share the now vacant bench. You didn’t realize you were tapping your finger until Tara linked her hand with yours, giving it a tight squeeze. You glanced over at her and smiled, trying to show her just how much comfort her being there brought you, things were already better than last year, even if they all accused you of murder again.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Sam said.

“Love the enthusiasm Sam,” Mindy deadpanned. “It’s not like I’m about to reveal the potential killers or anything!”

Chad raised a hand, holding his pen up high. You raised an eyebrow at that, it seemed he intended to take notes on whatever his sister was about to ramble on about. You honestly admired the commitment, but you weren’t sure when exactly he, or any of you, would have time to go over the notes. It wasn’t like he could run over and reference his notebook in the midst of Ghostface trying to kill all of you.

“You got it wrong last time,” Chad pointed out.

Mindy narrowed her eyes at that. “I’ll admit,” she said, holding up one of her hands as if she were confessing something. “Mistakes were made.” You gave her an unamused look, that was certainly one way to put it. “But I know what to expect this time!”

“And what’s that?” Sam asked, crossing her arms.

“The unexpected!” Mindy held her hands out wide while all of you just looked at her with confusion.

“So,” Tara said slowly, adjusting in her seat slightly so she was leaning a little closer to you. “We need to expect the unexpected?”

“Yes!” Mindy smiled brightly.

“Is this normal for her?” Quinn whispered but it was loud enough for the whole group to hear. Chad nodded, though he seemed ashamed to do so. Quinn let out a hiss and her eyes widened at she leaned back. “No wonder you didn’t figure it out last time.”

“We’re in franchise people!” Mindy ignored Quinn’s comment, forcing everyone’s attention back on herself. “Throw the rules out the window,” she made a throwing motion with her hands. “Everything is unpredictable! It’s bigger! It’s badder! Everyone is on the chopping block this time! Even Sam and Tara!” She pointed at the two sisters.

Your eyes narrowed at Mindy, even if she wasn’t threatening her, you didn’t like the suggestion that someone could hurt Tara. You didn’t care who this Ghostface was or how much training they had, you refused to let Tara get even so much as a scratch this time around.

“That means we’re most certainly dead,” Mindy said, pointed at herself and Chad. Chads mouth fell open, and he looked around as if he expected someone to disagree with her. “But let’s get to what’s important!” Mindy clapped her hands.

“My death isn’t important?” Chad asked.

“Suspects!” Mindy completely ignored her brother. “First! We have-”

“Let me guess,” you interrupted. “Me?” You figured getting it out of the way was better, especially if Mindy ended on accusing some of the others.

“Actually, no!” You raised your eyebrows at that, you wondered if your ears were messed up from all the shooting the previous night. “But only because you’re top of the kill list this time.”

You frowned. “Mindy!” Tara snapped.

“It’s nothing personal,” Mindy waved Tara off. It sure felt personal, you didn’t know how being at the top of the kill list wasn’t personal. “They’re the love interest!” Mindy gestured at you and Tara as if to prove her point. “Box one checked! They’re a child of legacy characters! Box two checked!” You crossed your arms, you remembered from last year how being Dewey and Gales kid put more of a target on your back. “And…” Mindy glanced at you as if she felt bad for what she would say next. “They were the prime suspect last year.” You felt Tara squeeze your hand, it made you instantly unclench your jaw, you hadn’t realized you were doing that. “Kill off the one who was framed and suspected last time.”

“Like Cotton!” Chad added, quickly scribbling something down in his notebook. When Chad looked up, he was met by everyone’s glare. “What? Is that not right?” He flipped through a couple pages of his notebook, as if they would hold the answer.

“No, it’s right,” Mindy admitted. “Cotton was falsely accused for killing Maureen Prescott, then when he was exonerated, he was framed by Mrs. Loomis and Mickey, only to be the opening kill for Roman.”

“Great,” you mumbled. You weren’t sure if being at the top of the kill list was better than being the prime suspect. You certainly didn’t want to die but maybe if Ghostface came after you it would mean keeping Tara safe would be easier.

“But those two guys from class were the opening kill,” Anika said. “Right?” Her brow was scrunched together as she clearly tried to make sense of everything her girlfriend was saying.

“Yes!” Mindy said, pointing proudly at her girlfriend. “But if you ask me, that was more taking out the competition than killing someone the core friend group knows.”

“Can we,” Sam interrupted, shaking her head at the scene before her. “Just get back on topic here.”

“This is all relevant Sam,” Mindy gestured wildly with her hands. “But Fine,” she rolled her eyes. “Our suspects!” She turned on her heel and gave Ethan a devilish smirk.

“Me?” Ethan asked, his voice going up a notch. “Why? Because I’m randomly Chad’s roommate?”

“Roommate lotteries can be juked; you could have fixed it to get next to us.” Mindy didn’t wait for Ethan to respond because she was already turning to face her next suspect. “Quinn, the slutty roommate, a horror movie classic.” You suppressed a sigh, you didn’t think pointing out that this was real life and not a movie would do any good.

“Sex positive,” Quinn corrected but didn’t seem overly offended at being accused like Ethan had.

“How did you come to live with Sam, Tara, and Y/N?” Mindy tilted her head, though it wasn’t like she didn’t already know the answer.

“I answered their ad online,” Quinn shot the three of you a confused look.

“Say no more!” Mindy threw her hands in the air. “You’ve already implicated yourself enough.”

“It was an anonymous ad,” Tara sighed. “Plus, you know we vetted her.”

You nodded; you remember the meetings that were held for potential roommates. Several people responded to the ad and you, Sam, and Tara met with every single one of them. Some lasted longer than others, then there were some that arrived and Sam made leave before they ever stepped foot in the apartment. The handful of people that passed the initial inspection were subjected to a light Q&A, which you said seemed more like an interrogation. You didn’t participate a whole lot in that part, mostly just sitting silently at the table while Tara played nice cop, asking the questions, and Sam would butt in, asking her own questions or follow up questions, but mostly just glaring at said person. Mindy was also there, she was the one who came up with over half the questions for you guys to ask, even if some seemed very weird.

“Plus, her dad is a cop,” Tara added.

“And that makes it more likely that she’s the killer,” Mindy said, pointing at Quinn.

You tilted your head in thought at that. Your eyes slid over to Quinn, you did think it was suspicious Bailey had gotten the case, even if he said his buddy offered it to him. Something also felt off about him during the interrogation. Mindy hadn’t directly said Bailey was a suspect, but he was a cop, he’d know how to use a shotgun and could move like that Ghostface from the bodega. It also moved Quinn higher on the suspect list, her dad could have trained her how to shoot a gun and anything else she would need to know for defending herself, but those skills could also double in making her one effective killer.

“Do you not remember how these movies work Tara?” Mindy shouted, bringing you out of your thoughts.

You glared up at Mindy and pulled Tara closer. You knew this was just the way Mindy was, but Tara had really calmed down on the horror movie front, even though it was once her favorite genre. She still went to school for film she didn’t seem as excited about it as she once did. When she used to talk about going to college for film, it always involved the two of you moving together, but it also involved Amber. Amber was Tara’s best friend and someone who shared Tara’s love of movies, though she was less intense about everything as Mindy, well, at least that’s how she portrayed herself, it turned out she was even crazier than Mindy. After Amber’s betrayal it just seemed like Tara lost her original passion for the subject.

“And finally, Anika,” Mindy said, facing her girlfriend, and final suspect. Anika smiled and blew a kiss to Mindy, who happily blew a kiss in return. “Never trust the love interest.” Anika frowned at that, like she was hurt her own girlfriend didn’t trust her.

You liked Anika, she was the sweetest person you had ever met. You knew you had to have your guard up around her though, as much as you wanted to trust her you knew Ghostface could be anyone. You never liked Amber, but you had never imagined her as someone who was capable of hurting Tara. You glanced at Ethan, he was shy and dorky, someone who clearly struggled making friends. In the moment though, you couldn’t help but be reminded of Richie, he played the sweet supportive boyfriend to Sam, always coming off as incredibly awkward and a total dork, only to end up being a total psychopath.

“Great,” Sam said. “We have our suspects-”

“W-wait,” Ethan interrupted. “What about you guys?”

“I think it’s safe to rule out all of us who went through this last year,” Mindy said.

“Yeah,” Quinn said. “Who’s to say the trauma you all went through didn’t cause one or even all of you to snap?”

“Yeah, and why do they,” Ethan said, pointing at you. “Get a free pass? Just because they’re more likely to be a target? Come on,” he scoffed. “Weren’t they your number one suspect last year?” he raised an eyebrow at Mindy. Tara whipped her head around, shooting a furious glare at Ethan. “And that look is rather murderous,” he glanced at Tara out of the side of his eye and even went as far as to shift away from her, even though he was on a completely different bench.

“Accuse her girlfriend and feel Tara’s wrath,” Mindy mumbled. “But that is not the only reason!” she raised her pointer finger up high. You furrowed your brow, you didn’t know there was another reason you couldn’t possibly be the murderer. “They are also not physically capable of such a thing.” You frowned at that, not that you wanted to be excused of murder again. “They received significant injuries last year and quite literally could not move and chase us around like Ghostface needs to.”

“They could have a partner and they’re just the mastermind,” Ethan pointed at you. “Playing the innocent victim.” This time you and Sam glared at Ethan, along with Tara who had yet to stop her own glare.

“That’s true,” Mindy mumbled more to herself, stroking her chin as if she were in deep thought. Tara was quick to shift her murderous glare from Ethan to Mindy. Mindy’s eyes widened, as if she just realized she spoke aloud and slowly raised her hands in surrender.

“Okay, I think that’s enough,” Sam said, ending the discussion before someone, most likely Ethan, got murdered, most likely by her sister.

Everyone got up and went their separate ways, most of them most likely heading off to class. It was just you, Tara, and Sam once again and Tara didn’t seem interested in heading in the direction of the class you knew started in almost half an hour.

“Let’s go home,” Tara said. She held out her hand and pulled you up from the bench. Going home would give the two of you the perfect opportunity to talk, even though a part of you just wanted to rest and spend time together.

Taglist: @mamas-evil-hag @thatshyboy1998 @btay3115 @idontliketoread2137 @nwestra

@honorarysimp @canyonyodeler @chxrry-lov3 @aceofspades190 @worstendingever

[kiszjuli]

CLASS CRUSH .ᐟ

✸ TA!jeno x fem!reader | genre. fluff | w.c. 2.0k | ♡

↳ synopsis. in which your shy and reserved TA from your literature class started acting a little different. harboring a crush on you for months, he finally gets the courage to confess to you…on valentine’s day.

↳playlist. unkown - nct dream, coffee - beabadoobee, can i be him? - james arthur, walk with you - nct dream, pretty u - seventeen, your eyes - stray kids.

a typical afternoon in your literature class, which happened to be one of your favorite classes, your professor stood at the front going about his lecture of romantic poetry. the sounds of pens and pencils scribbling as your class took notes.

a shadow falls over your desk, and the faint smell of fresh mint filling your nostrils. you look up from your paper and see jeno. he was this classes' TA. he also happened to be part of the reason you definitely didn't mind this class. he was always so patient and kind when explaining things, and had such a comforting presence about him- something you admired.

"hey," his soft husky voice warming your heart. lifting your head to glance up at him, your gaze fell down to the papers in his hands, taking note of the tight grip he had on them. something was a little...off about his usual calm demeanor.

"here's the handout," he said tearing his eyes off you and placing the paper out in front of you on your desk. instead of instantly moving to the next person, he lingers.

you wait a couple more seconds before speaking yourself. "thanks," you mutter quietly.

"oh! uh- yeah you're welcome," he stammers and moves past you to the next desk.

you have trouble holding back a small smile as you watch him, seeing the slight redness of his ears.

─

that was one of the first times you started to notice his slightly different behavior towards you. you started to notice jeno stealing small glances at you during classes, and every time, he would immediately advert his eyes.

sometimes when you would have group assignments, you found him enthusiastically responding to your comments and points. something the other students seem to catch on to.

it even got to the point where you found out he was noticing little things about you.

you came into class one day with a different notebook than usual, your other notebook having been full, you went out and bought a new one. the design was similar, the same colors that matched all your other stationary.

jeno was walking past your desk, trying to keep his eyes away from you, just as you pulled out your notebook. class hadn't started yet, so he figured it would be okay to talk to you.

"i like your new notebook," he offers with a small smile and a motion to your notebook.

"hm? oh! thank you.." you glance from your notebook to him.

"of course," he says and tries to walk away as normal as possible.

you sit there thinking about the interaction. how had he noticed before any of your friends? or even at all?

─

all of these interactions have been the reason that for the past couple of weeks, you couldn't get jeno out of your mind. his professionalism seeming to waver when he was near you. the way he acted slightly more tentative to you- all of which the class seemed to notice too.

today was no different, except for that it was valentine's day. you tried to ignore all the pink and red decorations around campus. while it wasn't your least favorite holdiay, you could've gone without seeing all of the couples kissing and smiling and holding hands as they do normally. for some reason it was just different on valentine's day. not that you were bitter about it, you just wished that one day you could experience the love that other people did on valentine's day.

breaking you from your thoughts, your professor started the lecture. today he had a simple assignment, which you were thankful for. you couldn't focus much anyway. not with the lingering eyes you felt from across the room. the subtle glances throughout classes, not so subtle anymore. you felt a slight tint in your cheeks and shook your head trying to get to work. you'd be lying if you said jeno wasn't an attractive man, anyone could see that.

eventually, class came to an end, and everyone starting to pack up. you moved slowly, not in a hurry as your classmates seemed to file out pretty quickly. leaving you and a few other people scattered in the room.

"hey.."

you turn and look up seeing jeno nearing your desk. his less formal attire today- a white button down with some black slacks, adorned with a pink tie. and of course, his usual silver-rimmed glasses.

"hi jeno," you offer a small smile as you stand from your seat. hsi expression was slightly nervous unlike during class, which was a face you started becoming accustomed to when he talked to you.

"i, uh.." he trails scratching the back of his neck and glancing at the door for a second. he contemplated just running out and hoping you would forget he even came up to you.

"i was wondering if, um i could talk to you for a minute? outside of class?"

your eyebrows raise slightly in surprise and you comply as you grab your bag. "sure,"

you two step into a quieter part of the hallway. you look over his form as he fidgets with the small stack of papers in his hands- most likely ones that needed grading.

"i hope this isn't weird to you or anything, but i've been meaning to ask you-tell you something," he begins with a soft but uncertain voice.

you wait curiously.

your gaze making him more nervous. he clears his throat and starts again.

"i've really enjoyed getting to know you, through- in class," his words coming out a little rushed. "you're always so engaged and i..i really admire the way you think. i-" he pauses to take a deep breath.

"i like you," he blurts out keeping his eyes on yours. he felt his cheeks starting to burn, matching the pink of his ears. "i have for a while now...but i wasn't sure it was even appropriate. you're a student and i'm your..well, the TA, so i didn't want to make things difficult or uncomfortable,"

your heart seems to skip multiple beats as jeno confesses to you. your own cheeks feeling a slight blush to creep up. he looked so vulnerable, with his nervous gaze and pink ears and shaky grip on the papers.

"i don't think it's inappropriate, not at all," you smile at him. "and i think it's really sweet that you're telling me," you add.

unfortunately he takes your words as an upcoming rejection and his face falters a little. nonetheless, he keeps a hopeful tone.

"really?" you nod still equipped with the smile on your face that he adored so much.

"so...does that mean that you'd maybe, um, like to go out with me sometime? or whenever you're free?" his eyes flickering with a hopeful gaze.

laughing softly at his adorable reaction, you nod again. "yeah, jeno, i'd like that a lot."

you can see the pure relief that washes over his face. a shy smile forms on his face. "okay, great, i could text? if that's okay?"

"perfect," you reply, a shy smile of your own mirroring his, as you exchange numbers.

you walk away, glancing back you catch jeno still standing there, grinning to himself.

and just like that, valentine's day became more bearable.

─

the early evening sun rays painted the campus walls with warm hues as you waited near the library. your heart fluttered thinking about what was to come as you waited for jeno, wanting to be early. you looked down at your phone for the time, as you heard footsteps approaching. looking up, you smiled softly seeing jeno walking towards you with an equally nervous expression, yet his face was adorned with a charming smile.

"hi," he greeted you with that smooth, soft voice you were used to.

"hi," you replied putting your phone away. "so, what's the plan?"

letting out a breathy laugh, jeno scratched the back of his note. "well, it's nothing fancy or anything, but there's this little quiet little diner off-campus that i like. i thought it'd be pretty nice?" his eyes flickering to yours for approval.

you beamed up at him. "that sounds perfect," his shoulders relaxed a litte.

the walk to the diner was light-hearted, filled with easy conversation, though you couldn’t help but notice the way jeno’s fingers twitched at his side a little. almost like he wanted to reach out for your hand but wasn’t sure if he should just yet. the thought made you smile to yourself, and when you ‘accidentally’ bumped his hand with yours, you saw the way his ears turned red.

the diner itself was cozy and warm, with checkered floors and booths tucked into corners. they also had a few valentines themed decorations adorning the walls and booths. jeno led you to a table near the window, where the golden glow of the sunset made everything feel warm and intimate. he handed you a menu, his fingers brushing yours briefly before he quickly pulled away, his blush deepening.

“i actually come here a lot after late classes,” he admitted, fiddling with the menu in his hands. “the food’s nothing fancy, but it’s really good.”

you smiled. “i’ll be the judge of that.”

he chuckled and looked back to his menu.

as you both ordered and the date went on, jeno seemed to relax more. he opened up about little things—his favorite books, his funniest moments as a TA, even how he always tried to act calm in class but was secretly terrified of saying something dumb in front of you.

“you? terrified? you’re, like- one of the most calm and collected people i’ve ever met,” you teased, but with truth behind it.

jeno laughed softly, shaking his head. “not when it comes to you. i… i overthink everything when I’m around you.”

your cheeks heat up and a bashful smile creeps on your face.

after being asked why he looks down to the table, trying to figure it out for himself. “i really don’t know why, but my brain just goes blank when i look at you. sometimes i feel like im going crazy,”

the admission made your cheeks heat up, and you looked down at your plate to hide your smile. you knew that deep down you shared the feeling with him, the more you looked at him in class, the less you could focus.

─

at the end of the meal, jeno insisted on paying, claiming that it was how it should be done- especially on valentine’s day.

you walked back to campus under the soft glow of streetlights keeping the both of you calmed. jeno finally mustered up the courage to take your hand in his. his grip was gentle but firm, and when you glanced at him, his face was red, but he was smiling. a content smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“i had a really good time,” you said softly when you reached your dorm.

“me too,” he replied looking down at you fondly.

you squeezed his hand before stepping closer. “thanks for today, jeno. it was perfect.”

before he could say anything else, you leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. and when you pulled back, his wide-eyed, flustered expression made you laugh, but he quickly recovered with a shy grin.

“happy valentine’s day and goodnight,” you said with a cheeky smile, opening your door.

“goodnight,” he echoed with a slight starstruck look. his hand brushing his cheek where you’d kissed him, his smile lingering even as he walked away.

after watching him walk away for a bit through the window, you leaned against your door for a moment. the beautiful night replaying in your mind, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. smiling to yourself, you thought , ‘maybe valentine’s day wasn’t so overrated after all.’

and as you glanced at your phone, a new message popped up:

jeno: i can’t stop smiling. can we do this again soon?

you laughed softly, already typing back your reply.

you: definitely :)

─

taggies (open)↳ @kittydollzz @huffnpufffckk @completelyjae @lovesuhng @nae-vm @ayibdorrt @chocoriki @yowmaman @yukisroom97

⁀➷⊹ ࣪ ˖~THE LA LA LOVE SERIES .ᐟ

[wizard-of-interesting-failure]

"I don't understand. Why isn't he getting up?"

"Wh- you killed him!"

"Don't be silly, death isn't real."

"You cast Finger of Death!"

"I cast Lightning Bolt too; they name spells after fake shit all the time."

"Lightning is real too!!"

"Oh come on. Next you'll be telling me color is a thing."

"...have you ever actually been outside this cavern?"

"What's a cavern?"

"It's where we are right now!"

"Odd name for it, but yes, of course I have. Been this way, that way, through there is a lovely group of giant spiders..."

"We, ah. Might have killed those on our way here."

"Don't be silly, death isn't real."

"...right. Where do you think we came from?"

"Eh, somewhere. Weird shit shows up all the time."

"I-"

"Oh! Your friend there startled me and it totally slipped my mind; would you care for some tea? I don't drink it myself, but I keep some on hand for guests."

"...okay, listen. These are the Caverns of Chaos. Everything in here is self-replenishing. The prevailing theory was that they existed to protect a central chamber. We've spent weeks down here slogging through unimaginable horrors to make it there and you're going to, what, play dumb?"

"Okay now you're just being rude. I am not dumb! There might not be much to do around here, but I do my best to keep my mind sharp. I'd like to see you figure out as much as I have about the ever-shifting layout of the world!"

"We did! That's how we got here! Have you never tried scrying the outside?"

"Scrying spells are some sort of prank, best I can tell; they never seem to do anything except give me a headache."

"Cast one up."

"I don't really want to give myself a-"

"Just do it! At least 2000 meters."

"Alright, but I don't see...what..."

"..."

"...colors?"

"Yeah, the whole dungeon is monochrome for some reason, we think-"

"Lightning?"

"Well, if there's a storm, I suppose-"

"Death?"

"...death?"

"There's...more like your friend."

"What do you mean-"

"Why aren't they moving?"

"I don't-"

"I'm moving. I can move. See? They look like me. Why aren't they moving?"

"They're- there are skeletons? We just came from-"

"Am I going to stop moving?"

"No, you-"

"Why isn't your friend moving?"

"..."

"...he's...'dead'. Isn't he. I 'killed' him."

"...listen, just calm down, we can-"

"Oh, yes, of course! I could never figure out what these spells for making 'un-dead' were for, but they must be for fixing this! I'll just-"

"NO!"

"But he's-"

"We're handling it!"

"No you're not! Whatever you're doing, it's not working."

"How can you-"

"You're trying to draw power from something that's not there. I've done it a few times, don't feel bad, it's a common mistake."

"I'm drawing power from my goddess! There's no way she's..."

"What is a goddess? Is it that little symbol you're carrying around? It doesn't seem to have any power in it."

"...it...why can't I feel her?"

"Just let me do it, I can-"

"We're not letting you turn Steve into some kind of undead abomination!"

"Wh- but he wasn't dead before!"

"He was alive, you stupid thing!"

"Right, not dead. Un-dead. I'll just make him un-dead again and then we can..."

"Why has she forsaken me?"

"We can..."

"Why won't she answer??"

"Color...lightning...death..."

audible weeping

"They're like me...why aren't they moving?"

"It's probably just the Caves messing with the divine connection, we should-"

"Should I not be moving?"

extended wailing

"Is un-dead not like 'alive'?"

"Listen, I know we didn't have this problem before, but-"

"Is there something wrong with being un-dead?"

"OF COURSE THERE IS, YOU STUPID UNDEAD THING! STEVE IS DEAD, THE GODDESS WON'T LISTEN TO ME, AND YOU'RE JUST...just..."

"...just what?"

"..."

"What am I?"

"..."

"WHAT AM I???"

the cavern shakes

"Listen, just calm down, we'll-"

"Why is he dead? Why are they all dead?"

"All wh-"

"The ones you made me scry on!"

"Oh my god, we forgot about-"

"Why aren't they moving??"

"We don't know! What else did you see?"

"Colors, lightning, death..."

"What else??"

"Colors, lightning, death..."

the lich collapses into a fetal position, rocking back and forth

"Listen, this is important, you need to-"

someone attempts to shake the lich. A sudden pulse of darkness slams them into the opposite wall.

"Colors, lightning, death..."

"Just calm down, we can-"

"GODDESS? WHERE ARE YOU??"

"Colors, lightning, death..."

the party leader buries her face in her hands. The healer weeps and wails. The lich, seemingly catatonic, continues mumbling to himself. This goes on for a while.

"..."

"Right. Okay. That's enough of this. We're taking Steve's body and leaving. We wouldn't have a chance against a lich in this state anyway. Keep trying to revive him as we go, we'll-"

"...lich?"

"Yes, yes, you don't know anything about anything, it's very funny, har har, we're done here. Go back to giving yourself headaches or whatever it is you do all day."

"I'm coming with you."

"...what?"

"You know what I am. You know about places that aren't 'caverns'. You know about colors, lightning, and death. I need to come with you."

"No offence, buddy, but you don't exactly seem like adventuring material."

"Please! Don't you need to find out why all those people are...'dead'? I can speak with dead, I guess, if it's a real thing."

"..."

"We are not taking this THING that killed Steve with us!"

"...we probably are going to need help with whatever is going on up there."

"He might be lying!"

the party leader gestures at the utterly guileless lich. The healer turns away.

"...fine."

"Thank you."

"Just...keep him away from me."

The party improvises a stretcher as the lich gathers up his meager possessions. A thick silence reigns as the group shuffles out the only exit, the lich awkwardly following at a distance.

"Wait, I forgot my maps-"

"We'll be fine. Just stay back there, okay? You've caused enough trouble for one day."

Nodding hesitantly, the lich steps over the threshold, leaving his cavern for the last time.

It turns out that the lich the adventurers had been hired to slay had never actually killed anyone before until the impulsive paladin of the group swung first. Now, as the healer tries to revive them, the rest have to calm the ancient undead mage down from what is undeniably a panic attack.

[midnight-mourning]

Love Bites

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 8💘💘

Okay okay okay, back on track now, please enjoy this little diaster i made based on @divinit3a's yeti boys, it was, quite fun >:3c

Prompt: umm letseee... valentines...Typically the Sun is not Out.... (for... Reasons... ahah.) but----loves to hunt, and hunt for the thrill/sport/game of it. And loves to eat & eat & would love a properly cooked meal. preference to high protein meals, very rich, very tasty, salty & fatty. so Im sure if u wanted to tackle him, in particular, could have fun with that..... (Slaps a giant fish on the table. Token of affection. Totally Wont Eat You ) The Moon.......... is a lot quieter and subdued, but actually a far better caretaker. takes care of hurt animals; would probably take care of a hurt human, too. mmm hot cocoa. much pickier eater, he doesnt like much, and he doesnt like to eat meat.... I think overall, a 'meal together' would be the best valentines fhgjsdfghjsdf WITH THESE FREAKS IN PARTICULAR...

Word Count: 2907

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

The hall is quiet as you step out from your room. You strain to listen for any sign of life, nothing. Must be out. Good. That gives you more time. 

Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the shadowed hallway, not nearly as bright as your windowed room. Though, you weren't opposed to keeping the lights off. It saved energy for one—which meant warm floor beneath your feet as you pad through the facility—and two, it kept the not as friendly yeti from making an appearance. Which, yourself and Moon were both in agreement about at least. 

When you'd first gotten here, so many months ago now, your first encounter with the yeti, robot, thing—you still haven't quite figured that one out—was less than, pleasant. Though, that may very well have been due to the state he first saw you in. Which was bloodied, bruised, and vulnerable. And as Moon would later explain it to you, that had triggered something in counterpart. Something more instinct than logical. 

Luckily for you, a ragged chase into a darkened cavern had saved you from suffering any further injury, or worse. 

Instead, you got Moon, and he was thankfully much calmer than the other bot. He also wasn't trying to kill you, so you took what you could get. He patched you up, gave you a place to stay, a nice warm bed out of the cold, and plenty of things to do while you recovered. 

When you'd first ventured out into the snow, having heard the rumors of the 'ice devil' you'd be facing, this hadn't been what you'd expected. 

Delivish upon first glance, sure. Those tusks didn't help anything, that's for certain. Not to mention Sun as a whole, the manic energy he radiated, the wild look in his eyes, the raw strength as he'd pinned you down to "Try a bite"—

But still, with Moon at the very least, the rumors didn't match up. 

He was quiet, even a bit stern in certain cases, but polite. He took his directives very seriously, but beyond that, he held a compassion you wouldn't ever have expected of a machine. Though, maybe it was because he was a bit more than that, they both were. 

Regardless, you owed him for not abandoning you out there in the frozen tundra to die. Much less putting in the effort he had to care for you.

As you traverse the hall now, there's only the slightest pain still left in your ankle as you shuffle. You'd left the crutches behind today, as you had been the past several mornings, despite the lunar-themed yeti's insistence for otherwise. 

That was another thing, the care. For a so-called devil, he had the attitude of a saint. Or well, you didn't know any saints, so a good friend then. A very good friend, at that. 

You found yourself in long conversations that would last hours, either listening to that quiet tone regale you with stories of all his travels, or sharing some of your own experiences prior to meeting them. You enjoyed the walks you'd take together through the caverns, or going with him out into the arctic—on the rare trips he would allow you with your injury—to scout for poachers and the likes. 

And those rare moments you could get him to laugh at one of your jokes, it lit something inside you that you couldn't describe. Something that albeit would be a bit more frightening than it already was if not for your situation. 

You think the combination of getting your foot caught in a bear trap, freed and then chased by a rabid yeti-bot, and then saved by the other side of that same yeti-bot, allowed you some freedom when it came to your feelings. 

But that wasn't the point to what you were doing. Rather, you wanted to show your appreciation for Moon, not your feelings. Nevermind the fact that today did just so happen to be Valentine's, having found out by checking the date on your half-dead phone. 

Besides, You didn't even know if it was even possible for him to return such affections. Truthfully, you preferred not knowing if it meant you could keep this peace you've had for so long now. You were almost afraid for when you fully healed. 

Afraid that the moment you could leave, you'd be kicked out, back into the cold to survive to find your own way back to society. That the past few months were nothing but a ruse, set up by Moon and in fact once you were at a good range, your back turned and unaware, Sun would bear down on you and—

You shake your head, no. Despite your initial encounter, Sun had been fine. He wasn't allowed out much, so you didn't speak much, though you also think he would prefer not to. It didn't necessarily have to do with you in particular, you don't think. 

Whereas Moon was more oriented to stay on task, Sun had his own personal drive to fulfill. You'd yet to figure out exactly what that was yet, however. Besides the desire to hunt and kill just for the thrill of it. Whatever it was, with your injury, you simply didn't fit into it. You had no use—for now—so he left you to your own devices. 

For now. 

You flip on the light to the kitchen area as you enter, dimmed lighting now illuminating the space. 

You'd been surprised to find there was indeed working cooking equipment in the research station. Not originally all in the same space, but with a bit of help, you'd dragged everything functional into one space. 

When it came to ingredients, you didn't have much to work with besides what either yeti brought to you. There was some very old canned food you'd found, and several containers of unopened spices, but beyond that it was slim pickings. The crate of hot coco you'd found had been a godsend. Considering the situation though, you weren't going to complain. 

The idea of making a meal had come from the simple fact of the matter that beyond hunting and protecting, Moon nor Sun did much else. So, providing nourishment would have to be your way to pay back their hospitality. Or at least, Moon's hospitality. If Sun enjoyed something you made, you'd consider that in and of itself a victory.

So, you set to work immediately. Opening the fridge, you pulled out one of the the few items in there, a massive bluefin tuna, which took up the majority of the space. You struggle to take it out, much less carry it with wobbling limbs over to the island. When you put it on the counter, you almost swear you hear it creak under the weight. 

You step back and let out a breath, admiring the giant fish for a moment. While the two really only ate for fuel—a fish like this would just simply be devoured as is from what you'd seen—you knew they could taste, and that when presented with chances to try something that was flavored in some regard, they did seem to enjoy it. Especially Sun, having taken one bite of your beef jerky and snatching the rest away for himself when you'd not been paying attention. 

Though you only had the one fish and just a few other ingredients to work with, you had several ideas in mind for how to properly utilize it. Taking the large butcher knife, you cleaned, gutted, and scaled it, and divided it up into proper pieces. 

The loin you'd make steaks out of, pan searing and basting in fats, utilizing the bit of pepper and spices you had available. You set aside three to cook and stored the rest in the freezer. 

The back you would smoke, creating some jerky from the pieces there. Thankfully, Moon kept firewood around in case the power failed entirely, and you doubted he would notice a few pieces going missing. You'd utilized one of the broken freezers for your smokehouse. 

The belly would be raw, sliced thin and served with a bit of the salty roe that you'd discovered inside the fish initially. 

As for the remaining bits of the fish, you'd stew the bones for a broth and fry the collar and cheeks as one final touch to finish off the meal. 

It was a lot, all things considered, and for them it may very well be next to nothing in comparison to their appetites, especially Sun's. But, that wasn't going to deter you from trying your best to make something from your heart. So, you got to work. 

You had no idea when Moon would return, so you tried your best to work both quickly and effectively. Thankfully, since several items were basic prep, they took very little time to come together. You enjoyed it, the process overall. After all the time being spent on you, being able to give back felt gratifying in its own way, exciting even. Again, ignoring your own feelings about the yeti. 

At some point, you even find a small radio, the batteries still good to your delight. Despite your location, you can just barely catch a signal as sappy love songs play from some far away station. You hum and dance and sing to the music as you cook, the time passing by like nothing to you in your focused state. You even are able to make yourself some hot coco, sipping on it throughout the cooking process. 

You're so focused, even, that you don't notice the towering presence hovering around the other side of the counter until you turn directly to face it. You were just setting down the last bit of the meal, ready to sit and wait for Moon's return, so color you shocked when you find yourself face to chest with Sun instead. 

His head cocked to the side as he looks down at you, expression unreadable as he examines you with that calculated stare.

"You've been busy." He states. 

You come out of your daze, shaking your head. "I-yeah. I have."

"Tore up the meat. A pity. I was going to enjoy that." He picks at one of his claws, you see a hint of red stained there before he glances back up to you, grin wide. "Though, it's not nearly as good as when it's fresh, anyhow."

You both know that fresh isn't quite what he's implying. 

You swallow, while you'd been expecting Moon—and would have preferred him, especially in this case—this was technically a gift for the day-themed yeti too.

Deciding you weren't going to let your lingering fear overtake you, you straighten up, and steady your voice. "This is all for you, actually. And Moon, of course. I, wanted to extend my thanks for, allowing me to stay these past few months." This again was technically all for Moon, but you couldn't exactly say that with Sun standing right in front of you. 

"I—Me?" He questions, eyes widening and grin falling. 

You nod. "Yeah, I um, figured that something made with a bit more care might be something you guys liked. I noticed you never really get the chance to... add more flavor to things, and you seemed to like my snacks in the past so, i just—" You stop when you find that he's eye to eye with you now, baring down on you with a serious expression you weren't anticipating. 

"You made us, me, a meal?" The way the words are half-snarled mere inches from your face makes you flinch. 

"Y-yes?"

Sun stares at you for a bit longer, and if you weren't so alarmed you'd move away. But you don't. 

After a few moments more, he huffs, then starts to chuckle, standing straight again. "Aren't you just so interesting, Little Star?" 

You feel confusion knit your brows only for them to shoot up in shock as Sun's hand suddenly grasps your chin, leaning in again. 

His other hand snatches one of the pieces of raw fish from the table, eating it in one bite. "Such an offering from you is, surprising but, despite your, obvious misconceptions about our relationship, I suppose I can consider it." He tilts your head this was and that. "You're not the worst option I've ever been presented with."

"I, huh?" 

He let's you go again, grabbing one of the steaks with his bare hands. His teeth tear through it like it's nothing. You can only watch as you try to understand what he's saying, not entirely comprehending it. 

When he's finished, he wipes his mouth, snickering to himself. "I certainly can't wait to see what he thinks of your proposition. I'm sure it will be entertaining to say the least."

Before you can respond, he walks over to the light switch, dimming the lights as low as possible, thus allowing for Moon to take his place. 

As the switch occurs, Sun makes one final remark, and it all finally clicks to you. "Something you should keep in mind though if I do accept, Sunshine, is that I don't share."

With that, you're left with an embarrassing realization, and Moon. 

You can't make eye contact with him, instead turning around and starting to busy yourself with cleaning up to distract from the burning feeling spread across your cheeks. 

You can't believe you didn't put together that something like this would mean something like that to them. But it's not like you would have known either! How were you supposed to understand the cultural differences between humans and yeti-robots that lived in abandoned research centers? This feels like something that was on them and not you to be honest. 

Your half-delusioned reasonings do nothing to stop the racing in your heart as you clean, and you just hope to finish up quickly, grab a snack for yourself, and get out of there to keep yourself from any further embarrassment. 

"It's very good, Starlight."

You pause for a moment, then hum. "Y-yeah?"

"Yes. The amount of flavor you've packed into each dish is... incredible." Moon says, sounding genuinely a bit in awe. 

It only worsens your state, mumbling back a quiet response. "I'm, I'm glad you like it."

Quiet between the two of you. The radio still plays softly throughout the space, only disrupted by the sound of clinking as you clean things up, or Moon's utensils scraping against each other. 

"So what Sun said—" "You should eat too—"

You both stop, and looking back to him, you laugh softly. 

You nod. "You first."

"Join me." He pats a seat next to him. "It's only fair after the effort you've put in."

"Oh! Okay." 

You try not to make a fool of yourself as you make your way over and sit down. You can only protest as Moon piles you a plate full of food, depositing it in front of you once he's finished. 

He hands you a fork, chuckling at the scowl on your features. "You need your energy too, if you want to stand any chance at getting better."

"You're not wrong." You sigh, taking a bite of the smoked fish. As you'd hoped, it's delicious, and you appreciate your own efforts to make such good food in that moment. 

"So,"—Moon reaches for a bit of the fried collar—"You were saying?"

You almost choke on the bite you just swallowed. You regain your composure to answer. "I, um, Sun mentioned, that um, something like this was very, very, important to you guys in a specific way. Which, honestly I didn't know and I'm so sorry if I've offended you I just wanted to do something nice—"

You're interrupted by a kiss pressed to your forehead. 

"I would say offended is nowhere close to the feelings you've elicited. Honestly." The night-themed yeti states, amusement between the words. "Rather, I find myself rather interested in your proposal, intentional or not."

Your eyes widen ever further. "Pr-proposal?"

"If I'm misreading, then I am sorry, Star. But I—"

"No!" You shake your head, trying again. "No, you're not um, misreading. But again this wasn't my intent at all. I'm definitely all for it. I mean, to a point you know, sorry this isn't something I ever expected to happen but I really do like you, a lot and—"

Instead of a kiss, a piece of tuna is pressed into your mouth, and with how good it is you can't say for sure that you'd prefer the kiss or not. As you chew, a slight scowl on your features, Moon laughs. It makes your heart flutter for a moment. 

"I really like you too. I wasn't sure that you'd feel the same, so I didn't act on those feelings. But, since you've shown that you clearly feel something,"—He snickers as you shoot him another glare—"For me, I'm more than happy to make it clear to you now."

"Gee, thanks." 

Another kiss is pressed to your hair, arm wrapping around you and you welcome it, snuggling into the warm fur next to you. You grab a piece of tuna, munching on it to hide your fluster in that moment. 

"And since he's already said it, I will too." Moon's voice is right next to your ear in that moment, low but lethal. 

"I don't share either."

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank you for the request @divinit3a!! I had lots and lots of fun with the yetis and i can't wait to see what else you do with them yourself, i may perhaps do a bit more when I find the time hehehehe

My writing Masterpost

DCA Valentine's Masterpost

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

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[ayumigotabittoolonely]

Baby you are the baddest

Baby you are the baddest, baby you are the baddest girl

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒚 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎. 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒆, 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒆 u 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆? 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓.

Characters - nanami kento , gojo Satoru and Suguru geto

Gojo Satoru

Jujutsu Tech was hosting a huge party for all the students and teachers, and as one of the teachers, you were excited at least, you tried to be. You had asked Gojo to accompany you, but he refused, saying he was the organizer and had things to handle. So, you arrived alone.

You were wearing

Beautiful Right? Right??

But the moment you stepped in, something felt off. The room was filled with stunning people your coworkers looking absolutely amazing, dressed to impress. You knew you were beautiful, you reminded yourself over and over, but tonight… you just weren’t feeling it.

Then you saw her.

Gojo’s ex.

She was wearing blue too, but hers was a deeper, richer shade. Her dress was shorter, hugging her figure in all the right places. She looked effortlessly stunning, drawing attention from every corner of the room. Compliments flooded her way, and with each one, your confidence sank a little more.

Before you could spiral any further, a loud voice echoed through the room.

"ATTENTION!"

Gojo.

He cleared his throat, a smug grin already forming. Then, as expected, he started the program with one of his signature flirty lines something smooth, playful, the kind of thing he always did. Normally, you’d just roll your eyes, maybe even laugh.

But tonight?

Tonight, it just made you feel worse.

Everyone clapped, the room filled with cheers and applause. Lost in your thoughts, you barely reacted until Utahime lightly smacked your arm, snapping you out of it.

“Come on, at least pretend to enjoy yourself,” she muttered.

You let out an awkward snort, forcing a small laugh as you clapped along with the crowd. But no matter how much you tried to play along, that sinking feeling in your chest just wouldn’t go away.

His eyes scanned the crowd as he spoke, but the moment they landed on you his breath hitched.

For a second, his mind went completely blank.

Why the hell were you looking like that in front of them? Dressed so beautifully, so effortlessly stunning, yet standing there with an unsure look on your face? It made his chest tighten in ways he didn’t expect.

And the worst part? He was the one organizing this damn event meaning he couldn’t just walk over to you, couldn’t pull you aside, couldn’t do a damn thing about the way you were making his head spin.

Frustrating. Absolutely frustrating.

With every passing second, the insecurity crept in deeper. No matter how much you tried to shake it off, the feeling only got worse.

Then, between the chatters and musics, you heard a voice that made your stomach drop.

"Satoru was definitely checking me out. He still thinks about me. Maybe I can get him back." His ex..

Absolutely not. What the fuck?

"Hell nah, he has a girlfriend," her friend scoffed.

But she just waved it off, laughing dramatically before saying something that hit you like a punch to the gut.

"That girl? Yeah, she looks good, but be real would you pick a cute girl with a basic look or someone hotter?"

Her friend chuckled, brushing it off like it was nothing. But you?

You stood there, frozen.

And for the first time tonight, a terrible thought crossed your mind.

Maybe… just maybe… she was right.

You couldn’t do this. Not tonight. Not anymore.

Your chest felt tight, your hands clenched at your sides as those words replayed in your head over and over again. Would you pick a cute girl with a basic look or someone hotter?

Maybe… maybe she was right. Maybe Satoru deserved someone better. Someone who could match his energy, his confidence someone who wouldn’t feel small next to him.

Your vision blurred slightly as you turned on your heel.

Hell nah, you were not staying here any longer.

Maybe you'd even

No. The thought hurt too much to finish.

But a small, painful voice in your head whispered anyway.

Maybe you should break up with him.

Gojo was stress-eating sweets.

He had been trying really trying to get you off his mind, but it wasn’t working. Every time he glanced in your direction, he felt that same frustration bubbling up again. Why the hell did you have to look so good tonight? And why did you look so sad?

He hadn’t even noticed his ex in the crowd. Didn’t care, didn’t want to care. As far as he was concerned, she didn’t exist.

He took a deep breath, ready to continue his speech, when something caught his eye you.

You were leaving.

His heart lurched. And were you… wiping tears?

His stomach twisted, but on the outside, he kept his usual grin. Flashing a charming smile to the crowd, he smoothly passed the mic to Geto without missing a beat.

Then, without hesitation, he followed you.

You walked outside, tears streaming down your face as you tried to steady your breathing. Your chest ached, and no matter how hard you tried to push the thoughts away, they just wouldn’t leave.

Before you could take another step, you heard hurried footsteps behind you.

“Oi—”

Gojo caught up to you in an instant, his usual carefree presence feeling different this time. He let out an awkward laugh, but it wasn’t his usual teasing one. No, this one was tense forced. Because if someone had done this to you, if someone had hurt you enough to make you cry, he would fucking hollow them without hesitation.

This was the first time he had ever seen you like this.

And for the first time in a long time, he felt unsure.

His voice wavered slightly as he reached for you, hesitating before speaking.

“B-baby… who got you crying like that? Tell me, what’s happening?” He tried to mask the worry in his voice, tried to keep up his usual playful charm, but it was useless his concern for you was far too obvious.

You swallowed hard, looking up at him, your heart breaking before the words even left your mouth.

“Gojo… let’s put an end to this.”

What.

The.

Fuck.

His mind short-circuited.

What in the world did you just say?

He looked at you like he had just seen a ghost.

For a moment, he didn’t move just stood there, staring at you, his mind struggling to process what he had just heard. Then, without hesitation, he reached out and grabbed your hand, gripping it tightly like he was afraid you’d slip away.

“It’s not time to joke, babe.” His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it something desperate, something scared.

But you only shook your head.

“I’m not kidding, Satoru.” Your voice wavered, but you pushed through. “I looked at myself… and then at your ex… and I realized no, not realized, because it’s the truth you deserve someone better than me. Someone more attractive, someone at your level. After all… you’re the strongest sorcerer.”

You expected him to laugh it off, to tell you you were being ridiculous. But the way his jaw clenched, the way his grip on your hand tightened just a little more

He wasn’t laughing.

He was mad.

Not the kind of playful, teasing irritation he usually had no. This was different.

It wasn’t just anger. It was disappointment. Not at you, but at the fact that you his girl were standing here, crying, actually believing you weren’t enough for him.

His eyes darkened for a split second, jaw tightening as if he was holding something back. But then, just as quickly, he dismissed it, forcing a smile onto his face.

And if you were being honest… that smile scared you a little.

Before you could say anything, he moved.

Swift, effortless he scooped you up into his arms without warning, ignoring your startled gasp.

“Satoru what the hell?”

“Shh, sweetheart.” His voice was calm, but there was something in his tone that made your breath hitch.

Without another word, he carried you straight to the washroom, his grip firm, his expression unreadable.

He gently pulled you inside the bathroom and started to make out with you.

The moment he locked the door behind you, there were no words.

No hesitation.

Just him grabbing you, kissing you, devouring you.

It was rough, desperate, his lips crashing onto yours with a force that left you breathless. First, you had shown up looking so damn beautiful, completely stealing his focus. And then, you had the audacity to say you wanted to break up because you weren’t enough for him?

Enough for him?

Fucking enough for him?

You were everything to him. The most perfect, precious woman in the world. He saw perfection in every flaw you thought you had, and the fact that you couldn’t see it? The fact that you even doubted it?

It pissed him off.

His hands cupped your face, tilting your head up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes burned with something unreadable, something intense, before he let out a sharp breath and snorted a quiet laugh.

Then he kissed you again.

Again.

And again.

“Ooo, look at this woman,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with something dark, something possessive. His hands trailed down, fingertips skimming over your thighs inner thighs, to be precise.

Your breath hitched.

“S-Satoru, what the fuck?” Your voice wavered as you tried to gather your thoughts. “What if people-”

“They’re too busy, babe,” he cut in smoothly, lips brushing against your jaw as his fingers traced slow, teasing circles.

“But what if they catch us…” you whispered, your pulse racing. The last thing you needed was for someone to walk in and see this.

A smirk curled against your skin.

“I hope nobody catches us,” he hummed, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

Then, he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

“But…” he murmured, voice thick with amusement, "I kinda hope they catch us"

You gasped, hands gripping onto his shoulders when his fingers ghosted over the thin fabric covering your heat.

“You wore blue for me, no?” His tone was teasing, but the satisfaction in his voice was undeniable.

It was true. You had wanted to look good tonight. But more than that, you knew blue was his favorite color.

And yet, as his fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns along your waistbandyou found yourself lowering your gaze , feeling shy.

"You are so gorgeous," he hummed against your skin, his lips trailing along your jaw, pressing slow, lingering kisses.

"Baby, you’re the baddest girl… nobody else matters. Not anyone. Only you."

His voice was low, dripping with conviction, and the way he said it like it was the most obvious fact in the world made your head spin.

It was almost like he was gaslighting you into believing you were the most beautiful woman to ever exist.

And fuck it was working.

He gently pushed your dress up to your waist, exposing your soft skin to the cool air. His touch was slow, deliberate like he was savoring every moment, every reaction.

Then, with the same maddening patience, he hooked his fingers around your panties and slid them down, removing them effortlessly.

But instead of tossing them aside, he smirked and casually slipped them into his pocket.

You gasped, your breath hitching as you instinctively clamped a hand over your mouth.

His smile only grew.

"Oh?" he mused, tilting his head, eyes dark with amusement. "Shy now, baby?"

You said nothing your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses against your neck. Each one sent a shiver down your spine, his lips warm, teasing, possessive.

Your fingers curled into his shoulders, gripping onto him as he moved lower, his kisses trailing along your collarbone.

Then, without breaking contact, you heard the soft clink of metal.

Your eyes flickered down just in time to see him unfastening his belt, the sound making your stomach tighten with anticipation.

Satoru smirked against your skin.

"Still think I don’t want you, baby?" he murmured his voice dripping with amusement as he pulled his belt smoothly.

You swallowed hard, heat rushing to your face as he slowly slid the belt from its loops, letting it fall to the floor with a quiet thud. His fingers moved next, unbuttoning his pants with agonizing slowness like he was giving you a chance to stop him, to protest, to run.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Not when his lips returned to your neck, kissing, biting, claiming you.

His hands roamed over your bare thighs, squeezing, kneading his touch firm yet teasing, possessive yet gentle. He was so big, his presence alone swallowing you whole.

"Still quiet?" he murmured, voice laced with amusement as his fingers traced the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. "Not gonna fight me on this?"

Your breath hitched when his fingers slipped higher, parting your thighs with ease.

"Satoru—"

"Shh, sweetheart." His thumb brushed against your clit, barely applying pressure, yet it was enough to send a shiver through you.

Your legs instinctively tried to close, but his grip was firm.

"Uh-uh," he tutted, his other hand gripping your hip. "You’re not running from me now."

You let out a shaky breath, fingers digging into his arms as he kept up his slow, torturous pace, his touch deliberate, calculated meant to break you.

His lips brushed against your ear, his voice dropping lower, thick with something dark and dangerous.

"Let me show you just how fucking perfect you are."

And that’s how it was Satoru making love to you in the bathroom, his touch reverent yet desperate, like he needed to prove something to you.

You muffled your gasps and moans, biting your lip, your hands gripping onto him as he moved against you, within you, filling every inch of your senses.

His eyes never left yours, filled with something deeper than lust something raw, devoted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses wherever he could reach.

“So fucking perfect for me.”

He watched you intently, drinking in every expression, every quiet sound, and when you looked up at him desperate, vulnerable he swore under his breath, leaning in to kiss you again.

As if he could make you feel just how much he meant every word.

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t stop touching you, didn’t stop kissing you, didn’t stop whispering words that made your chest ache and your stomach tighten.

"God, baby… you have no idea what you do to me." His voice was hoarse, filled with something dangerous, something utterly worshipful.

"You’re not just beautiful. You’re stunning. The kind of gorgeous that makes people stop and stare, but they don’t even know the half of it."

His hands slid over your body, tracing every curve, every inch of skin like he was memorizing you.

"It’s not just your looks, sweetheart." He pressed a lingering kiss to your collarbone, then another, his lips trailing up your neck. "You. It’s you. Your smile, your laugh, your stubborn little attitude that drives me crazy."

You whimpered when he thrust deeper, and he groaned at the way you clenched around him.

"You’re so fucking smart, too," he continued, his voice dropping lower. "The way you think, the way your mind works I swear, it’s the sexiest thing about you."

His fingers threaded through yours, pinning your hand above your head as he met your gaze.

"And don’t even get me started on how kind you are," he breathed, his tone almost pained. "You care so much about everything, about everyone but you don’t even realize how easy it is to love you."

Your heart clenched.

"You are everything to me," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours. "So don’t you ever say you’re not enough for me again."

Then, with a smirk, he tilted his head and added,

"If anything, I should be worried about keeping up with you, gorgeous."

After some moments, you heard the click of heels approaching, and before you could even react, the door swung open.

It was none other than his ex.

Her eyes widened in pure shock, and her makeup kit slipped from her hands, crashing to the floor with a loud clatter.

But Satoru?

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he smirked, his movements slow and deliberate as he reached for his discarded jacket and draped it over you, shielding your exposed skin.

Then, as if this was the most casual thing in the world, he turned to her and tilted his head.

“Oh?” His grin was lazy, smug. “Didn’t see you there.”

His grip on your hips tightened possessively before he let out a soft chuckle, his tone downright mocking.

“Hope we didn’t… interrupt anything.”

His ex ran away crying, heels clicking rapidly against the floor as she bolted out of the bathroom.

Satoru barely spared her a glance.

His attention was still on you.

His smirk softened into something more genuine as he gazed down at you, his hands gently running over your waist, your thighs, as if grounding you.

“Look at you, baby,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your flushed cheek. “So fucking pretty… too pretty to be worrying about anyone else.”

You tried to say something, but your head was spinning, your body still trembling from everything. Words felt impossible.

Satoru chuckled, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes, his expression dripping with admiration.

“Lightheaded already? Cute,” he teased, but his tone was filled with nothing but warmth.

He kissed you again slow and deep before murmuring against your lips,

“Let’s get you cleaned up, gorgeous.”

Satoru cleaned you up with a level of care that made your heart ache his usual teasing replaced with soft kisses, gentle touches, and whispered praises.

“Still with me, sweetheart?” he murmured, smoothing down your dress and fixing your hair, his blue eyes scanning your face like he was checking for any signs of discomfort.

You nodded, still too dazed to form actual words, and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“God, I wrecked you, huh?” His smirk returned, but his touch remained soft, almost reverent.

Before you could even try to respond, he scooped you up into his arms effortlessly.

“Satoru—”

“Nope, not letting you walk,” he said firmly, pressing a kiss to your temple as he carried you out of the bathroom. “You look too fucked out to stand properly. And besides…” He grinned down at you. “Gotta make sure everyone sees you wrapped up in my jacket, looking all cute and satisfied.”

Your face burned as he carried you back into the party like you were the most precious thing in the world.

Every single head turned.

Gasps. Stares. Murmurs.

Your coworkers exchanged looks, some shocked, some amused.

And his ex?

Nowhere to be seen.

Satoru, on the other hand, was absolutely thriving. He wore his usual cocky grin, his chest puffed out like he had just won the grandest prize of all.

Which, in his eyes, he had.

Because you were his.

And he had just made damn sure everyone knew it.

And in that moment, wrapped up in his arms, surrounded by the warmth of his jacket and the even warmer way he looked at you

As he carried you through the party, past all the stares and whispers, he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple before murmuring against your skin

“You know… in this whole damn world, you’re the only one who can bring me to my knees.”

His voice was soft, but his words carried weight, filled with something undeniable.

Because Satoru Gojo the strongest, the untouchable, the man who stood above all

Would willingly fall for you, every single time.

All your insecurities melted away.

[ishasturnz]

Cookies ‘n Head

based off this post @sunrisemill and this fic.

contains: porn with plot, counter head?, some fluff, i think thats it, male receiving.

Bsf!Reader x bsf!Chris

authors note: it took me like an hour to figure out a plot just for this because i wanna spoil you guys. Also click on the first message to see the full thing. And RUSHED and maybe a part 2.

wc: 579

character count: 2635

4:36

My car started to pull into his driveway, the smell of freshly baked cookies filling my nose slightly making me lightheaded.

I parked and stepped out of the drivers seat and headed to the front door. Before I could even knock the door swung open revealing a very excited Chris.

“Thank you! thank you! thank you!” He squealed like a girl before attempting to take the white box away.

“Hey! Calm down, you get fed every day I think you’ll be fine without COOKIES for a few seconds.”

5:48

“Can I eat them now?” Chris persistently asked repeatedly like a child. “Okay go ahead and eat some since you want them so badly.”

I grabbed one for myself since I was a bit hungry since I didn't eat lunch.

I took a small bite of the soft food, Chris just stared at my lips the whole time.

Noticing how plump my lips were, how smooth my brown skin was, but his thoughts shifted from something else.

And wasn't appropriate once so ever.

“Chris dude, are you even gonna eat the cookies? I’m only saving them because I want you to have some, secondly, I’m hungry too” My voice chose to get a slight attitude and sassiness added into it.

“Well first off lose the fucking attitude, secondly, M’not hungry. Not for food at least.” His accent started to slip out slowly the deeper his voice got.

“Okay, then what are you hungry for? Because you’re not the only one hungry. But I’m hungry for food so what do you wanna eat then?” I started to slowly get hangry and sassier by the second.

“I got something that’ll make you full.” Those were his last words before I somehow ended up on my knees in front of him.

6:09

"y-yeah—shiit, juuust like tha--mmpfh-ah," Chris’s head fell back against the white cabinet behind him.

His rough hands pulled my hair into a makeshift ponytail, guiding my movements as I continued sucking him off.

His eyes hooded, making it seem like they’ve rolled back completely. His hips started to buck into my mouth making the tip of his oversized cock nudging against the back of my throat making me continuously gag around him.

The noise of gargling filled the entire kitchen "fuuuck, I’m right there, just... just—shit," he groaned out loud.

Hot tears spilled down my face as he continued to face-fuck me. Until the tight coil in his lower stomach started getting tighter and tighter by the second.

and his climax hit him hard, his whole body shuddering, hips twitching into your mouth uncontrollably.

his hips twitching almost involuntarily as he spilled deep down your throat, he held your head down by the makeshift ponytail to make sure you swallowed all of his sticky release a quiet moan left his mouth “..Shittt…”.

6:40

I wiped the corners of my mouth getting rid of access cum and licking it off my thumb. “You should drink more water or something chris— your cum tastes like ass.” My tone playful but I wasn’t joking at all.

“Yeah I don’t think now’s the best time to mention that.” Chris spoke while catching his breath yet munching on one of the soft cookies.

“Yeah sure buddy” I paused before speaking again, “Also who knew Christopher Sturniolo whimpers, more blackmail for me”

“Oh fuck you Y/n.” He uttered with a mouthful of chewed-up cookies in his mouth.

“I mean you can if you want to, I’m not saying no.”

taglist: @tezzzzzzzz @chrepsi @angvl3tears @theylovedemi @sturnshood @sturnberries @sturniologirlzz @muwapsturniolo @dykes4chris @chrisisadilf @chrissturniolossidebitch @baileysturnz @slut4christopherr @slxt4chriss @slvtf0rchr1s @slxtarchive @raesturns @hjvi @starkeyszn @audreyscave @lailasnight @sturns-mermaid @ikyoudreamofme @sturnsmadl @ohmanareyoucereal9 @sossturn @blushsturns @rcklessheavn @55sturn @phone4pills @cupiidk1lls @bsturnzmtts @wh0remikasas @sfoiasturn @trevorsgodmother @bluestriips

MASTERLIST

[wemlygust]

I imagine this as the result of Danny reaching such heights of terror of the GIW, and such frustration with the Amity Park Police Department that never did anything to help and instead just went along with whatever the GIW asked, that he has come out the other side of the terror, landed firmly (at least for now) on the "fight" side of the fight/flight/freeze/fawn dice, and become a police officer out of sheer spite even though this objectively puts him at greater risk of discovery. After the initial impulse wears off a bit, the fear starts to sink in again, but at the same time - this is letting him feed his protection obsession ALL THE TIME, even when he's human, and it's so satisfying and nice, and he's been able to help so many people who were caught by corrupt cops - even if sometimes he has to do it by straight-up grabbing them out of jail as a ghost in the night. He just phases in, grabs them, and phases them out again, without ever even letting them see him. It scares them, but it keeps him safe, it keeps them safe, and then they're free. Then he transfers from his Illinois Police Department to Gotham, because for some reason this move will appease the eyeballs into leaving him alone for 2 seconds, and because he'd like a change of pace (he doesn't expect his bosses to be any LESS corrupt in Gotham, but at least maybe they'll be new and interesting forms of corrupt, and at this point he'll take that). His new supervisor is liminal as hell and very weird, though. Which is great, actually - this means he can afford to be a little less careful about hiding his ghostliness around the guy. After all, he's liminal enough the GIW would disappear him too. So they've established an unspoken agreement not to mention it, and it's going great. Even though he can't figure out why Officer Wayne keeps staring at him when he thinks Danny's not looking, or why he often asks blatantly stupid questions. Maybe it's a method of trying to signal that he knows what Danny is and knows Danny knows what he is and agrees they have the unspoken agreement? In which case, shut up, guy, you're just drawing attention to us! Unspoken agreements need to be UNSPOKEN! Or maybe he's actually as corrupt as the rest of them, and Danny's stuck in an "enemy of my enemy" situation... It's starting to put Danny on edge. But he's got shit to do. Why the fuck does the GPD keep letting everyone break out of Arkham? He doesn't want to deal with that himself, but he's starting to think the Joker might be liminal at the very least, if not outright a ghost, and the LAST thing he needs is for the local bat colony to realize that and join up with the GIW, or even - Ancients forbid - bring the Justice League down on his and his peoples' heads... The weird supervisor can deal, for now. And Danny can deal with the weird supervisor. It's fine. Probably.

Rookie

Dpxdc Prompt #37

Dick has always considered himself an extrovert, able to make friends with anyone he sets his mind to. He has a way of making people comfortable around him; friends, family, classmates, strangers, and coworkers just to name a few.

Well, maybe not that last one.

The Bludhaven Police Department is the most corrupt workplace he's seen. Ever. And Dick grew up in Gotham City.

Of course, Amy was a doll and the two worked together to try and clean out the place, but when corruption is rooted in that deep there's nothing you can really do except start from scratch. The higher ups would never approve of that though, so the problem kept on growing.

Which is why, when Dick was assigned to supervise a newbie he was, understandably, dreading it.

He was fully prepared for a bigot who wanted to use the power of the police to boss civilians around. He prepared slightly less for someone who wanted to do genuine good, but would probably be driven out of the force within a couple of months.

What he was not prepared for was the whirlwind that was rookie Officer Danny Fenton.

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤

a/n: ——

summary: natasha romanoff x female!reader. based on the movie “the notebook”; you’re allie, nat’s noah

warnings: light smut—fingering (r receiving), weapons (is this something i need to mention? idk lol)

word count: 7k

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

Natasha meeting your family was not on your list of priorities.

In fact, imagining her at dinner with your parents or in your grandparents' living room was enough to make you shudder. The mere idea of her chatting with your mother over a cup of coffee?

Horrendous. A nightmare.

You try to keep her a secret. Your secret. Your summer love, your escape from reality, your something so impossibly out of place in the world you grew up in you're not even sure she's real.

But then, she's leaning against the gate of your grandparents' house again. You'd recognize the red hair and black leather jacket from a mile away. The way she sticks out in the uniform, boring normalcy of your neighborhood is almost offensive.

"No, no, no", you mutter under your breath, throwing the door open. You fly down the stairs and run up to her, silently praying nobody will see you. You grab her arm and yank her away from the gate. "You can't be serious right now-"

"Y/N", your father suddenly calls. You stiffen. "Who's that?"

Slowly, you turn around. Natasha follows your gaze until she's met with the sight of your father. It takes all of her strength not to crack a grin — the ironed pastel polo, the khakis, the loafers that look like he's never walked on actual grass. Way too pristine for a casual evening at home.

You elbow her side when you notice how she raises her eyebrows, but her expression doesn't waver.

"A friend", you say awkwardly, tugging at her arm again. She ignores you. "We're just, uhm..."

"Going for a ride", Natasha finishes unhelpfully.

"Around town."

"Maybe get some ice cream."

"No booze", you add. Your father stares at you, his expression both stoic and amused. "Even though I, uhm, technically-"

"Alright", he finally cuts you off. "What's going on? Is this a date?"

Your face flushes at the blunt question. If he figures this out, you're doomed — your parents insist on meeting every person you go out with. Then, they subject them to scrutiny sharper than police officers grilling suspects. Passing that test is nearly impossible.

You know better than to hope for their approval, especially when it comes to Natasha.

"No!", you blurt out. "She's just- we-"

"I'm a friend", she says, pinching your side. The noise you let out is completely undignified, but at least you stop rambling incoherent nonsense. "Nothing to worry about, sir."

"Right", your father says slowly. He lets his eyes run up and down your body, from head to toe, assessing your appearance. You didn't dress casually, and you know it. His eyes narrow. "Well, if you're going to spend time together, you should come in and introduce her. It's almost dinner time anyway. How does pot roast sound?"

She's enjoying your discomfort much more than she should. Smoothly, she replies that pot roast does sound good. Her eyes meet yours, twinkling teasingly. Suddenly, you envision it happening.

Natasha, surrounded by your parents and grandparents. She'll stick out like a sore thumb. No way are they going to endorse her.

You feel like ripping your hair out.

"We're good", you quickly say, grabbing Natasha's arm. "We'll just-"

"I insist", he says. "Come on."

With that, he opens the gate a little wider and looks at you expectantly. Natasha, ever-charming and professional when necessary, nods and intertwines her hand with yours. You mutter a quiet "traitor" as you're led inside.

The house smells like garlic and the lavender potpourri your grandmother keeps everywhere, which is a disgusting combination. You feel Natasha's fingers brush against your shoulders as she takes off your jacket for you. Your dad watches her as she does that. You can't quite figure out what he's thinking.

"Honey, we've got company", he calls out as you enter the dining room. Your mom pokes her head out of the kitchen, eyeing Natasha warily.

"You are?"

"Natasha, ma'am."

"A 'friend' of Y/N's", your father says. "We'll need another plate."

Your mother scrutinizes Natasha shamelessly. You know she can see every detail, from the scar above her eyebrow to the dirt clinging to her boots. She'll bring it up later.

"Friends", she repeats. Her gaze locks with yours. You lift your chin with an air of defiance. "You're staying for dinner, I assume?"

"Oh, she's not-"

"Nonsense. Sit down", your father says, shooing you to the table.

Natasha swiftly slides a chair back and gestures for you to sit. Cheeks burning, you avoid everyone else's eyes as you sit down. Her hand briefly brushes against yours. At least she's next to you.

Your mother offers Natasha some wine. She declines politely, saying she doesn't drink — a blatant lie, as you had vodka when you were staying at her house. But you're actually relieved. This should at least be something your parents will be impressed by.

Your grandparents don't pay much attention to Natasha. It hasn't even crossed their minds that she could be more than just your friend. You came out years ago, but they've been ignoring that piece of information expertly. It doesn't fit their narrative.

But your parents know what's going on. They keep their eyes on Natasha even as they're picking at their salad or sipping wine. Eventually, your mother clears her throat. A sound you remember from your childhood, one that usually meant trouble. You stiffen in your chair.

"So", she says, setting down her fork and knife. "What do you do, Natasha?"

"A bit of everything", she says. Her eyes don't give much away. You shrink into your seat as you realize that you don't exactly know what she does, either. "You have a lovely home, by the way."

"Oh, thank you." Your mother watches her, eyes narrowed with the realization that Natasha managed to evade her question. She purses her lips. "So-"

"Your daughter is lovely as well", she adds.

You want to sink into the floor.

You spend the rest of the evening trying to steer your parents' attention away from Natasha. Somehow, it works — soon enough, they're talking about friends they saw in town and upcoming church events. You catch your grandmother glance at Natasha's jacket, draped over her chair, repeatedly, but she doesn't comment on it.

You know what's going through their heads, and you don't like it. Thankfully, Natasha is as smooth as can be. She's not too engaged in the conversation, but she appears just interested enough for it to be polite. She laughs at the right moments, she compliments the food, she asks the right questions and gives answers that are too vague to be judged easily.

Finally, you've cleaned off your plates of apple pie. Natasha helps stack the dishes and clean off the table, then you excuse yourselves.

Stepping outside feels like a huge weight falling from your shoulders.

"Dear god", you say, leaning against the trunk of the tree you used to climb when you were a child. Natasha smiles, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket. "I'm done. Seriously. This was a nightmare."

"It wasn't that bad", she says. "They like me, I think."

You raise your eyebrows. "I'm not even going to comment on that."

"Rude." She steps closer, brushing her elbow against your side. You smile faintly. "I think I made a good impression, no?"

"It could've been worse", you admit, though you're not too sure about the 'made a good impression'-thing. Impressing your parents? Nearly impossible. "I'm just glad we got this over with. Next time, pick me up somewhere else."

Natasha leans in, her hands still in the pockets of her jackets. She smirks, brushing her nose against yours before kissing you. A quick kiss, but you feel the thrill shoot through your veins. Kitchen window, you think, then peck her lips before pulling away. You rest your head against the rough bark of the trunk.

Your smile makes Natasha fall in love all over again.

. . .

"What do you mean you 'don't know'?"

You glance up from your book. Your eyebrows are furrowed, your foot is tapping a restless pattern against the firm cushions of the couch. This has been going on for twenty minutes and you're very close to hiding in your room.

"I just don't know, okay? I don't know what she does. She didn't tell me."

Your mother rolls her eyes and puts her hands on her hips. Something white and furry — your grandmother's devil cat named Thoreau — slithers past her legs and disappears into the hallway.

"Y/N", she says, stepping closer. "There's no way you've been going out with that...woman and don't know what she does. Who she is, in fact. I mean, have you looked at her?"

Oh, you have. You know what she's talking about. It makes your frustration spike.

"What's so bad about her, huh?", you snap, shutting your book abruptly. Her eyes widen for a split second. "She's nice. She treats me well. She's smart and funny. I really don't get why you dislike her so much!"

"Excuse me? I never said I-"

"You don't have to say anything!"

"Y/N!" Her voice cuts through the air, sharp and unrelenting. You feel yourself flinch. "Don't use that tone with me. I want to know who she is. Who she really is. Because even you seem to have no clue."

You go silent. Your face falls, revealing how accurate your mother's observation is.

You don't know Natasha. You know her, but you don't know her. What you gathered so far are little pieces of information, minuscule bits, knowledge that won't get you far.

You have no idea where she's from, or why she's in this town, what shes does.

But you know that she loves black coffee and braids, and movies and swimming. She loves falling asleep with her head on your chest, though she usually doesn't sleep through the night.

She counts stars when she doesn't know what to talk about. At night, she crosses streets without looking twice.

She can't draw to save her life. Her sketch of a mouse looked more like a gray circle with legs. But when she used a pen to draw on your arm, you wished the ink would seep into your skin so the drawing would never fade away.

Whether you know the things that actually matter is a question you can't answer.

You shift under your mother's gaze, slowly averting your eyes. Your bottom lip hurts from the way you chew on it. Your fingers lightly dig into your thigh.

"What do you want me to do?", you ask. You sound more petulant than you'd like to admit.

She exhales, willing herself to soften a little. Tentatively, she sits down next to you and takes your book. She stares at the cover as if gathering her thoughts. She tries to remind herself that this is nothing more than a summer romance — something that'll pass eventually. Rather sooner than later, she hopes.

"Talk to her", she says. "Make sure you know what you're getting into. Because you're not about to ruin your life because of one summer."

Her words hit harder than expected. You can tell she's serious, because she always is. You've started to think she's incapable of making jokes.

It all settles in your stomach, makes your thoughts churn. You nod, imperceptibly almost, but your mother notices. She reaches over to squeeze your hand before getting up.

Eyes glued to the cover of your book, you sit there. The image blurs, as does the title.

You've built a fragile, beautiful thing together — and you need answers from Natasha before summer slips away.

. . .

It's a warm summer night. You managed to sneak out at a little after midnight, carefully walking down the stairs and shutting the window behind you. The seat of Natasha's SUV had started to feel familiar as you sat down in her car.

Now, you're back at the lake behind her house. Its surface shimmers in the milky moonlight. The towel creates a barrier between your thighs and the wood of the dock you're sitting on, preventing you from getting splinters. Your toes dip into the water, which is definitely much cooler already. Summer is coming to an end.

She swims up to you so she's right in front of the dock. Her fingertips loosely wrap around your ankle and she presses a kiss to it, her lips cold and wet against your skin. You can't tell whether she knows how your thoughts are racing, how you've been trying to voice your fears for an eternity now.

"Join me", she says, rubbing circles against your skin. Her green eyes seem deeper than the lake she's in.

You tilt your head, your eyebrows raised skeptically. It's tempting, really, but the idea of getting all wet and cold isn't a pleasant one.

"I don't know", you hesitate. "I think I'm fine right here."

Natasha hums and squeezes your ankle. She tugs on it, lightly enough to not make you worry too much. "You say that now...", she then says, quickly causing you to change your mind about not worrying.

With one swift pull, you slip from the dock. The world tilts, you gasp, and suddenly, you're underwater. But you're pulled back up before your panic can take root, her arms around your thighs, the cold water a stark contrast to the heat simmering in your chest. Natasha's smile matches yours.

"Got you."

"I'm wet", you mutter, brushing wayward strands of hair out of your face. She presses her lips against your jaw. Your fingers grasp her chin and you give her a real kiss, a slow and all-consuming one, sweet from the lake water.

Your hands run into her hair, combing through it and untangling it. Her fingertips dig into your thighs. You feel the spinning sensation in your head slow down.

Finally, you part. Your lips hover close to hers, letting you swallow her breath. Natasha kisses your bottom lip and then trails her lips down your neck until she reaches your chest. Her tongue traces the seam of your bikini top.

You stop her before she can go further. Your fingers rake through her hair, making her pause.

"I need to talk to you", you admit. She looks up, worry crossing her features. "It's nothing bad. I think."

"Your parents?", she asks, slowly lowering you into the water. Her arms stay wrapped around your waist in a loose hold.

The smile on your face is bitter. You sigh and touch her jaw, fingers lightly drumming against it. "Kind of", you say. "But also...everything else. Us. This. I mean...summer is about to end. What happens then?"

She should've anticipated this conversation. Summer won't last forever — you'll leave, as will she. Responsibilities loom over her like dark clouds. Suddenly, she sees a future in which she never meets you again.

"I don't know", she murmurs. Her hand slides up and down your back repeatedly, fingertips slipping under the tight fabric of your bikini. "I didn't think about it."

Her words feel like a needle in your chest. You've been awake way too many times, tossing and turning, wondering what your future is going to look like. Whether she's in it as well.

There's no way she's this indifferent to what happens next.

"You didn't?"

"I mean..." She sighs and leans in, her lips briefly pressing against your temple. "Of course I did. In a way. But I've mostly been focused on the now. You're leaving, aren't you? You're going back to college. And I..."

Natasha doesn't say anything else. You look at her with your eyebrows raised, silently promoting her to keep going. You both know what you are doing once summer ends. Where you're going, who you're going to be with, all that stuff.

But Natasha? You have no idea. She won't tell you.

"Listen", she begins, letting go of you. The loss of contact is unbearable. "There are things you're better off not knowing."

"Are you kidding?" You swim closer, the water brushing along your body. Disbelief is written all over your face. "Natasha, please tell me you aren't serious. If it's that bad, you have to tell me. I need to know. I mean, my mom-"

"Is that's what this is about?" Her voice hasn't changed in volume, but the tone is so very different. Cold, biting, accusatory. It makes you stop in your tracks. "Your parents?"

"No!" You exhale and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, willing yourself to not start a fight. "No. Of course not. I don't care what they think. But sometimes, even they are right. Natasha, I need to know. You have to tell me if you want this to keep going."

"Of course I want to keep this going", she snaps. "But what if I tell you and then never hear from you again, huh? You ever thought about that?"

You shake your head and grab her hand. She recoils initially but then relaxes, her eyes locked on your face warily. "We can sort it out. I really don't believe it can be that bad."

Seconds of silence. Her hand twitches in yours and she frowns. When she looks away, it feels like everything has started to slip from your grasp.

"You're naive", she states quietly. Your chest burns with an odd mixture of shame and defensiveness. If only you knew that she isn't trying to insult you — no, this is her attempt at keeping you safe from whatever mess her life is.

She's seen your life. Has met your parents, heard about your upbringing. She knows you're wealthy, a top student at one of the USA's most prestigious universities. Your future is dipped in diamonds and gold, enhanced by glasses of champagne and dinner parties.

Natasha's life is bullets and blood. There's nothing else to be said.

"Stop pushing me away", you plead. She feels her throat constrict. "We can work this out. We can get through this."

"I'm not pushing you away", she argues. "I'm being realistic. There's a difference between the two."

"Maybe it's both", you say, wading closer to her again. "It probably is. But I want to know, Nat."

Stubbornness gives way to exhaustion. She shakes her head and pulls her hand away from yours.

"Not yet", she says weakly. You watch her swim to the latter attached to the dock. Her hands grab the metal bars and she pulls herself up, water dripping off her body. Her skin is smooth in the pale light. Trying to stop her seems futile.

She grabs a towel and wraps herself into it. Her figure retreats towards the house, getting smaller and less defined with each step. You wait for a moment, then you exhale in frustration and follow her inside.

The wooden floors feel slippery underneath your feet. You blindly reach for the light switch only to find out the electricity is gone — again. You don't even bother looking for the flashlight, as you've already memorized the layout of the small house.

"Natasha", you call, not seeing her in the living room. You peek into the bedroom, but it's empty. "For fuck's sake, don't do this!"

Something touches your spine. You whip around with a start. You aren't quite sure what you were expecting, but you should've known it'd be her. She stares at you, making no move to apologize.

"It's late", she says.

You blink, caught off guard for a moment. "What?"

"It's late. You're probably tired."

"Natasha-"

"Let's go to sleep", she says, sounding resolute. You give in.

The mattress is the same, but she changed the bedsheets. They're a navy blue and not as faded as the floral ones, but they're just as soft.

There's a distance between the two of you. Your back is facing her, she's staring at the ceiling. She tries closing her eyes, falling asleep, but it doesn't work. At some point, she rolls over. Her front is flush with your back. Her lips ghost over your shoulder as her arm tentatively wraps around your middle.

You find yourself scooting into the touch.

"Asleep?", she murmurs, her hand under your shirt now.

"No."

Natasha's lips press against the back of your neck. Her breath is warm on your skin and your eyes close automatically. Her hand cups your breast, massaging it gently. You feel goosebumps form all over you.

"Still mad at me?", she whispers, rolling your nipple between her cold fingers. You huff, but the sound morphs into a quiet moan.

"I don't know", you say breathily. Her thumb brushes over the sensitive bud. Suddenly, you're wet again, but this time not because of lake water. "Shit."

Natasha kisses along your neck. Her teeth graze your skin before she sucks on it, leaving love bites behind. "You want to?"

You turn your head, burying your nose in the soft pillow underneath you. It's petulant, in a way, causing Natasha to smile. She kisses your earlobe.

"Yes or no?", she asks. You sigh at the realization that you can either get over yourself and say yes, or disappear into the shower and take care of this yourself.

It's not a hard decision.

"Yes", you mutter. Natasha hums and leaves wet kisses behind your ear, her breath hot.

"You're sure?"

"I said yes, didn't I?"

"I like to double-check", she replies.

Lips against your skin, she slips the strap of your top off your shoulder. Your head lolls back, resting against her forehead. Her hand trails from your arm to your stomach. She undoes the drawstring of your shorts and the gentle pressure around your waist disappears. Her fingers press against your cunt and she breathes into your ear.

You stifle a moan when she slides her fingers through your cunt, gathering wetness. Her fingertips pinch your clit and you let a soft whine slip. Heat spreads on your skin.

"You're so pretty", she mumbles. The kisses on your shoulder turn more feverish, peppered all over you, hot and wet and open-mouthed. You writhe against her, your flushing face hidden in your pillow. Her fingers slip into you, leaving you no time to get used to the sensation. "It'd be a shame if you stayed mad."

You don't respond. Natasha's fingers curl inside of you, hitting that sweet spot and making you even wetter. You're dripping down her wrist, ruining the sheets. Her fingers are slick with your arousal.

A third finger works you open. Waves of pleasure roll down your back and add to the coil in your lower belly. Heat floods your veins and your vision goes blurry. You see stars, but they're oh so different from the ones in the sky.

Natasha's movements slow down right before you're about to come. When you turn your head to look at her and protest, she doubles down and starts moving faster. Surprised moans tumble from your lips, your eyes wide. Her thumb rubs circles on your clit. Her expression remains the same, but you can see her pupils dilate.

Your eyes hold hers as you come, walls clenching around her and cheeks red. Aftershocks buzz through your body.

"Still mad at me?", she mumbles. You feel her lips drag across your jaw.

"A little", you admit, thought your voice, softened and breathy, betrays you. You can feel her smile against your cheek, the gentle curve of her lips, and, weirdly, it hurts not being able to see it. You pull away just enough to look at her.

Sometimes, it feels like her eyes are the only glimpse of her world you're allowed to see. A world she lived in long before she entered yours.

You roll over and rest your forehead against hers. You grasp her hand and bring it up to your lips, kissing her still wet fingers.

"I want to know you", you say quietly. "I don't know if you want me to know you."

"That's..." She hesitates, her voice cracking. "That's not true. It's just not that simple, Y/N."

You watch her with furrowed eyebrows. Slowly, you intertwine your fingers with her. She doesn't waver, doesn't pull away — which is something, at least. But it's not what you were hoping for.

Her green eyes meet yours again. Her world flickers in front of you, blurry and unsteady, too faint to decipher.

"I never asked for simple", you then say. "I'm not simple, either. None of this ever was. I told you from the beginning."

"That's different."

"It's really not."

"It is."

Her voice is louder this time. You let go of her hand and prop yourself up on your elbow, your eyes narrowed. Natasha's eyes are challenging, but she can't hide the vulnerability that shimmers through.

"Don't yell at me", you warn quietly.

"I'm not yelling", she mutters, her gaze shifting away from you. Her jaw tightens with both frustration and guilt. "My point stands. You have a pretentious family. So what? Not the biggest issue I can think of."

You raise your eyebrows and shift to fully sit up. Her words sting — downplaying your struggles is something you didn't expect from her. Apparently, Natasha notices the effect her words had, and she quickly sits up as well.

"You know what I meant. I know it's not easy for you, either, but you've got to understand that things are difficult."

"I can't understand until you explain it to me", you say, growing more frustrated with every second. "What is it, huh? Are you secretly married? Have a kid somewhere? Maybe you killed someone."

The last sentence — one you definitely weren't being serious about — makes her eyes widen.

Guilt. It hits her like a flash flood. Hands stained with blood, so many lives taken, a past she doesn't want to be hers. With you, she thought she could pretend. Push it all away, be someone else for once.

The thought that you may think of her like that — that she's someone who's capable of ending lives — hurts more than it should. Suddenly, she feels like you can sense the darkness she's kept buried for so long.

She sits up abruptly, jaw clenched, hands curling into fists. Seeing her like this does everything but soothe your worries.

"What?", she says quietly. She sounds anguished, hurt, and you're the reason.

Natasha and you stare at each other. You can hear the wind outside, the cicadas, and for the first time ever, the nightly noises don't manage to calm you down. For some reason, they make everything worse.

You don't know how to backtrack, so you don't. You grow more helpless by the second, until she finally speaks again.

"You have no idea what you're talking about", she says. "You don't get to joke about that. It's not funny. Not to me."

"Natasha..."

"I'm serious", she cuts you off. "You don't know who I am. You have no idea. I can promise you that. A few weeks spent with me don't fucking change that."

"Then help me! Explain it to me! But don't just leave me in the dark like this!"

"It doesn't fit into your world, Y/N", she says, suddenly getting up. She starts rubbing her neck — an anxious little mannerism you haven't seen her exhibit yet. "Explaining it won't do anything. It'll only change how you see me, and I don't know if I can deal with that."

"Then what's the solution, hm? You'll keep it from me forever?"

"Forever doesn't exist with us!"

Everything seems to freeze. You were about to get up, but your body seems to have changed its mind. You stay seated on the mattress, staring up at her with disbelief and utter, pure heartbreak.

"Is that what you think?", you ask slowly. Natasha almost winces. "That this will just end?"

"Most likely", she says, taking a step backward. Her hand reaches behind her until she finds the dresser. She grabs its edge, her knuckles turning white. "You don't know what you're asking for, Y/N."

"I'm asking for you", you say, finally managing to get up.

"You're being naive."

"Stop calling me that!"

"It's true!"

"You're yelling again", you warn.

Natasha turns, her back facing you. She rubs the back of her neck as she breathes unevenly.

You hesitate as you stand there. Then, slowly as to not spook her, you reach out. Your fingertips brush against her lower back and she flinches. But she doesn't pull away, so you press your palm against her back. You step closer and press your lips to her shoulder.

"I don't care if it doesn't fit", you mumble, though it's a lie — you do care. You want to be part of her world, whatever it may be like. "I just want to make this work, Nat."

She takes a moment to reply. Her voice is raw, her breathing ragged. She faces you again, her green eyes filled with something bitter.

"You think you can just fix everything?", she asks. "Just waltz in and make everything better? Because it doesn't work like that."

"I don't want to fix anything", you say quietly. Your other hand touches her waist, and to your surprise, she leans into you. You study her, wary and careful. "I just want to understand."

"You can't understand until you know everything", Natasha says. "And I don't think you want to know everything."

You stare at her, eyes flickering with concern. It's not like your life has been perfect, or that you've been shielded from everything that isn't all sunshine and daisies, but you can't imagine what could possibly be this bad.

"I don't want everything", you say. "I want you."

Natasha goes rigid for a moment. Then she relaxes, muscles loosening and shoulders slumping. Like a cat landing on a stretched out blanket, you catch her. She buries her face in your neck, her body held upright by your arms around her waist. You can feel her breathe you in.

You smell like her.

. . .

The rain is heavy. It soaks through your clothes and leaves the ends of your hair dripping. You barely make it into Natasha's car without slipping.

"You're wet again", she says, handing you a blanket. "No umbrella?"

You wipe the water out of your face and snort. "No. Forgot to grab it."

"Could've gone back inside."

The look you throw at her shuts her up. She starts the car and drives out of the neighborhood. Only the pelting of the rain on the roof fills the silence between you.

You've never been like this with each other. Until now, it was easy. But that's the way it is, right? Things are easy until they aren't anymore.

"Where are we going?", you ask, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders. You lift one corner of it to pat your hair dry.

"Just driving", she mumbles. Her knuckles are tight around the steering wheel, her eyes focused on the road, but you can tell there's more.

You don't say anything. You just lean back and enjoy being the one who gets to play passenger princess, even if your clothes are sticking to your skin. You drive through your favorite part of town — the cute little corner with the bookshop and the park full of flowers —, then Natasha suddenly takes a turn.

You recognize the neighborhood, but she hasn't taken you here before.

"Huh", you mumble, staring out the window. You're slumped into the seat lazily. "New location unlocked?"

"Something like that."

In front of a bed and breakfast, she stops. She unbuckles and gets out, nodding at you to follow her. Despite your confusion, you don't hesitate.

Inside the building, it's warm and quiet. It smells like cookies and flowers; freshly picked ones, sitting on the counter next to the staircase. The steps creak under your feet as you go upstairs.

Natasha fishes another key out of her pocket and unlocks a door. The room that appears in front of you is exactly what you expected — corny grandma-bedsheets on top of a wooden bed, with pictures of cats on the walls and a plush rug.

"I don't understand", you murmur, brushing your hand over little notebook on the desk. It's for the guests to write in. "What is this?"

"I'm staying here", she says, digging through a backpack, "until I leave."

You pause, your eyes flickering up. For some reason, you thought Natasha would always be here. Even after you go back to college. Like a safe place you could retreat to whenever the world becomes too much.

A very selfish thought, but a comforting one nevertheless.

"You...you don't live here", you say slowly, as if realizing it for the first time. Which may or may not be very accurate. "You're leaving. You're leaving?"

"I am."

Your eyes widen as she keeps pulling stuff out of the backpack and putting it aside. A gun. A taser. Some kind of earpiece. Your heart starts rabbiting in your chest, but you force yourself to stay calm.

"Uhm-"

"You said you wanted to know me, didn't you?" She turns around. Her eyes are cold and her walls are up. "This is me. This —" She pulls another weapon, which looks like an odd sort of bracelet, out of her backpack, "this is me. This."

You laugh nervously. Part of you won't believe this is real. It has to be some kind of joke. But Natasha is completely serious.

She wraps the bracelet around her wrist and clicks on it. It tightens around her wrist and lights up. You take a step back and bump against the door. Her eyes meet yours, and for a split second, the facade slips. You see it — a deep, unrelenting sadness, the kind that comes with inevitability, the quiet acceptance of something she knew would happen but hoped never would.

"Does it fit?", she prompts you.

You frown and take a stubborn step closer. You're trying hard not to let it show, but your heartbeat is still racing. "Natasha, don't-"

"You wanted to know who I am", she cuts you off. "This is me."

"I don't care", you plead, stepping closer once more. This time, it's Natasha who takes a step back. "I said I wanted to know you. I still do. I want to know you, whatever that means."

"Y/N", she says quietly. "Nobody wants to know me. I can promise you that."

"I do", you say, stubborn and frantic. "You've been keeping this from me for two months, and I still want to know you."

"I've been keeping it from you for a reason."

She has a point. If she'd pulled out a gun on your first date, you would've bolted.

But now? For some reason, you're still here. Still trying to get her to listen, despite the fact that there are multiple weapons scattered across the floor. Suddenly, the scars on her body make more sense. The bruises, the healed cuts. You've learned to love them. The way you trace them with your lips is proof enough.

But with Natasha, you didn't have to learn. It just happened — one day, you looked at her and loved her.

Even now, you do.

"Why would you do that?", you ask, both baffled and understanding her point. "Why would you keep something like this from me?"

"Because this?" She laughs, her voice tinged with bittersweet regret. "This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to fall in love, Y/N. Things usually end before I do, anyways. But I fell in love with you."

The words wash over you like waves. For a moment, everything stops — the rain outside, your thoughts, your pulse. All you can do is stare at her, her words echoing in your mind.

"So what?", you suddenly shout, even surprising yourself. "You fall in love and leave because it 'wasn't supposed to happen'? Is that it?"

You breathe heavily, the words burning in your chest. You bite back tears, your jaw clenching.

"We'll just walk away when it's too much?", you continue. You're no longer trying to control your voice, so it keeps rising. "Pretend it never happened?"

"You don't get it", she snaps. "This isn't a fairytale. Fuck, all I wanted was someone to help me take my mind off things."

"And you got that, didn't you?" Full of anger and frustration, you grab the backpack and shove it against her chest. She doesn't falter, even when you keep pushing your fists against her. Your tears and sobs are silent. "You got that damn fling. Now you can leave, huh? Leave everything in pieces!"

She recoils slightly, then she shoves the backpack off her with more force than you expected. It hits the ground with a low thud.

"That's now what this was!", she says, her voice cracking. "You're not just a fling, Y/N. Which is exactly why I need to end this."

"You're not making any sense!"

"I'm not?", she yells. She whips around and grabs her wallet. Suddenly, you've got an ID card in your hand. "Here! Am I making sense now?"

You're too stunned to speak. Your eyes are glued to the card in your hand, rereading the words, trying to understand what's going on.

SHIELD. Field operative. Special agent.

The words swim around in your brain uselessly. You're not sure you've heard of any of this before.

"You...?"

"I'm a spy", Natasha says sharply. She grabs the card and puts it away again, hiding it in her purse. "I'm an assassin."

That does the trick. Every word is wiped from your supply of smartass remarks, your knees seem to buckle for a moment, you go completely quiet. You grab the desk next to you for support, leaning on it.

There's a silent challenge to the way she's looking at you. Chin slightly raised, her eyes filled with an unusual coldness. Her fair skin is even paler than usual.

"An assassin", you repeat, voice cracking.

"Yes", she says, watching you with a mixture of regret and defiance. "Former assassin, but...that doesn't change anything. It's what I am. What I've always been. I'm a trained killer, Y/N."

You stare at her as you try to wrap your head around this. Natasha, the woman you love — the one who kissed your forehead when you were sleepy, who read books to you — is a killer.

"You're a killer", you repeat, as if that'd make it easier to grasp. It doesn't. The words feel bitter on your tongue, strange and foreign.

Natasha doesn't move, doesn't say anything. Her mask falters. What you see now is raw pain.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this."

"You're sorry?" You let out a hollow laugh, but deep down, you want to sob. "How was I supposed to find out, huh? 'Hey, by the way, I killed people'? Fuck, Nat, I...fuck."

She crosses her arms and takes another step back. Her legs bump against the bed. Outside, the rain starts pouring heavily.

"I thought I could keep it separate", she admits, her voice quieter now. You close your eyes at the sound of it and resist pulling her into you like you've done so many times. "That I could pretend I'm someone else when I'm with you."

Your hands ball into fists. You squeeze your eyes shut.

"It didn't work", she continues, softening. "You made me feel more like myself than anyone ever could."

When you open your eyes again, they're glossed over with tears. You exhale slowly, shakily, and force yourself to look at her.

"This isn't fair", you whisper. "It really, really isn't. You don't get to make me fall in love only to do...this."

"I told you", Natasha says quietly, "I didn't plan for this to happen. I just didn't want to be alone."

"Well, there you are." You laugh bitterly and scrub a hand down your face. "All of this just to end up alone again. You happy now?"

"Y/N, I never wanted to hurt you."

"But you did!" You step closer, the anger pulsing through your body. You can feel how warm your face is. "You hurt me. You hurt yourself, too. You screwed up, just admit it!"

"Fine!", she yells. "I screwed up!"

"You did!", you shout. The tears start flowing, hot and damp. Natasha's heart gives a painful twist at the sight. "You screwed up, and you hurt me, and you, and I- I- god, fuck you!"

Her hand reaches out on instinct, but her outstretched fingers never even brush against your arm.

"Don't", you hiss, pushing her hand away. "Don't touch me. Not now."

She pulls back and swallows, her eyes darting away from you.

"I'm sorry", she says.

The words linger in the air. You stand there, trying to slow your breathing. You cover your face with your hands and inhale raggedly. The tears feel warm against your palms.

"This is it?", you ask numbly. "We're done?"

"I'm sorry", she repeats. You shake your head and wipe your face with your hands.

"Fuck you", you repeat. You step away from the door, open it, and slam it shut before Natasha can react.

She stays in the bedroom, frozen in place. Her eyes are glued to the door.

Gone. Gone are two months of whatever it is you two had.

The lake, the diner, the drive-in. Nights spent buried in each other, bodies so close it was unclear where one ended and the other began.

She should feel relief. At least she doesn't have to live a lie anymore — now, you know the truth. You've walked away and she's the one left standing alone. And worst of all?: She deserves it.

The rain continues to pour outside, but inside the room, there is nothing but the quiet of the aftermath.

[shyamanuensis]

Break Ups - boyfriend!series

It’s a week before Valentine’s Day and you’ve decided to pull the pin on your relationship. This is how your now ex would handle it…

𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔥 -

♥︎ “Who?” It’s the way he answers whenever someone asks him where you are or what’s happened between the two of you. Does he want to talk about it? No. Will he ever? Absolutely not. It’s fairly obvious the two of you ended not on great terms - for the last week he’s gone out of his way to avoid you as if you’re carrying a medieval plague and rolls his eyes whenever your name is mentioned. Mature - real mature.

♥︎ Although he acts as if the breakup hasn’t affected him, once it actually sinks in (this takes a week or so), he can’t help but cry himself to sleep. Leander thought it would be a one-off thing, but no - he’s caught Garreth for 4 nights in a row now with teary eyes half asleep clutching at his pillow for temporary comfort and warmth.

♥︎ Party animal? Sort of. In the last week, he’s turned up to classes with hangovers the size of Hogsmeade and managed to sling back more shots than the entire of Gryffindor house combined. Does it make him feel better? Hell no - but at least now he’s not crying himself to sleep at night.

♥︎ That ball happening at the end of the month? The one you were meant to be going to together as a Hogwarts power couple - yeah he’s already asked another girl to take your place as his date. He couldn’t bring himself to actually see it through though so on the night, he ditches her and tries one last attempt at getting you to slip into that figure-hugging dress he spent hours upon hours having to hear you rave and ponder over walking between the 19 different stores you were determined to try everything on in.

♥︎ Could you return to being just friends? Perhaps. It takes a while. There’s a level of trust and understanding you both need to work through, but his greatest challenge when the two of you start talking again is remembering the fact he can’t just take hold of your hand whenever he wants to.

𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔰 -

♥︎ Aloof. Apathetic. Absentminded. Yeah that boys not on another planet but in another universe altogether. It makes it easier though - well as least that’s what he’s told his friends. The less opportunity he has to think about or run into you, the quicker he’ll mend.

♥︎ Irrespective of his attempt at forgetting you; he’s also tried to ask for forgiveness. Was he the reason the two of you ended things? Who really knows, but he’s got the moral mindset instilled within him that a true gentleman apologizes so he does the only way he knows how to. Flowers. Which would be sweet, but he’s enchanted them to not leave you alone until you finally accept their presence and place them in a vase of water.

♥︎ That gift he’d brought you for your birthday in a few months time? You still get it. Returning it would be a hassle and he’s convinced that it would be a waste for something so carefully curated and selected to go to anyone else.

♥︎ Does he date again? No. At least not for a while. Well until after graduation. Is he fine with you dating? Of course. He’s only ever wanted to see you happy; but can he bring himself to go through a potential heartbreak all over again for the sake of romantic and intimate company - no. Not while your lack of presence still haunts him.

♥︎ Out of habit; he’ll still pull your chair out for you to take a seat or open a door so that you can walk right through without having to lift a finger. He’s the perfect trope of a gentleman through and through and won’t let this roadblock in the friendship the two of you had before dating ruin his behaviour towards you.

𝔰𝔢𝔟𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔞𝔫 -

♥︎ How is his life going? If you ask him absolutely amazing. He’s free, he’s single, he’s ready to mingle. Has he taken that photo of you out of his wallet yet? No. That’s not going anywhere.

♥︎ Speaking of being single, he’s managed to make out with a dozen other women in the last 7 days by using nothing other than his pure charm to win them over but has he slept with any of them? Eh - no. He secretly likes the fact that his bedsheets still smell like you.

♥︎ Dueling has become a bit of a problem. He’s what others are calling volatile and aggressive. Lucan and Hecat have both spoken to him about toning it down but the words have gone in one ear and out the other. That last confringo he cast sent 2 students to the infirmary and almost burnt down the clocktower.

♥︎ The reason those other boys who have approached you once have never spoken to you again? Yeah that reason is Sebastian. He’s managed to threaten all but one into staying away from you. The one he didn’t threaten merely needed a dirty look shot his way.

♥︎ How long does the grieving process last for a Sallow some may ask? Oh it’s never longer than 14 days. Why? Because by this stage you’ve both come back to your senses and have realised that you’re like oxygen to fire and that the mutual level of unhinged passion which burns between you both is the reason you’re back beneath him in bed; craving the way his hands, lips, and tongue feel against your body. Fuck - fuck - fuck.

ps: thanks to @slytherinlives for the chat regarding this and @eva-fitzgerald for putting up with my brainstorming.

[star-suh]

The Cabin in The Woods

Johnny Suh x Male Reader

an: this is a short one.

—

johnny and his boyfriend planned to go on vacation to one of those cozy cabins in the woods, where you would be surrounded by wildlife and plants and the sounds of nature that could help to calm down even the most stressed person, “this would be a relaxing weekend” yn says with joy. but this plan soon would be scrapped because johnny’s hornyness augmented when he saw his dear boyfriend in black shorts and a sleeveless white shirt, “let’s go for a swim” yn said while running towards the lake but johnny just stood there, sitting with his mouth open and looking over his black glasses, “the fuck” he murmured. like a deer in headlights johnny kept watching yn swimming, how that white shirt sticked to his wet body, is like the shirt became transparent by how much of yn’s skin could be seen through the fabric. johnny was flustered to say the least, his little friend down there slowly grew in size “why you have to be so hot yn” he exclaims, “fuck!!” he yells while running towards the lake too. he jumps on it and splashes everywhere including yn, “someone’s eager to swim” yn jokes but then he chokes on his words when johnny emerged from under the water, now the tables were turned, this time yn is the one being in awe at johnny’s figure seeing through that piece of fabric, his sexy chest and toned abs… damn, such a fine man.

the couple tried to brush the obvious sexual tension with some games like swimming races or who could last more under the water, in one of these rounds is when yn managed to see johnny’s thick meat bulging in between his laughs, this made him open the mouth and by consequence he drank some water causing him to choke and go quickly to the surface to cough it out “oh my…. what the fu-”. “are you okay?” johnny asked, worried by yn’s well being, “what happened?”, “i think i saw a monster down there” he replies, “don’t be dumb yn” johnny said a bit annoyed, “don’t joke with those things”. minutes passed since that incident and the atmosphere turned a bit awkward but the older couldn’t take it anymore swimming towards the floatie in where yn was resting, proceeding to steal a kiss from yn who opens his eyes in surprise “what-” he says confused but johnny didn’t let him process what just happened when his tongue was already deep in yn’s mouth. johnny’s kisses were always rough and messy, something that yn liked, how the other man moves his tongue inside in the right places, that would be enough for yn to cum.

things escalated quickly when johnny got yn off the floatie and started humping on his wet clothed ass, drawing little sobs from yn who was biting his lower lip, “come here” johnny uses his big hand to move yn’s head closer and kiss him again. his meat getting bigger and bigger down there, yn could swear that thing would rip the fabric of the shorts apart by how massive it was, “do you want it?” johnny asks lowly, yn nodded “yes sir”, “that’s what i thought” the taller one says happily.

they didn’t bother to discard all their clothes completely, johnny just took off the sleeveless shirt and yn just the shorts and underwear, “you went commando?” yn asked when he saw johnny pulling his dick out by one of the leg openings, “i like it better without underwear” he winked at his lover. yn was now folded in a mating press with johnny pummeling into him, his big balls slapping against yn’s ass. “tight as always” johnny whimpered while yn tried to not cum right away. johnny’s meat went up and down, slicked in their fluids and some spit. “sho deep…” a dumbfucked yn murmurs, in this position johnny easily managed to fuck yn’s prostate, abusing it to the point he just goes dumb. “cum for me ynnie, cum on my dick” johnny commands, stroking yn’s dick that after some rubbings spurted his spunk everywhere including johnny’s chin, he cleaned it with his thumb and licks it “sweet as always”.

johnny didn’t stop fucking yn in that position until he reached his orgasm, nutting inside, “that was wild” he admits while gasping for some air, “yeah” yn barely speaks, his chest heaving up and down rapidly, is like johnny fucked the air out of him. the older then kneels and starts moving his tongue up and down yn’s hole and then putting it inside, “johnny what the hell?” yn mewled, pushing johnny’s head deeper with his hand, “i just wanna eat some cream” he says with a sweaty face, his hair sticked to his forehead and the surroundings of his mouth and the tip of his nose smeared in a mix of saliva and nut, “you know how much i love to creampie you but sometimes i wonder how it would taste it, but know i know” his smile with that disheveled hair and fucked up face made yn came once again, “you’re quite the milk fountain” johnny sad while nuzzling yn’s balls with his nose, “god i fucking love you so much” he says and stands up to kiss yn, “i love you too” he responds. the couple spend the rest of the day sleeping with yn cockwarming johnny’s cock.

[suzukiblu]

Day seven and the final day of February’s first weekly WIP behind the cut; “the puzzle trap sex-room”. content warnings: past grooming, past sexual abuse, past statutory rape, past dubious consent, CURRENT unhealthy coping mechanisms, immediate fallout of sex pollen/death trap-induced sexual coercion, and a POV character who does not understand what the problem with any of that is, he’s FINE, Jesus, lay off already and let him live his life. and like, definitely internalized victim-blaming that said POV character is not actually recognizing as that. So uh, you know, just Kon’s … entire pre-YJ dating history, pretty much? Pretty much that, yeah. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Superboy just feels so gross right now. He feels so gross and so stupid and it tasted gross and Robin wouldn't stop yanking his fucking hair no matter how fucking hard he tried to do a good job for him and then Robin called him a fucking whore while he was trying to save his fucking life and didn’t even say he did a good job and–and–

And Robin’s not some random-ass civilian or asshole supervillain, Robin’s–they've met before. They’ve worked together before, at least a couple times. They’d both literally saved each other’s stupid lives before tonight, even. Like, more than once, even! Superboy didn’t decide to get his stupid little hopeless-ass crush on him out of, like, all the fucking nonexistent publicity photos and paparazzi shots of the guy, for fuck’s sake; they actually know each other. Like–at least enough to have saved each other’s lives and like, significant chunks of both Gotham and Hawaii. 

And even after all that–even after all that, Robin still thinks he's not worth being nice to even when he actually wants to fuck him. Not worth using a condom for or listening to when he asks him not to do stuff or when he asks if they can do something different or–or–wouldn't settle for the fucking handjob, wouldn't tell him he had fucking condoms, wouldn't stop yanking his fucking hair–Robin thinks he's a mouthy bitch and a whore, but he wouldn't even let him have a stupid condom. The condoms he specifically carries to give to people, even–he'll give them to stupid drunk people and prostitutes who should've packed their fucking own, yeah, to any other kind of whore, but not to him. Robin doesn't care if he gets sick or if he just doesn't wanna get fucking come in his mouth or on his face or–or–Robin carries those for people, not–not–

Robin didn’t even kiss him first. 

But Tana’s nice to him, even though he’s so stupid that he can’t even figure out why everybody else is always so fucking mean.

Tana’d care if he got sick or felt gross or–or any of that shit. Any time he feels bad, she always makes him feel better, even when it’s over really stupid shit; even when it’s over nothing at all and she has to explain to him why he shouldn’t even be upset or–or whatever. Even when he’s made her really mad again and disappointed her again and–and–

Tana cares if he gets better or not, and nobody else even thinks he can.

And she doesn’t treat him like a fucking kid, either. Everyone else treats him like a kid, but only when they want to shut him up or ignore his opinion or what the fuck ever. Never–never for any other reason. Never for anything–else. 

At least if people wanted to treat him like a kid, they could be fuckin’ consistent about it. They could be, like–literally anything except whatever was most convenient for them at the time, whether he had any opinions about it or not. He wouldn’t even–he wouldn’t even really care about somebody doing that, he’s pretty sure, if they were just fuckin’ consistent about it. 

He doesn’t know why–like, that’s not a–he doesn’t–just, if they were consistent, then–if people treated him like a kid and were just–just–

But they don’t. Nobody does. 

So nobody fucking gets to. 

“Just–take a breath, Kid,” Superman says, because he apparently thinks he fucking gets to, the asshole. 

He doesn’t get to, though, so Superboy just grabs every light fixture he can feel in the whole stupid cave and disassembles them all. And it doesn’t even matter, obviously, because fucking Superman has fucking infrared vision anyway, but that’s not the fucking point. 

He just doesn’t want any of these assholes looking at him like that anymore.

[cheshireliam]

Kagari Amagase 1st Birthday Campaign: Story

His POV Story

"I Want The Princess"

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

I stood on the battlefield, washed off the blood and headed to my secondary residence.  

…

The instant I stepped inside, I collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut. 

Like always, I felt lightheaded and couldn’t think straight.

However, the book laying on my desk caught my eye.

The cover of the book was decorated with a rose motif, a flower rare in Kogyoku. 

I crawled closer to the book and reached for it.

When I opened the cover, a piece of paper with text written in the Princess’ penmanship fell out and landed on my face.  

Those were various detailed annotations about the book’s contents. 

A pure desire to enjoy the book came right to me.

(My birthday…)

(It was my first time.)

…

Nobleman: Happy birthday, Prince Kagari. I wish you a joyful and prosperous year ahead.

Kagari: Oh. 

This year too, there was a snaking line of people outside the castle for my birthday. 

I received countless birthday greetings, but I didn't know the appropriate response to them. 

(Everything is different from when I was still part of the royal family. There are so many things I don’t understand.)

Back in the day, my birthdays were simple, ending with a congratulatory speech from the King. 

My older brother had countless people celebrating his birthday and even had a banquet held for him, but that wasn't the case for me — his younger brother. 

No one ever doubted it because the difference between me and my older brother, who possessed remarkable capabilities that made everyone around have high expectations for him, was like night and day.

(But… thinking about it now, I wish I’d at least gotten one dorayaki.)

(... Hm?)

At the very end of the line — a familiar figure was standing under a cherry blossom tree in the distance. 

My body moved on its own before I even realised it. 

Kagari: You’re wide open, Princess. 

The Princess reacted exaggeratingly in surprise. I put a hand over her mouth and dragged her into the shade.

Emma: Mmph…! 

I pinned her struggling body against a tree trunk before closing the distance between us to avoid drawing the attention of the people nearby.

(She’s still as weak as ever, like she could die any moment.) 

Kagari: Do you promise to behave?

I took my hand off her mouth and she nodded.

Emma: … What are you doing here, Prince Kagari?

Kagari: I saw you.

Emma: So you came to see me?

Kagari: You called me here.

(Maybe.)

Her fidgeting near the line must mean she wants to see me, right? 

Kagari: If you were planning to join the line, don’t bother.

Kagari: It won’t end until nightfall.

Emma: That long…?

Kagari: There’s a banquet tonight. That’ll go on till dawn. 

Kagari: So, why are you here?

The Princess’ eyes darted around awkwardly.

It was suspicious behaviour, she looked very uneasy, as though she was hiding something she wanted to say.

Emma: … Um… there were so many people gathered, and I got curious…

She hid the bag she was holding behind her back.

Given today’s occasion and the Princess’ personality, the answer is obvious.

(She’s hesitant to celebrate my birthday.) 

(Is this really something to agonise about?)

(... I don’t really get it, but this is fine.)

(It doesn't matter whether I receive birthday greetings or not…)

(But spending my birthday with her might actually be more enjoyable.)

(I’ll take her along for the customary inspection.)

…

Dressed as one of the Yasha’s subordinates, the Princess pointed an imitation sword at the assassins. 

I couldn’t help but be secretly impressed as I watched from atop a roof.

(She’s gotten more used to things compared to when she first arrived in Kogyoku.)

(Even though it’s only an imitation sword, she’s learnt how to point one at others.) 

(With that amount of guts, she’ll have no problem surviving in Kogyoku. Full marks for her.) 

(Also… the clothes my subordinates wear really suit her.)

I stared absentmindedly at her exposed nape, where her hair was tied up in a single knot.)

(I remember Matias saying something about this before.)

(“The nape, usually hidden by her hair, is the most valuable”.)

At that time, I thought he was purely spouting weird nonsense, but I understand now. 

(It’s so slender, I feel like biting it— wait, what? Why do I want to bite it?

(No idea. I’ll ask Matias next time.)

(If this is something that requires some brains, I’ll ask Azel.) 

While I was lost in thought, the assassin placed their hands on the hilt of their swords. 

Before they could unsheath their swords ever so slightly, I jumped down and swung my sheathed sword. 

The impact was solid, and all the assassins’ eyes rolled back as they fell unconscious. 

Had I drawn my sword, their heads would have flown off their shoulders. 

(Weak.)

Kagari: That was easy. I hoped they’d at least be good enough for me to draw my sword.

As I turned around feeling disappointed, the Princess was in the midst of sheathing the imitation sword.

Before the blade fully went into the scabbard, I moved closer and held her slender hand. 

Kagari: Princess, you need to adjust the angle of your stance. 

Emma: I see…

Kagari: Also, never hunch your back on a battlefield.

Emma: I never noticed I was doing that.

Kagari: Exactly. Even though you’re dressed like one of my subordinates, you’re weak.

Emma: … I’m sorry. 

Cat: Nyaa… 

While I was guiding her for future use, I heard a meowing sound coming from next to my feet. 

It was the stray cat I had an undesirable, yet inseparable relationship with. 

Kagari: Ah, give me a minute.

I folded a piece of paper with instructions on how to deal with the men lying on the ground and handed it to the cat. 

It gave a delighted meow as it took the paper in its mouth and scurried off. 

Emma: What was that…?

Kagari: Calico No.1.

Kagari: It often roams the streets. So if you ever need to contact me, you can count on it for that.

Emma: So instead of a carrier pigeon… you have a carrier cat.

Kagari: Yeah. 

(This guy’s more temperamental than a pigeon, though.)

Emma: About the piece of paper you gave it earlier on…

Kagari: I summoned my subordinates. It’s a hassle to clean up this mess. 

I stood up and looked down at the amateurish assassins lying on the ground. 

The Princess looked eager for an explanation, almost to the point she was getting restless. 

(They’re no more significant than random passersby, but…) 

Kagari: This is a “gift” I receive on my birthday every year, amidst the celebrations. 

Kagari: I was looking forward to a more challenging opponent, but I got disappointed this year too.

The Princess frowned at my blunt response.

(Is she angry?)

(Weird. It doesn't even concern her.)

(Maybe this is something “strange” to the Princess?)

(When you come from a different place, what’s common and what’s not changes. That's interesting.)

(What’s common knowledge to me, might not be so common to her.) 

…

Night fell as usual, and it was time for the banquet.

Savouring the enjoyable time we had together, I parted ways with the Princess. 

Soon after, the ever so hardworking Calico No.1 came with a letter in its mouth.

…

I went to the cherry blossom tree where I sometimes admired the flowers with the Princess, and the sender of that letter looked clearly pleased to see me. 

Feeling comforted by her reaction, I sat down next to her under the tree. 

Emma: Has the banquet ended?

Kagari: Not yet.

Emma: You managed to slip away.

Kagari: Your summon is more important.

Cat: Nyaa 

(Is it asking for a reward?)

I gently petted the cat that had been nuzzling itself against my leg and it left like it was never there. 

Heartless cat. 

(Right now, the Princess is more important than Calico No.1.)

Kagari: You changed your clothes.

Emma: Yes, I wanted to meet you as my usual self.

Emma: If I’m going to celebrate your birthday, I want to do it as the version of me you met in Kogyoku.  

Kagari: … 

(Is this what she meant when she said she “wanted some of my time after the banquet”?)

Emma: Happy birthday, Prince Kagari.

The Princess, who had been hesitant about wishing me a happy birthday this morning, presented me with a cherry blossom-patterned package.

I accepted the package, unwrapped it, and took out what was insides

Kagari: A book? 

Emma: It’s a storybook from Rhodolite. 

(It’s my first time receiving a book as a birthday gift. I’m feeling uneasy.)

Kogyoku’s Yasha was thought by others to only wield swords and never read books. 

But in truth, I don’t dislike reading. 

Emma: You’ve taught me many wonderful things about Kogyoku. 

Emma: It’s thrilling to discover new things about the world that I’ve never known before, so…

Emma: I chose this book because I want you to experience that thrill too. It’s one of my favourites. 

Emma: … And, if possible, I thought it might help convey Rhodolite’s charm too…

Kagari: The book is set in Rhodolite?

Emma: That’s right! It’s a collection of heartwarming short stories.

Emma: It’s the perfect remedy for when you’re feeling worn out.

Kagari: I almost forgot you’re a book merchant.

(I thought it’s just like any other book, but this one’s carefully chosen by the Princess.)

Knowing the amount of thought put into the gift made it much more significant. 

Kagari: You’re probably the only one who’d think of giving me a book. 

(I’ve decided. I’ll make this a family heirloom.)

I stared at the cover, flipped through the pages, and briefly scanned through the text. 

It doesn't seem like I’ll be running into any trouble if I end up with too much free time for a while. 

Emma: … I’m relieved I could properly celebrate your birthday. 

I looked up when she suddenly spoke.

The Princess heaved a sigh of relief, like she had been holding her breath for a while. 

Kagari: You’re overthinking it. I’d never find it bothersome to be celebrated. 

Emma: But your detached reaction to all the greetings and gifts made me rather worried that you would. 

Kagari: … Did I come off that way?

(I didn't realise. No wonder the Princess hesitated.)

I closed the book and lowered my gaze. 

Kagari: It’s not that I dislike being celebrated, or that I’m uninterested in birthdays.

Kagari: It’s just… I still don’t know what I should be feeling when I’m being celebrated.

Kagari: It’s been a recent problem for me.

Never had I ever imagined that not having extravagant birthday celebrations like my older brother did would someday become a source of my troubles. 

(Receiving a celebration particularly from her is complicated.)

(... I feel restless, and it’s hard to even look her in the eyes.)

(Is this the correct feeling I should be getting? What kind of emotion is this?) 

As I sat there in silence, full of uncertainty, a gentle breeze blew. 

Petals from the cherry blossom tree that was in bloom all year round danced in the air and fluttered down. 

The Princess, whose attention had been constantly focused on the Yasha until now, suddenly turned her gaze toward the cherry blossoms.

Emma: It’s beautiful. 

(…)

The restlessness turned into something murky. 

(... Not going to look at me anymore?)

(You’re so heartless.)

I grabbed a fistful of the Princess’ skirt. 

It was a spontaneous gesture. 

Emma: Prince Kagari?

(Why must I lose her to some cherry blossoms?)

Kagari: You’ve been thinking about my birthday all day long, and now you’re completely mesmerised by cherry blossoms? 

Emma: Of course I’m still thinking about your birthday. 

Emma: I just think that it looks as though the cherry blossoms are celebrating too… 

Kagari: Just you celebrating it is enough. Don’t look away. 

For some reason, the Princess reacted to my vent with a gentle smile. 

Kagari: … What are you smiling about?

Emma: It’s nothing. 

(I’m curious… but this doesn't feel so bad.)

I felt my facial expression soften, and the Princess turned her gaze to the cherry blossoms once again.

My grip on the fabric of her skirt tightened. 

Emma: … I planned to only give you your gift, but we ended up talking for quite a while.

Emma: Shouldn’t you return to the banquet soon, Prince Kagari?

Kagari: …

(I don't want to.)

(I want her to celebrate my birthday, more than the banquet.) 

(But somehow, even though they’re all celebrations, something feels different.)

I retraced the day’s events, recalling each and every one of the Princess’ words and trying to pinpoint the cause of my restlessness. 

(If there is a difference… it’d be that everyone else’s celebrations are nothing more than mere formalities.)

(You could say they have ulterior motives, wanting to gain the Yasha’s favour and protection.)

(But the Princess’ celebration doesn't have any of that.) 

(... This is the first time I’m receiving a sincere birthday celebration.)

Kagari: Princess, don’t you want to keep the Yasha all to yourself?

Emma: I think I’ve already monopolised you enough. 

(It’s not enough.)

(... I want more)

Kagari: … Stay here.

Emma: Then… I’ll take you up on the offer.

Emma: Can I continue celebrating your birthday for a little while longer? 

Kagari: Yeah. 

Hearing the word “celebrate” from her lips made me restless again. 

(Could this restless feeling be… bashfulness?) 

(... Am I actually feeling bashful because she’s celebrating my birthday?) 

(That’s a first. I learned something new today.)

Kagari: If you want to celebrate, do it. I can’t guarantee I’ll make it to my next birthday.

Emma: … I don't like such jokes.

Kagari: I’m not joking. But rest assured that I want you to celebrate my birthday over and over again.

(It’d be nice if there’ll be a “next”.) 

(... I want to feel bashful again. I want to experience this feeling even more.)

(I want to get to know this restlessness better.)

(When I’m with her… my emotions come alive.)

…

When I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by darkness.

(... Did I fall asleep?)

As I regained consciousness, I realised I was holding a book in my arms.

I heard a faint sound of gentle breathing coming from next to me.

I shifted my gaze in its direction to see Calico No.1 laying there with its belly facing up, looking completely defenseless.

(It's getting better at hiding its presence and becoming more shameless too.)

(Who exactly does that remind me of?)

Careful not to wake Calico No.1, I picked up the book and opened it while laying down. 

Even though I had already finished it and remembered its contents, my eyes didn't stop following the text.

The stories were set in a peaceful country called Rhodolite. 

The Princess, born in that kind of country, was honest, straightforward, and her existence dazzling bright. 

(That makes sense.)

On my birthday — when I received those empty, soulless birthday greetings from the crowd, the Princess looked like she couldn't stand it any longer and took my hand.

Under the cherry blossom tree, her smile was like a flower in full bloom and she celebrated the Yasha’s birthday genuinely from the heart.

(She has a beautiful heart.)

(And yet, she unhesitatingly held these hands of mine that have been stained with blood of the people I’ve killed and even gave me her blessings.)

(Ah…)

(... I want the Princess).

(But I don't understand why I want her.)

(Will I understand it if she becomes mine, just like this book?)

I sat up and closed the book.

Although the battle was over and my body was supposedly back to its usual state, my head started feeling fuzzy again. 

That sensation worsened when an image of the Princess’ face emerged in my mind. 

Despite knowing my symptoms were worsening, my hands refused to let go of the book. 

I couldn’t peel my eyes off it.

It was as though I was clinging onto it.

(I want to see her.)

(I want to see the Princess.)

[qqueenofhades]

With full acknowledgement of the general shitty stress of the times, and a very deep appreciation for your steadying words over the last couple of years: I've been somewhat conflicted about volunteering with my local Democratic Party infrastructure; since it feels like at the Federal level, some of those representatives are at best incompetent and/or out of touch; verging on malicious incompetence. Especially with the most recent cycle, for them to sit there and harp on the danger Trump presented and then be caught apparently flatfooted after his inauguration.... is it even worth considering, at this point in time, the responsibility(?) of all parties involved, whether its voters who sat out this cycle, sloppy behavior from the party at various points over the last couple of years, Republicans for being bad actors; or is setting aside that degree of analysis and focusing on just pulling through the next 2-4-6-8 ish years the way to go? Focusing on what can be changed vs. what has come before? If you do not want to answer or don't have the bandwidth, totally understandable. :) Thanks again for all your hard work in this regard.

There are two things I can say here, which is that one, the federal-level Democratic Party kind of makes a habit of being unprepared, behind the eight-ball, pre-emptively cowed, generally disorganized, constantly alarmist followed by crickets, or pretty much anything else you can think of. They have already started the "stop Trump!" fundraising emails, and plenty of us, me included, are like "brother you aren't getting money from me until you POINT OUT what the fuck you're doing and start doing it, this ain't the first rodeo, GET WITH THE PROGRAM."

The second thing to say is that at least the Democrats will respond when you push them and can generally be bullied into doing the right thing eventually, and that there is no way they will learn that, get their heads on straight, or figure out a cohesive stop-Trump action plan unless we help them do that. Some of them are more successful than others; witness Democratic state AGs being blitzingly fast off the blocks and filing a barrage of lawsuits to stop the worst executive orders, while Democratic senators and House reps (at least initially) seemed passive, confused, fearful, or just content, per Chuck Schumer, to just "sit back and wait for Trump to screw up." Like, if that's your big plan to stop fascism after you spent the entire election season telling us (rightly) what a threat to democracy Trump posed, then you deserve to get your complacent ass primaried, Chuckie m'boy. Which someone can in fact do if they want to! If nothing else, it might give them a scare!

The good news is that after the grassroots Democrats started making an enormous stink, the national party woke up somewhat more and started acting more proactively. We understand that they are out of power in all three branches and cannot do anything to substantially stop Trump if all the Republicans continue to march in MAGA lockstep, but they can at least look like they give a shit. Which Senate Democrats did with their all-night opposition to Vought (the Project 2025 guy who got confirmed to OMB). They could not stop him from being confirmed, but they could make a high-profile stink about it and show that they were responsive to people going HEY GUYS SO ARE YOU GOING TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT THIS OR. Which they will need to do, because it will maintain grassroots energy to get the House and hopefully the Senate back in 2026 and put the brakes on any substantial or legislative-related Trump BS.

The point is: the Democrats, especially on the federal level, are often chronically behind the curve and need to be kicked hard to get moving, but once that kicking happens repeatedly, they do generally tend to get the message. And if you want to make the most difference and have an active hand in shaping and discussing that effort and pressuring them to keep going, then yes, you should go ahead and volunteer. As ever, doing something is far, far better than not doing it. So yes.