#but he has thrown little hints that hes interested in me

[lisbonsteresa]

oh concrete stoop we’re really in it now

[timelord-of-the-moon]

......

[tinydefector]

Soundwave Rut cycle

Word count: 1k

Warnings: smut, breeding, G/T, giant/tiny, gagging, valveplug.

Masterlist

Soundwave masterlist

Rut cycle masterlist

I know it's taken me a while to get this one posted, I kinda got writers block for this piece and was working on others but it's finally here wooo

Ask and request are open

___________

Soundwave had disappeared after the meeting with the autobots and Decepticons. No one had seen him and they weren't particularly interested in finding the communication officer and Spy, everyone was too busy trying to keep their possessors in order and not lose themselves to their rut with the scent that the humans emitted. But had anyone been paying attention they would have been able to narrow down his location to a small supply closet, in which he had whisked the sweet little human away too. They were in the meeting earlier delivering energon cubes to everyone despite how all the bots watched them with a want to claim them, Soundwave had been the one quick enough to catch them and hide them away from prying optics of both Autobot and Decepticons. 

Muffled moans bounce off the walls of the supply closets, a human clings desperately to soundwave as the mech continues to thrust into them. His Rut had hit harder than anticipated, and he had gotten the delightful little human to himself without much issue. 

Their smaller frame seemed to fit perfectly against Soundwave, as if they were made for each other. 

Their fingers dig into Soundwave platting as their head is thrown back into his cassette carrier, a whimper is muffled by Soundwave's digits as he slowly thrust back into them, their eyes pinch closed As their legs shake. Soundwave's voice resonated with a hint of smugness and teasing as he leaned in against their ear. "Eager?" It almost sounded like a chuckle from him. Another whimper escaped the human.

With a calculated precision, Soundwave continued his movements, relishing in the way they clenched and keen, fingers desperately grabbing whatever part of his frame they could reach. "Muffled moans suit you well," he added, pressing his masked face into their shoulder, nuzzling against them as he delivers a much harsher thrust. They buck into him and sobs and whimpers fall from their lips, tears welling up in their eyes as Soundwave builds them up. 

They let out a sobbed moan around his digits as soundwave hills inside them. They shutter and whine Soundwave's voice carried a tone of dark amusement as he observed their reaction. "Such sweet sounds you make," he purred in delight, The static dancing across their form added to the allure of their smaller and softer frame. He had never experienced something like them before and he intended to enjoy every moment, claim them, and perhaps keep them for himself, he wasn't opposed to humans, they had their uses and this one, well this one he would very much enjoy keeping around. 

His free servo moves to trace their stomach feeling each movement as he ruts into them, Each thrust has his bulging their stomach. It's a delightful sight as he watches over their shoulder admiring each time he presses in and out, watching how well they take him.  His mask retracts only for him to press a trail of kisses against their shoulder.

 His voice drops into a seductive tone as he kisses up their throat until he reaches their ear. A hot vent of air hits their skin. "Hmmm, my little Carrier" he murmured, his words a blend of desire and dominance. Each thrust is more powerful than the last, he's careful with them, but still powerful enough to know how easily he could destroy them. his spike fills them so much to the point he could very much break them, but he doesn't want that, no need to fill them completely.

His desire was to breed them and swell them with his sparkling. As he nuzzled against their shoulders, his movements grew more urgent, a hunger to fill them full of his transfluid spurs him on. The sound of metal sliding against skin echoes alongside muffled moans in the dimly lit room. The raw, unbridled image of them with his sparkling is painted as a vivid picture in his processor.

Their hips move with his, clenching and shuttering as he purrs against them. "Such a perfect fit," he purred against them, each movement pushing them closer to the edge of ecstasy. As he spills inside them, flooding them with transfluid, Soundwave's control fractures as he desperately grinds into them, growling and snarling into their shoulder,   tightening his hold on them to make sure they can't get away, a primal need to ensure they were completely full, bred to his liking.

 They pant and whimper leaning back against Soundwave, he spreads their legs to admit his transfluid dripping from them, he continues to record and take photos wanting to capture everything and document it into his memory. As his transfluid dripped from them, down his thighs and on the floor of the supply closet. He lets out a deep hum of delight as he watches the way their chest heaves with each intake of oxygen. Delighted in how thoroughly sauteed they looked slumped against him. 

praise slipped from his lips as he slowly pulled out, “Such a good little Carrier for me”.  transfuild gushes from them leaving a large puddle under the two, whimpers leave his little human again as he moves one of his servos down to press his digits into them in hopes to make sure they don't lose anymore of his transfluid. 

With his digits out of their mouth, they sob loudly as he slowly begins thrusting his digits in and out of them, bright pink transfluid covers their thighs and his servo. Each thrust has them arching into him, over-stimulated from how many times he had wound them up. “Soundwave!” They nearly cry only for him to turn their face and capture them into an eager kiss. 

“Behave Carrier, loss of Fluid will result in another round” he rumbled. They clenched around his digits at the thought, he had already thoroughly ruined them and was threatening to do it again. They keen as he nips their shoulder. Soundwave runs his tongue against their skin taking in the taste of pheromones And hormones,  delighted when they tasted like his, like they belonged to him. It would deter any other mech from trying to take them, be they Autobot or Decepticon. 

_________

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[celestialprincesse]

hi!

could you write a soft (with a hint of spice) story about Simon or Konig where reader is in dire need of getting affection, but doesn’t want to bother them by asking?

please and thank you!! 🫶🫶

Of course I can!! Sorry for letting this gather dust in my ask box!! I keep meaning to go through my asks but I end up getting distracted and yapping!

mdni 🎀 mild nsfw

König doesn't pay you much attention as you sit curled on the worn couch in his office, trying to avoid the springs that dig through the old leather of the cushions, whilst simultaneously trying to get comfortable. At the beginning, the incessant snatching of his rudimentary biro on the obnoxious stack of forms occupying his desk had been soothing. You'd even managed to drift of for a snooze at one point, before being woken up by some sergeant barging into his office. Your positive mood has long since faded. You're hungry, having held out for the promise that he'd take you to your favourite restaurant as soon as he finished filling out his mission reports, said promise having been nearly three hours ago - and the stupid lights of his dingy office have you convinced that you've got a migraine coming on. "Shouldn't a colonel's office be a little nicer than this?" You hum, attempting to catch your boyfriend's attention, an attempt which is promptly thrown back out you when he gives a noncommittal grunt.

You manage to keep occupied with your own thoughts for another ten minutes before you're up on your feet, poring over the books on his shelf in an attempt to find something at least remotely engaging. Unfortunately, your boyfriend's literature is limited to weaponry and maps, neither of which you find particularly intriguing. Eventually you manage to find some dusty biography of some commander with a name you can't even pronounce, settling back on the couch to skim the pages for anything that may be of any possible interest. Unsurprisingly, it comes up naught. For a while, you try to settle with just resting, listening to the rhythmic sound of putting one to paper - a while being five minutes, and then you're at your wits end. König lets out a confused, slightly disgruntled huff as you plop yourself down on his lap, stuffing your face into the crook of his neck with a deep sigh. "Leibe-" He grunts, his pen dropping to the desk as he uses a hand to rub up and down your spine, suddenly sensing your frustration now that he's been ripped from the hyper-focussed state he'd been in. "Been ignoring me all day." You whine, aiming for him to take some pity on you. "You know I didn't mean to, my love." A massive hand stroking through your hair has you practically melting into him as he absently massages the nape of your neck with his strong fingers.

Apparently, having his attention isn't enough, because despite the hand alternating between brushing through your hair and soothing the muscles in his shoulders, you still find yourself grinding down on the sinewy muscle of his denim-clad thigh. "Needy thing." He coos as you rock your cunt back and forth over his tree trunk of a leg, blushing face hidden against his collar. He doesn't mind, of course, not at all. In fact, he gives a helping hand, gently bouncing his leg up and down as your hips cant needily against him, your panties slick soaked and see through as you get yourself off on his leg.

The minute you've finished, he's pressing affectionate, loving kisses to your head and rubbing the taut muscles of your back. "Next time you're bored, schatz, just tell me, hm?"

[bizbat]

your jason todd hcs are sooooo good omg!!! do you have any hcs specifically for when he has a crush on the reader, like how he might act, specifically if the reader is oblivious and really doesn’t think that she’s his type / thinks he’s joking if he says anything flirty?

When They're In Love - Jason Todd (Crush Edition)

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🐼JJK Masterlist🐼

~ Fem terms + Pet names used for reader.

~ You can find part one of these hcs here, and part two here.

~ You can find more of my works here.

~ These can be read as a sort of part three/prequel kinda.

~Fic at the end.

~ Tw for : Blood, Knives, Needles, Vomit. (All slight)

~Thank you for asking! Hope you enjoy, sorry this took so long :(

You would never know that Jason has a crush on you.

For the most part, he wont talk to you any differently than he will anyone else.

Maybe he won't jokingly insult you, or be super sarcastic around you, but I think that's kind of as far as he'd go.

Unless you're a close friend or family member, you'd probably have no clue he had a crush based on the way he talks to you.

But the little actions and things he does for you are so obvious.

He's the type to hold open doors for you, all the while staring other people dead in the eye as it shuts in their face.

He somehow always just "randomly" has your favorite snack on hand, or a whole collection of books by your favorite author.

I think he'd be touchy, unless he knows you don't like being touched.

If you like or don't mind it, he'd have his arm constantly thrown over your shoulder, always be leaning against you, always resting a hand on your hip.

If you're shorter than him, he does that super annoying thing where he rests his elbow on your head.

He is so lame omg.

But bc he's kinda like this with everyone, no one would fault you for not understanding his hints.

He's like the opposite though.

You said hi to him this morning? You must be in love with him.

You smiled at him today instead of Dick? He's already planning the wedding.

What's that? You said he smells nice? Have his babies. (If you can/want to)

Our delusional king.

He doesn't think you don't get his flirting.

He'd think you're fully aware and are flirting back.

Again, our delusional king.

You probably won't get it until something really serious happens and he comes to you instead of Bruce or Roy.

He'd probably try to get into things you're interested in.

Listens to all your favorite songs, reads your favorite books, etc.

And he's not subtle about it bc he is in fact, a loser.

He'll recommend a song by your favorite artist and then be like "idk why but this just reminded me of you lol"

LOSER. Can you guys tell i'm a big believer in the "jason todd is secretly a massive loser" agenda? Cuz I am. :|

And then he listens when you go on rambles about how great the things you like are and how much they mean to you.

I said he'll do things just to hear you talk about them, and I think he'd do that when he has a crush on you too.

He just loves your voice and likes hearing you talk.

He smiles at you so softly when he thinks you aren't looking.

You could be bumming out and he'll look at you with heart eyes like yeah, future spouse right there.

I don't think he'd be a big user of social media, but if you were, he'd get a whole account just to like and comment of your pictures.

user94820860038466 commented: You look very pretty in this picture.

Comments like an old man bc he has very little understanding of the internet.

He'd probably help you take pictures and fight with other people in your comment section if they're too down bad or creepy.

He doesn't strike me as the jealous type bc once again, he's so delusional he pretty much already thinks you're dating.

Nicknames nicknames nicknames.

Calls you so, so many nicknames.

Angel, doll, sweetheart, maybe even babe.

He constantly talks about you when you aren't there.

Lian and Roy know so much about you before they even meet you.

He'd do anything for you.

The store is actually about a mile in the other direction, but yeah he can get you your favorite drink.

He does not like that food at all and the owner of the store despises him, but he will not return to you empty handed best believe.

He was actually going to wear that hoodie today, but it looks so much better on you you should keep it!

~ Drabble Starts Here. ~

It's just like every other night in Gotham City. It's cold, and wet, and it smells like smoke and garbage that's been left out in the sun.

The only barrier between you and the chilled, musty air outside is a single sheet of glass; the fire escape window of your fifth floor apartment. It's comforting. The glass is, of course, bulletproof, and the seal around the sill is tight, so no gases ever manage seep in. It pays to have a decent landlord, especially in Gotham.

It's funny, but you really never think about that window. You mostly keep it shut and locked, except in the summer, when you can smell your neighbor in the building next door cooking all types of delicious aromatic dishes, or when it's just too hot and you decide the risk of heatstroke is greater than the risk of airborne psychosis. It never occurs to you just how well it keeps you safe, just how well it keeps things out.

It occurs to Jason, though. In fact, it's the only thing on his mind as he's gripping his side, frantically trying to prevent too much blood from seeping out of his body.

He'll probably chastise himself later for not being more gentle or respectful, but he's lost too much blood to be thinking straight. With his free hand, he bangs on your window, praying that you're A) at home, and B) not listening to music. He's not too worried about the first one, he knows you never leave your lights on when you're away, but the second one, he's not too sure about.

He bangs, and bangs, and bangs on the glass, a loud, thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk that immediately rouses your from your sleep. You jump up from your spot on the couch, an open book falling from your lap as you dart into your room to grab the knife Jay gave you for protection, before returning to your living room, keeping your back to the wall.

You hold the blade in front of you, nervously gripping the hilt as you listen to the banging, making sure to stay just out of sight as you cautiously creep closer and closer to the noise. It isn't until the banging dies down that you finally get close enough to see the cause.

You gasp at the sight, dropping the knife and trying to tug the window open, before mentally yelling at yourself to unlock it. You drag the weakened behemoth of a man into your apartment, carefully placing his upper body on the floor in front of your window and removing his helmet. Your hand moves to his side, firmly pressing down on his wound, as you stare at him, mouth agape and eyes flooding with concern.

He laughs, a dry chuckle that just sounds like it hurts. "What took ya' doll?" You wanna smack him, but you can do that when he's not bleeding all over your hardwood floors. You tell him to wait, as if he could go anywhere in the state he's in, before rushing to grab the emergency kit he forced you to keep.

"Let-ngh- let me do it." He groans as he attempts to sit up, trying and failing to pull the tweezers from your hand. He doesn't even have the strength to sit back up when you gently push him back down. You clean his wound, all while he holds back winces and groans. You don't hold back, focusing on cutting and cleaning and stitching and wrapping, berating Jason for coming to you of all people.

"What d'ya mean? Of course I'd come to you?" Jason manages between harsh breaths. "Who else would I go to?" He seems genuinely confused, you're his girlfriend, you always come to him when you need help. Why wouldn't he come to you?

"Oh, I don't know, Jason, maybe Bruce, or Roy, or literally anyone else with training to handle this kind of thing!?" It comes out mean, but through his pain he can tell it's coming from a place of true care. You're worried. One of the strongest, most skilled people you know is bleeding out on your floor and you're panicking. Of course you are, you've never had to sew someone up, or dig a bullet out of someone, or try to hold down bile from the heavy smell of blood.

Your hands are shaking like crazy. This isn't a slight graze you can put a bandaid over and seal with a kiss, this is a life threatening wound on someone you care about, and all they've been doing since they came to you is make stupid fucking jokes and try to take things from your hands.

Jason can tell it's getting to you.

It should be the other way around, what with him bleeding out in your living room, but he quiets down, gripping your wrist with his non-blood covered hand. "Hey," He gently strokes your skin with his thumb, repeating himself when you don't move your eyes from his wound. "Hey, look at me Y/n." It's just stern enough to make you obey, without sounding like he's mad at you. "It'll be okay. I'm in good hands." Jason smiles at you, tired and reassuring. It calms your nerves just enough for you to finish sewing his wound shut.

You sit back when you're done, taking in your work once you wrap his stomach with gauze. Jason turns just enough to catch a glimpse, smiling up at you with his stupid, charming smirk. "Not bad, doll. Told ya you had it covered." He lays back, smiling up at you as he lays his head on his arm, the one on his non-injured side. Though he doesn't seem to bothered by the end of it all, you can't say the same.

He takes in your features, your tired, glossy eyes and your pouting lips. It makes his smile drop. You look away, your sad eyes not meeting his own. "I . . . what? What's wrong Y/n?" Jason winces, moving to rest on his elbows to get a better look at your face. "Was it the blood? Or the- was it the window? I'm sorry about that, by the way." You shake your head no at all of his suggestions, taking a breath before turning back to face him.

He can feel his heart hurt at the sight of unshed tears in your eyes. "I . . . I was scared Jay." He pushes himself all the way up when you take your lip into your mouth. He ignores the pain shooting through his side when he pulls you into his arms. "Hey, hey, hey, scared of what? I'm okay. You did good." Those tears finally spill when your arms wrap around his waist, loose as to not further irritate his wound.

"You could've died Jay, a-and I wouldn't be able to-to help you! I can't help you!" You sob into his shoulder. He holds you tightly, pressing his lips to your head as he rubs your back. "Please, please don't cry. I'm okay now, you helped me. I'm all better now." He rocks you both gently, trying to console you. "Sides, if I was gonna die, I'd be happy if it was with my girl."

What?

You freeze in his arms, and he knows he said something wrong. He just doesn't know what. His brain moves a mile a minute as he tries to figure out what it was before you get even more upset. Though, his brain completely shuts down when you stare up at him with those cute, confused eyes. The tears have slowed down, and he's at least thankful for that. "Your . . . girl?" Now he's confused too. "What-what do you mean by that?"

He has to do a double take. "What do you mean? You're my girl, like . . . girlfriend, you know?" Every second that passes only confuses the two of you more. "I'm your girlfriend?" "Ar-aren't you?" You blink at him. Were you? Are you? "Am I?" Somewhere there was cognitive dissonance, Jason just doesn't know for who. "Yeah, we're dating, I thought?" Though, he doesn't feel so confident about that now.

"Oh," You feel your ears grow warm, for the second time now your eyes don't meet his own. "I . . . I didn't know that." You wish you could hide right now, but he's still got his arms wrapped around you. "I mean, unless you don't want to, then-then I'm sorry-" Jason feels maybe even more embarrassed than you as he finally drops his arms, grabbing his helmet and moving to crawl back out the window he came in through. His bullet wound is completely forgotten by now.

He stops when you grip his jacket, shyly staring at the floor as you speak. "No! I w-want to." Your eyes darty up to his, before losing confidence and dropping back to the floor. "I want to be your girlfriend," It comes out a whisper, and when he's silent for a beat too long you worry he's suddenly changed his mind.

"Good. Great. Yeah." He drops back to the floor, sitting cross legged beside you. Internally, he's doing backflips in his mind. "Cool." Later on, he'll ask more questions, but for now, he's satisfied. "Yeah." You shyly play with your clothes, twiddling your thumbs as you sit in silence. You feel like a little girl who just admitted to her crush that she likes him. "Are you-" "I didn't-" You interrupt each other, both of you gesturing for the other to continue. It's a bit of a fight, but Jason makes you go first.

"I was gonna ask if you were hungry. I have some, um, pretzels and stuff. If you want." Jason nods. He follows you into your kitchen, where the two of you quietly and contently eat the iron rich foods you looked up. "What were you going to say, by the way?"

Jason looks up from his plate, the haphazardly prepared meal helping him feel better, though his heart feels pretty good right now anyways. "I didn't know that you didn't know. I thought," he laughs nervously. "I thought, we were dating this whole time." He laughs again when you shake your head. "I didn't know! I thought . . . I don't know, that I wasn't your type, or something."

That's probably the most surprising thing he's heard you say today. Okay it's not, but it's the thing that most catches him off guard.

"Of course you are! You're so sweet, and cute, and nice, and pretty, and you smell really good, and you're funny, and I like your voice, and the way you d-do things . . . and . . . other stuff." Jason stops himself before he can ramble for hours about every single things he loves about you. You wouldn't mind if he did, though. You hide your pleased expression with your hand.

"Me too." It's quiet, but no longer shy. "I like all that "stuff" about you too."

[urdreamydoodles]

Hi, do you have a request? If so, could you make Bane and Scarecrow (separately) if their crush confesses his feelings to them? (You can add other villains if you want) have a nice day :D

Bat-Villains x Reader

You confess your feelings to them

Characters: Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Bane, Scarecrow, Two-Face, The Riddler & The Penguin

Being in my Batman-Comics era, this made me so happy, thank you! Hope you like it <3

Joker

- Confessing your feelings to the Joker is a feat in itself. His mind is a labyrinth, twisted and sharp, and he hardly ever makes it easy for anyone to get close. So, when you manage to muster up the courage and spill your heart out, he’s taken aback. His smile is unnervingly wide, but there’s a flicker in his eyes—a flash of curiosity and something darker that makes you wonder if he actually reciprocates.

- Joker’s interest in you grows even more as he realizes you’re different from his typical followers. You aren’t afraid of him, nor are you drawn in by just his dangerous allure. You’ve seen past his twisted laughter and manic acts, and you still want him. This intrigues him, even bothers him a little. How could anyone see anything in him other than madness? Yet, there you are, looking at him like he’s human, and it’s both terrifying and intoxicating to him.

- He teases you relentlessly after your confession, never letting you forget the vulnerability you showed him. “Oh, darling, you’re just too sweet for me,” he’d purr with a devilish grin, leaning in way too close. He loves watching you squirm, enjoying every bit of control he has over your emotions, almost like a game. But deep down, there’s a hint of admiration. You’ve got guts, and he respects that.

- The Joker’s way of showing affection is, naturally, unconventional. Sometimes it’s an offhanded compliment; other times, it’s a madcap scheme he drags you into, letting you play a part just because he wants you close. When he pulls you into his schemes, he’s almost like a kid showing off his toys, reveling in your reactions—whether it’s awe, excitement, or even horror. It thrills him to know he has that effect on you.

- Every so often, though, you catch him staring at you with a look that’s almost soft, a dangerous vulnerability creeping into his gaze. He covers it up quickly with a quip or an exaggerated gesture, but you know you saw something real. It gives you hope, even though you know that being with him will always mean walking the tightrope between love and chaos.

- Over time, Joker starts to grow possessive. It’s subtle at first—a smirk when he sees others vying for your attention, a warning look thrown at anyone who gets too close. But before long, he’s unapologetically possessive, wanting you at his side, sometimes even in situations where he wouldn’t usually bring someone along. “You’re mine,” he’ll say with a dark, playful tone that sends chills down your spine.

- Joker will never admit he has feelings for you outright, but in his way, he shows it. The more he involves you in his world, the closer he brings you to his madness, the clearer it becomes. To him, love is chaos, control, and the thrill of having someone he can warp and twist yet who willingly stays. You’ve become his favorite muse, his inspiration, the one who reminds him that even monsters can find someone to care for, in their own twisted way.

Harleen Quinzel aka. Harley Quinn

- Harley is surprisingly giddy when you confess your feelings to her. She’s spent her life surrounded by people who see her as a joke or Joker’s sidekick, so to have someone see her as her own person—and even like her for it—makes her heart swell. She’s blushing like crazy, giggling with delight, and probably wraps you in a tight hug before you can even process her reaction.

- As bubbly and playful as she is, Harley takes your confession seriously. She’s been through enough heartbreak and knows what it’s like to be used or ignored, so your affection means the world to her. She’ll ask you so many questions, wanting to know every little thing you feel, why you like her, and what you think of her quirks. She wants to believe it’s real, but part of her is scared it’s too good to be true.

- Harley is incredibly affectionate, and once she knows you care for her, she’s not shy about showing it. Expect surprise hugs from behind, spontaneous kisses, and laughter-filled moments. She’s like a whirlwind of emotions, sometimes leaving you breathless with her enthusiasm. She loves to make you laugh and will go out of her way to cheer you up, even if it means pulling out her silliest antics.

- She also starts to show a fiercely protective side, a side of her that you usually only see when Joker’s around. Harley may be quirky and fun, but she’s also a skilled fighter, and she won’t let anyone mess with you. She’ll even pick fights with people who look at you the wrong way, shooting you a grin afterward and saying, “Nobody messes with my sweetie and gets away with it!”

- Despite her tough exterior, Harley is vulnerable with you in a way she rarely allows herself to be. She’ll open up about her insecurities, her past, and her struggles with self-worth, trusting that you won’t judge her. She’s scared of being abandoned, of not being enough, and it’s clear in the way she clings to you a bit tighter than she would anyone else. It’s her way of telling you she doesn’t want to lose you.

- Harley’s loyalty is unwavering. Once she’s fallen for you, you’re as good as family to her. She’ll bring you little gifts, things that remind her of you, and surprise you with thoughtful gestures. Whether it’s a flower she picked up or a silly trinket she found, each one is given with a smile and a “This reminded me of ya!”

- With Harley, every day is unpredictable, a mix of chaos and love. She might drag you into wild adventures or plan the most unconventional dates, but through it all, she’s committed to making you feel cherished. She’ll never hide her feelings for you, wearing her heart on her sleeve and reminding you every chance she gets that you’re special to her, her own little piece of sanity in a world gone mad.

Pamela Isley aka. Poison Ivy

- When you first confess your feelings to Poison Ivy, she’s quiet, studying you with that piercing, assessing gaze of hers. She doesn’t let emotions cloud her judgment easily, and she needs to be sure your words are genuine. But when she realizes your feelings are sincere, there’s a rare, subtle softening in her expression. Her walls don’t crumble easily, but for you, she might just let one or two down.

- Ivy’s affection is a quiet, powerful force. She’s not overly demonstrative, but her way of showing she cares is through small gestures that speak volumes. A soft touch of her hand against yours, vines that subtly wrap around you protectively, or even a single, precious flower left for you in a place she knows you’ll find. Every gesture from her is intentional, calculated, and rare, making it all the more precious.

- One of her favorite ways to spend time with you is in her greenhouse. She’ll invite you to work alongside her, teaching you about the plants she loves as if they’re old friends. Sometimes, she’ll even let you help nurture the rarest ones, a gesture of trust few ever receive. She finds it soothing to have you nearby, feeling like a kindred spirit amid the chaotic Gotham world.

- Ivy’s protective nature is fierce. She sees the world as cruel and selfish, and anyone who hurts you quickly becomes a target of her wrath. If anyone so much as tries to harm you, they’ll find themselves facing the fury of the natural world—thorns, vines, and deadly spores at Ivy’s command. But with you, she’s gentle, careful, almost reverent, knowing that you see the good in her that others overlook.

- Ivy isn’t one for typical romance, but she enjoys creating beauty just for you. She might grow a unique plant in your favorite color, a species found nowhere else, just to show her affection in her own way. It’s her version of saying “I love you” without needing the words. And sometimes, when she catches you admiring her creations, she allows herself a rare, genuine smile.

- Though Ivy is usually serious and somewhat reserved, she has a playful side she only shows around you. Sometimes, she’ll playfully summon vines to brush against you or weave a flower crown for you, a small smile tugging at her lips as she watches your reaction. In these quiet moments, you can see the softness she hides from the rest of the world.

- Ivy is drawn to you because of your calmness and respect for the natural world, something she finds rare in Gotham. You’re like a breath of fresh air, and she finds herself surprisingly at peace around you. She might not be able to put it into words, but she knows that being with you makes her feel connected in a way she hasn’t before, making you her safe harbor in the storm of her mission.

Bane

- When you confess your feelings to Bane, his reaction is one of quiet surprise. He’s not used to hearing confessions of love—respect, fear, yes, but love is something rare in his world. He’s silent for a moment, his intense gaze holding yours, and there’s a flicker of something softer behind his usual stoic expression. For a man like him, vulnerability is dangerous, but with you, he’s willing to risk it.

- Bane’s love language is protection and physical presence. He doesn’t rely much on words but instead lets his actions speak for him. He’ll always be by your side, a solid and unbreakable presence, making sure you feel safe in his care. It’s his way of telling you that as long as he’s around, nothing in this world will harm you.

- Though he may seem intimidating, Bane has a gentle side he only shows to you. He’ll be mindful of his strength, his touch light and cautious, always making sure he doesn’t hurt you. If you’re ever in danger, however, his calm façade drops instantly, and his fierce, unyielding side comes forward. In his eyes, protecting you is non-negotiable.

- Bane loves sharing stories with you about his life and past, opening up in a way he rarely does with anyone else. His voice is deep and steady as he recounts his upbringing, his struggles, and his victories, wanting you to understand who he is beyond the mask of strength. He doesn’t hold back, trusting that you’ll accept him, scars and all.

- Despite his hard exterior, Bane has a surprisingly romantic side. He might bring you something small but meaningful, like a flower he picked from a rare spot he found on his travels, or a trinket that reminds him of you. He isn’t vocal about his affection, but each gesture is thoughtful and sincere, a sign of the care he holds for you.

- Bane admires your calm, composed nature, finding it a perfect balance to his intense personality. With you, he feels at ease in a way he never thought possible. You’re a reminder of the peace he’s always sought but never quite found until now. Sometimes, he’ll sit in quiet contemplation with you, enjoying the stillness of your presence.

- In private, Bane allows himself to be more vulnerable, letting down his guard and showing you his softer side. He might even let you touch his face, something he rarely allows anyone else to do, leaning into your touch with closed eyes as if grounding himself. In these moments, you’re the only one who sees the man beneath the mask, the one who loves you fiercely and would do anything to keep you safe.

Jonathan Crane aka. Scarecrow

- When you confess your feelings to Jonathan Crane, it surprises him. He's so consumed by his own dark philosophies and fear experiments that he's not used to genuine affection. He looks at you, studying your face as if you’re another psychological puzzle to solve. But he sees no ulterior motive in your eyes, and, though he rarely shows emotion, there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze.

- Jonathan expresses affection in a rather unconventional way. Instead of typical romance, he offers you pieces of his twisted intellect. He might discuss his latest experiments or philosophical thoughts with you, valuing your opinion in a way he seldom does with anyone else. If he asks you to assist him with his research, it's his odd way of showing trust and letting you into his world.

- Crane finds comfort in your calm and composed nature. For a man who thrives on fear and chaos, your grounded presence is a rare stability. He’ll often sit in silence with you, just observing or talking quietly about his theories. The quiet moments you share become a reprieve from the relentless psychological battles he wages with Gotham.

- The Scarecrow isn’t one to be overly affectionate, but he shows a dark protectiveness toward you. If anyone even thinks of causing you harm, Jonathan will unleash his full arsenal of fear-inducing chemicals without hesitation. He may not be expressive with words, but he’s ruthless in ensuring no one dares to cross you.

- One of his subtle ways of showing affection is by sharing his fears with you, something he keeps hidden from everyone else. He’ll discuss the fears he had growing up, or his fascination with understanding fear in all its forms. Sharing these secrets with you is his way of revealing the man behind the mask, trusting that you’ll accept his complexities.

- Jonathan admires your resilience and ability to stay calm, even in his most chaotic moments. You’ve become a constant in his life, and though he won’t openly say it, he finds himself feeling at peace when he’s near you. He may even develop a rare habit of reaching out to hold your hand, an act he considers a grounding tether in his unpredictable world.

- Sometimes, he’ll leave small notes or bookmarks in the psychology books he knows you’ll read, with cryptic messages or quotes that he knows will make you think. It’s his way of letting you into his mind without having to speak it aloud, and he takes pleasure in watching you puzzle over his hidden meanings.

Harvey Dent aka. Two-Face

- When you confess your feelings to Harvey Dent, you can see the internal struggle play out on his face. Harvey—the man he used to be—is vulnerable and hopeful, while Two-Face, the darker half, is wary and skeptical. It’s rare to see him so conflicted, but when he realizes you’re sincere, he gives you a small, tentative smile, one of the few true ones you’ve seen.

- Harvey’s love language is mixed with his duality. Some days he’s sweet, protective, and deeply caring, a glimpse of the old Harvey who fights to emerge. Other days, his darker side takes over, and he becomes more distant, protective but harsh. He’s constantly at war with himself, but he does his best to show you both sides, hoping you’ll accept him fully.

- A symbol of trust for him is letting you hold his two-headed coin, the one he uses for all his decisions. He’ll let you flip it, letting you “decide” for him in those moments when he’s overwhelmed. This is an enormous gesture from him, showing that he values you as a balance between his good and bad sides.

- Harvey’s protectiveness over you is intense and fierce. He’ll use all his resources to make sure you’re safe in Gotham’s dangerous world, and if anyone tries to harm you, he’ll make sure they regret it. His duality comes into play here—sometimes he’s gentle in his protection, and other times, Two-Face’s wrath is ruthless and merciless.

- On good days, he’ll reminisce with you about his life before the accident, sharing memories of who he once was. In these moments, he’s vulnerable and nostalgic, as if hoping you might remind him of his better nature. He doesn’t have many people he can trust, but you’re one of the few who sees the real Harvey underneath.

- Harvey loves to show you both sides of his life, taking you to high-end places and then to his more seedy hideouts, introducing you to the two parts of his world. He’s nervous about showing his darker side, but he trusts that you’ll understand him. It’s his way of including you in every aspect of his life, letting you in where few others ever go.

- He has a unique way of showing affection, giving you small, rare smiles or reaching out to touch your hand with his scarred one. He’s insecure about his appearance, but with you, he feels a bit more at ease. Sometimes, he’ll even catch his reflection with you in a window, seeing the contrast and finding a strange peace, knowing you accept him fully—scars, darkness, and all.

Edward Nigma aka. The Riddler

- When you confess your feelings to Edward, he’s taken aback, blinking in surprise before a smirk forms on his face. He immediately assumes you must be drawn to his intellect, as he sees himself as the ultimate puzzle. After the initial shock, he responds with a playful, “I knew you would eventually fall for my genius.” But there’s a genuine glint of excitement in his eyes, and you know he’s truly thrilled.

- Edward loves to impress you with his intellect, often challenging you with riddles or complex games he creates just for you. If you manage to solve his puzzles, it only makes him admire you more. There’s a playful arrogance in the way he’ll lean over your shoulder and whisper, “I didn’t make it that easy, did I?”

- Being with him means you’re his partner in crime (literally and figuratively), and he values your opinion on his schemes. He loves the idea of two minds working together and enjoys discussing plans with you, carefully considering any clever ideas you bring to the table. To him, you’re a rare equal, someone who can match him mentally—a compliment he doesn’t give lightly.

- Edward’s affection is quirky and, at times, even a bit competitive. He enjoys subtle one-upmanship with you, and if you can outsmart him, he’s surprisingly delighted, showing a rare sense of pride in your intelligence. He even begins to share details of his most elaborate plans, trusting you with things he wouldn’t tell a soul.

- His protectiveness comes in the form of setting traps and riddles to keep you safe. If anyone so much as thinks of harming you, they’re met with a labyrinthine trap or a series of riddles that they’ll struggle to solve. It’s his way of keeping you out of danger, knowing that his “defenses” will thwart anyone who poses a threat to you.

- Edward loves leaving you little riddles and coded messages to find, each with a hint of affection or admiration hidden inside. Whether he’s planning a date or just wanting to make you smile, he’ll slip a puzzle into your daily routine, and your clever responses only make him fall harder for you.

- Though he’s not the most emotionally open, Edward surprises himself by genuinely enjoying the softer moments with you. Whether it’s a quiet evening where you’re both reading or analyzing mysteries, he feels more at ease than he ever has. It’s new territory for him, but he cherishes every moment—even if he’ll rarely admit it outright.

Oswald Cobblepot aka. The Penguin

- When you confess your feelings to Oswald, he’s absolutely shocked, and he stammers for a moment. Used to people being interested in him only for his power and status, he’s genuinely moved by your feelings. He adjusts his suit with a confident flourish, but it’s clear he’s flattered, his eyes softening as he says, “You…really mean that?”

- Oswald is incredibly attentive and chivalrous toward you. He’s always quick to hold doors, pull out chairs, and offer his arm with a refined yet protective air. He adores treating you to the finest Gotham has to offer—luxury dinners, elegant galas, and private rooms in the Iceberg Lounge where it’s just the two of you.

- When he’s with you, Oswald can’t help but show off his power and influence. He’ll make sure you’re treated like royalty everywhere you go, and if anyone disrespects you, they’ll face his wrath. There’s nothing he won’t do to protect you, whether it’s using his connections or intimidating someone into compliance.

- He’s deeply proud of having you by his side, often flaunting your relationship publicly as a way of reminding others of his newfound joy. Though he’s a ruthless criminal, he feels a sense of pride and warmth in being with someone who loves him for who he truly is. In his own way, he strives to be worthy of you.

- Oswald has a softer, more vulnerable side that only you get to see. When he’s not putting on his “Penguin” persona, he opens up about his difficult past and insecurities, grateful to have someone who listens without judgment. He’s deeply grateful for your presence in his life, even if he has trouble expressing it directly.

- Oswald loves to spoil you with extravagant gifts, from rare jewelry to designer clothes. He takes great pride in watching you wear something he picked out, and he’ll always remind you, “Only the best for my love.” It’s his way of showing affection and devotion, compensating for what he lacks in typical romantic expression.

- If you’re ever threatened, Oswald’s protectiveness skyrockets. He’s not afraid to use his network of henchmen and connections to make sure you’re safe, even if it means crossing dangerous lines. Though he’s often ruthless, there’s a soft, fierce loyalty when it comes to you, and he’ll do anything to ensure you’re untouchable in Gotham’s treacherous world.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Coworker (part 12)

Thank you @i---believe---in---pink for commissioning this chapter.

(2041 words)

Tw: afab reader, reader is pretty mean to Cyprus, Cyprus becoming angry and yelling at reader

Please vote on the poll down below

Masterlists (+commission info), part 1, part 13

You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand, Cyprus must have thought you were doing that excessively, as he would grab your wrist and pull it away from your face. He gave you a look from the corner of his eyes before returning his attention to the road.

You slumped in your seat, resting your cheek on the seatbelt. Cyprus's hand would find its way back to your thigh, where he would knead and squeeze them as much as he liked. You simply stared at it, because it would always return no matter how much you slapped it away.

You brought your chin up and looked forward. This farmer's market must be far, all you could see is a long strip of asphalt and grass around the car. The sun was shining bright and the air was silent, he refused to turn the radio on or play some music, because he wanted you to talk to him. Cyprus wanted a conversation, to connect with you better by sharing things about each other. But you're just not interested, you wanted to go home and catch up with sleep. Having Cyprus in your life is such a curse, everything was thrown off balance and he kept bullying you. Plus, he kept your phone away, and you're forced to simmer in reality.

"What's your zodiac sign?" He asked, resting his hand on your thigh.

You shrugged. Claiming not to be interested in it just so he would leave you alone in peace.

"Hm." He flicked his turn signal switch to the right before making a turn. "I'm a Cancer, my birthday's on the third of July. And if you're wondering what to get me, I just want your cute little ass on my face." Cyprus sported a playful smirk on his handsome face.

You told him you hope he gets cancer on his birthday. Which made him roll his eyes and click his tongue.

"Someone's cranky." It was followed by a laugh from him. "Sleepy?"

You snapped, telling him you didn't want to go on this stupid date this early in the morning. Wishing that you had never met Cyprus because everything was fine before then, but he had to come around and ruin it. He should just shrivel up and die.

There were a few beats of silence before he began speaking again.

"Wow, where the fuck did that come from, princess? That was a lot to take in." He tried to keep the tone lighthearted, but you could hear a twinge of hurt in his voice. "I must have woken you on the wrong side of the bed today, you were never this mean to me." Something in the way he said that suggests Cyprus is trying to get you to tell him the real reason why you're so moody today.

You sealed your lips shut and looked out of the window. You wanted nothing to do with him and he probably got the hint, as he removed his hand from your lap and placed it on the steering wheel.

Your eyes somehow itched way more than usual, so you went on to rub your eyes again with both hands.

"Stop that-"

You snapped at him again, curling yourself into a ball, pressing yourself far away from Cyprus. He opened his mouth to say something but ultimately decided against doing so.

He looked troubled but you didn't care. Unfortunately, you're too upset to give a damn and you don't know why.

The rest of the ride was driven in silence, neither you or him said a word. And eventually, Cyprus has reached his destination, driving further past the tents and stalls to enter an underground parking lot.

"We're here." Cyprus pulled his handbrake up and killed the engine. He took the keys out of the ignition, but made no move to open the door.

Because he was staring at you, who is now refusing to budge. Hiding yourself in your corner with your knees brought to your chest.

He brought a hand up to your head, petting your hair affectionately. "Baby? I said we're here-"

You yelled at him, saying you heard him the first time. All that while harshly shoving his hand away from you.

"What the fuck is up with you today!?" And it seems like that was the last straw for him, Cyprus furrowed his eyebrows and crowded you from his seat, making the only escape route the door, but it was locked and you somehow couldn't open it no matter how much you tugged on the handle or toggled with the lock.

You said you hated him, he has ruined your life. Perhaps you were trying to mimic what his exes did, you don't know how they could withstand the pressure of his menacing presence. Or maybe they liked it, you definitely didn't.

He sternly called you by your name. "Look at me."

You refused, burying your face in your arms.

"Look at me!" He scolded, this time Cyprus seized you by the jaw and forced your face to his. His grip on you was almost bruising, forcing you to pucker your lips as his fingers dug into your cheeks.

He glared straight at you, steely grey eyes darting all over to examine whatever might be causing your sudden and severe hostility. Though his expression softened when he realized what's been behind your intolerance today.

"Ah." He sounded out, "That figures." relieved and annoyed at the same time. Cyprus brought his thumb on your lower eyelid and gently pulled it down. He then pushed your upper eyelid up.

"Pink eye. I told you not to hang around Nancy." Nancy was one of your nosier coworkers, she had just come back from a medical leave and Cyprus was already telling you to avoid her. You didn't listen despite how she would have coughing fits and bad coughing etiquette. In hindsight, maybe you should have heed his words, but you were desperate to regain some agency over yourself. So you rebelled.

He continued checking your eyeball even after he knew what he was looking at.

It felt invasive, so you thrashed in his grip enough for him to loosen it.

He sighed, taking his keys out of his pocket, jabbing it into his ignition and restarting it again. You winced when Cyprus revved up his engine and allowed its roar to bounce off the basement carpark walls.

"I knew you didn't mean any of it; the crap you said to me. But you really need to say what's bugging you next time... not just take it out on me." He brought his handbrake down and shifted gears.

You remained static in your position and stayed quiet.

"I know you wouldn't, though. It's like it'll kill you to open up." Cyprus drove away from his perfect parking spot, pressing on the gas pedal as if he was in a rush.

"It's fine, I totally love playing detective." Snarked Cyprus sarcastically.

You merely rubbed your eye with a finger.

--

"One more drop, princess." He whispered, holding cupping your cheek and using his thumb to pull your lower eyelid down. Once the last droplet of your antibiotics reached your eye, you blinked hard and held onto his wrist.

"That's a good girl," Cyprus whispered as he pecked you on the forehead, before screwing the cap back on the bottle. A few seconds later, you started to feel the relief in your diseased eyeball.

Cyprus had driven you to a nearby pharmacist, where he would buy medicated eye drops for your conjunctivitis. He had insisted that he is the one to administer it because he claimed that you wouldn't know how to do it correctly despite being there when the pharmacist verbally gave you the instructions. It wasn't cheap, but he still footed the bill himself.

You shook your head and blinked rapidly, allowing the medicine to spread evenly. Cyprus brushed any stray hairs away from your face with his fingers, you were too distracted with the sensation you have in your eye to push him away.

"Well?"

You looked at him. He has his arms crossed and is leaning against the side of his car.

"Aren't you going to apologize? You were so fucking mean to me earlier." He looked away momentarily, seemingly trying to hide something on his face before bringing back his focus on you.

You froze and couldn't get anything out, yes, you were unreasonably rude to him. But that may be your only ticket out of this forced relationship... Well, your last resort is to go to the police but you don't think it has come to that yet. It's not... Illegal to be a jerk to Cyprus as long as you check yourself from time to time.

You were brought out of your thoughts by an incoherent grumble from Cyprus, he massaged his brow. "Okay, we don't have to do that now, you're definitely still a little prickly for some reason and I think I know why." He took a deep breath and exhaled as he opened the door to his passenger seat.

You stared blankly at the interior of his car, he gestured for you to go in. "Come on, get in. I'm going to have to fight for another parking spot, and that's going to take a while."

You looked around you, god knows where you are right now and you have no smartphone to navigate your way back home. There isn't a bus stop in sight either. Perhaps you could slowly inch your way to the general direction of your home? Your shoes are intact and pretty comfortable, there has to be a bus stop somewhere.

"You are not walking home, I'll fucking wrangle you into this car if I have to." As if he was reading your mind, Cyprus quickly closed the space between the two of you, so that your face is almost smothered in his broad chest.

You begrudgingly agreed and went into the Passenger's side on your own. He closed the door for you and shook his head while walking towards the driver's seat.

The distance between the pharmacy and the market wasn't that far at all, it was short enough that Cyprus didn't try to initiate any small talk or touch you either. Or maybe he was still freshly wounded by your recalcitrance.

Cyprus only reached out to pull your hand away when you're about to rub your eyes again.

"Here." He picked up his thermos flask in his cup holder and handed it to you. "Drink up, you only had a tiny sip of water today."

You cautiously took it from his hand and opened it to access the crisp, refreshing water with ice cubes bobbing around.

He was right, Cyprus isn't looking for a motherly partner to supplement his life. He is the motherly one who you now realize took care of you very well no matter how much you didn't like his personality.

From cutting your steaks without needing to ask, making your meals, taking you to the clinic, and paying for anything you can think of. Yes, it's irritating that he would drag you to dates that you didn't even want to go on in the first place, but his intentions were for you to experience the world and all its novelty alongside him. He just wanted you to have fun differently and he isn't stingy with his money.

However, that doesn't discount the fact that he's doing all these against your will, touching you despite your numerous "No"s and rejections, forcing you to play along with this romantic fantasy of his in the office and holding your items hostage, so he could keep you in his apartment.

You brought your attention to him again, he's sulking. A stark contrast from his cheery, teasing attitude from this morning.

Somehow, you felt guilty for lashing out at Cyprus earlier. He did make you cry, though. So this could have been payback for it. However, he apologized, albeit sounding patronizing and infantilizing.

But if you apologize, it will only send a message that you're genuinely interested in being with Cyprus. Worsening his chronic disability to heed your rejections.

You thought about your next move.

[ryansrain]

I'm literally obsessed with the visual novel keyframes right now. It's so good!! The writing is amazing and the characters are even better. The fact that it takes place throughout 2 years of college and not just a week is so refreshing!

I can't stop thinking about the boyssss

Theories and things I've noticed:

None of the boys seem to like being the center of attention. Jamie is forcefully thrown into it by his little "groupies" and absolutely hates it. The man hid in a bunch of flowers to get away. He just wants to be left alone!

Percy will do his little flirty/jokey thing and have an audience for the bit but that's about it. When it comes to talking about himself or getting told he's doing a good thing/(mc trying to break down his walls) he hates it. Mc tells him it's sweet he shares his food so Jamie will eat something he likes, Percy brushes it off. Mc thinks it's cute that Percy wants to reward Elio for doing a good thing he literally tries to stomp on ur toes! Dude loves to joke around with u but hates to get deep and actually acknowledge the good things he does. Percy is very comfortable talking about Elio and tends to push the conversation on to him so he doesn't have to talk about himself. When ur on the green getting plants in the study event there's an option to ask Percy if he's done anything he likes with Elio. He tries to dodge the question by saying no but then Elio mentions a comic convention they went to. AGAIN this man tried to brush it off saying it wasn't a big deal. But Elio comes in clutch like the best boy he is and starts to talk more about it. And wat does Percy do? He defects like he does everything and makes a joke and the convo is kinnda over. He also pushes aside the things he wants in favor of what his friends want. Which is sweet but TELL ME WAT U LIKE SIR.

Elio does a LOT of good deeds but doesn't like everyone to make a big fuss about it. He just wants to return the wallet peace! (Which I totally get. If someone tried to sing me a song because I returned the wallet I might just drop it back on the floor.) Elio is a middle child of a huge family. Middle children tend to not get alot of attention from parents compared to the youngest and oldest. I love and want to know more! GIVE US DEEP CONVERSATIONS WITH ELIO AND LET HIM SHOW US THE STARS

Jamie is so funny I love all his puns.

Elio is so cute and way to biteable.

How I think the boys will react when they notice they have feelings for mc.

Jamie might not notice at first. He's never really been interested in relationships until mc. So he might have a hard time knowing the difference between platonic feelings and romantic. But when he does figure out it's romantic he'll try and give subtle hints that he's interested to see if u are as well.

Elio will be similar in the way of not knowing between platonic and romantic right away. He's probably going to be like, "mc is such a good friend, I just want to be around them all the time and maybe kiss a little bit. ...wait wat?" We know from the blank house asks that elio has never been in a relationship and doesn't know that anyone has ever liked him in a romantic way. I think this will make him a little worried that mc doesn't like him back. Now if mc doesn't identify as a woman Elio is going to be super confused. Blank house has said that mc is going to be elios gay awakening. He saw himself as straight before mc but 100% was an ally( u cannot make me believe different.) I think he's ganna struggle with that a bit and his friends will 100% know he likes mc before he does. When elio figures himself out and is comfortable its ganna be complete puppy love and adorable. But again he will be in denial for a bit.

Now Percy. He is going to do whatever he can to make himself believe he doesn't like mc romantically. Or at least do his best to hide them. This man is already trying not to tell mc anything about himself. Mc is going to break down his wall no matter how long it takes. I don't think Percy lovers will go down without a fight. I suspect he might be a little put off by relationships. We know from the game that his parents are divorced. He mentions in the rainy day event the paints he has r from his stepdad. He may have been around alot of fighting and toxic relationships at home. This is probably why he spent so much time at elios house. He might not think he can have a healthy relationship or just doesn't know how. Maybe if things r going really well with mc it scares him because "all romantic relationships end badly, maybe we should have just stayed friends, I think I'm in love with them and that's terrifying I dunno how to handle this." He might have a breakdown and break up with them. He's had a romantic relationship in the past and we don't know how that one went but I'm guessing it was similar or maybe the partner did something bad and that put him off. I dunno. This is all just assuming he's the one that gets the confirmed break up. We've all collectively agreed it's not Elio. It could be Jamie but I just don't see it because in an ask it sounded like u had the option to get back together. The only way I can see Jamie breaking up with mc (assuming their relationship is going well) is him going back to Sweden. Maybe Percy was expecting his and mcs romantic relationship to stay casual but when it started to get serious he started to over think everything and broke it off.. maybe I dunno. In his profile it says he has a rosey outlook on life which makes me think maybe the break up isn't his? I need to know! This Kickstarter needs to get fully funded!! 🥹

It would be hilarious if the break up was just Percy calling mc and being like, "hey don't take this the wrong way but T Swifty just dropped a new album so I'm ganna need u to break up with me for at least 60 minutes so I can experience her music to the fullest." Then u hear a knock on ur door exactly 70 minutes later and he's got food for both of u and he does a little bit about u taking him back. And how could u break up with him over T Swifty that's so crazy.

[mysteria157]

Chapter One

Pairing: Black Fem!Reader x Hitman Toji Fushiguro

CW: Profanity, Hints of Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Comfort

Word Count: Don't worry about it.

Summary:

“I’m only going to say this one more time, Toji. I don’t do situationships. I don’t do friends with benefits or the occasional hookup. You want more? I want you to try. Earn me.”

His hands are so bloody, that if you ever knew the source, you would'nt want someone like him to try. He shouldn't be here, taking up so much of your time, asking for more. But he's selfish.

-or; Toji, a notorious hitman, moves to America for more money and a better life for his son. He didnt expect to sleep with you, let alone want more. When his dangerous life catches up to him, he takes on one final lucrative hit, but realizes this target has unseen connections hitting closer to home. Now he must navigate a perilous job while desperately keeping his criminal double life hidden from you.

Authors Notes: Hello! I hope you all enjoy this first chapter. As stated in the masterlist, this fic is a continuation from Maneater, so reading that will definitely help set the tone for this fic. I plan to dig deep with this story and really find my voice writing a different genre.

As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! Enjoy and thank you for your support!

| Twitter | Ao3| Masterlist | Prologue | Next Chapter

Dividers: @royallaesthetics @eloquentmoon | Header: created by myself (fanart from Pinterest)

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

…women like you drown oceans -Rupi Kaur

*** You ***

Pop!

The sharp sound of gum expanding and then exploding causes you to flinch, your eyeliner pen frozen just above your lid. Through the mirror’s reflection, you shoot a glare at the open closet door, where your cousin rummages through your clothes.

Pop!

She’s in her own little world. If this were any other circumstance, she would have been scolded for her habit of popping gum—a top offender on the list of annoying behaviors ingrained in both of you since childhood. You detest the sound, and if you were closer, you would have punched her in the stomach by now.

You and your cousin typically get along well, but she enjoys testing your limits to coax you out of your shell. The only way to shut her up is by letting her tire herself out during her talkative rampages or swinging at her when you’ve had enough.

Every day with her is a gamble of which will come first.

Your eyeliner is still hovering by your upper lid, suspended in place as you watch another sundress get haphazardly thrown against the closet wall instead of being put back on a hanger where it fucking belongs.

You can’t bother with trying to get violent with her, you’re way too preoccupied with other thoughts. More incessant thoughts like how to play it cool on a date. It’s not that hard, right? Be yourself, get a gauge of the man trying to impress you, entertain a few hours of your day and then back home to relax.

Easy.

If it were anyone else but Toji, then it would be easy.

You had buried yourself in double shifts and extended hours in the lab just to distract yourself from today. Anything to keep you busy and keep your mind off the fact that someone you are sort of interested in…wants to see you. And he reminds you every day when you look down at your phone.

Despite his admission of being a lazy texter, Toji is surprisingly consistent. But the messages take on a blunt form wrapped around a small pearl of care.

Toji: Eat breakfast. What good are you in a hospital if you pass out?

Toji: Stop taking on more shifts, its stupid. Go home and rest.

Toji: You better not be tired this weekend. 

No matter how hard you try to force your face to stay immobile, each text makes your lips twitch into a small smile. He masks his words in harsh deliveries, but the intention is obvious. The satisfying jolt that shoots up your spine when your phone buzzes with a notification from him should be embarrassing. It should be.

But you love it.

It’s absurd, really. Only two weeks have passed since you met him, hardly enough time to form any meaningful connection. Yet, that night at your uncle’s was unexpectedly delightful. Toji was, against your better judgment, charming and attentive, almost to the point of clinginess. And, undeniably, he’s attractive. And a fucking fantastic lay.

So, despite your instinct to ignore a man and the way they flaunt their feathers for your attention, you want Toji to bring that same energy as last time.

You lean your elbows back into the shiny wood of your vanity, focusing your attention on your eye as you lower the eyeliner to your skin.

Pop!

The sound makes you jump, disrupting your focus and smearing the eyeliner across your temple.

“Rene!” you bark, slamming your eyeliner down on the vanity top with a force that makes your hand sting, and you yank a drawer open in search of a makeup wipe. “Stop popping your gum before I come over there and beat the shit out of you.” As you wipe off the smudged makeup, you catch the reflection of your cousin emerging from your closet.

She embodies a beauty that’s almost blinding, matched only by her lively personality. So naturally, heads turn when she enters a room, her chocolate skin seemingly radiant wherever she goes. With her thick, kinky hair always in a protective style and her unshakeable confidence in her intelligence and appearance, Rene caught Shiu’s attention immediately, and he’s been captivated ever since.

She is one of very few in your family who truly gets you, who sees the world with clarity and understands its nuances and how to navigate through it without compromising her ideals. Since childhood, you’ve stuck to each other like glue. She understands you and your guarded demeanor, you understand her and her loud personality. She’s one of your best friends.

But at this moment, as she stands before you in booty shorts and a tank top that accentuates her curves, her twist out cascading from a pineapple updo, and an outfit draped over one arm, she is pissing you off as she pops her gum againwith a cheeky expression.

“I like your makeup.” A sly grin stretches on her face, enhancing her soft features. You ignore her, feeling your defenses rise as she effortlessly peels back your layers. The liquid eyeliner glides against the smooth brown of your skin, forming a subtle cat-eye as you pretend not to notice her approaching you from behind.

She gracefully settles onto your vanity top, ignoring your lipstick casing that teeters over and rolls across the shiny surface. You shoot her another glare before moving to your other eye. “You should put on some mascara too. When you give him head later today, I’m sure he’ll love to see it run down your cheeks and—”

You swing at her not even a second later, landing a solid smack on the side of her thigh. “UM Ow?!”

“Um?? Shut the fuck up,” you growl, sneering at her with a leveling scowl that you hope cuts through her.

It doesn’t.

Rene snorts, shrugging off the vanity and moving to your bed to change her clothes. As she pulls your dark jeans over her thick thighs, you can’t help but wonder if you should dress more…sexy?  Your jean shorts reveal enough skin, and the jersey fits snugly around your torso. You’re no stranger to dressing to the nines and making heads turn just like her, but you value practicality more than appeal. It’s a football game, after all, and you love football. Why bother looking overly sexy when you’ll be screaming and stuffing hotdogs and pretzels in your mouth?

Despite the logic, a hand of insecurity tightens around your throat.

Rene, like the annoyingly clairvoyant bitch she is, tastes the shift in the air and rolls her eyes at you through the mirror’s reflection. “You look fucking amazing. Toji asked you out—frequently, I might add.”

The memories of his persistence flash through your mind in a rush. Heated touches in the backseat of your truck, sweaty skin sliding against each other, and your mouth dripping with moans of satisfaction were constantly interrupted by his repeated question.

“Let me take you out.”

As if he couldn’t get enough. As if he wanted more. As if he wouldn’t leave your uncle’s house that night until you flat-out told him to leave you alone.

You haven’t entertained a man since your cheating ex, so your defenses remain high and guarded, fortified with brick and mortar, armed to fend off anyone who comes too close.

But in such a short time, Toji managed to advance further than others with hard skin resilient to your attacks, and a constant insistence to be by your side. He’s spoken to you in ways that would have landed others in the ER, yet his words were always laced with harsh care to make you confront your own overreactions instead of hiding.

“Stop acting up and let me be nice to you.”

“You’re not mean to men; you just don’t do bullshit.”

“It’s okay to be a little excited about this,” Rene interjects, slicing through the thick current of your anxiety.

And you are, excited and a little nervous, though you don’t respond to her, simply reaching for your clear lip gloss to finish your makeup.

By the time there is a knock on your door thirty minutes later, you and Rene are ready to go. Your curls are piled high on your head, tendrils falling to frame your face and your hairline slicked with curled edges. There’s a subtle shake in your hands wrapped around the handle of your front door, betraying the calm façade you wear.  As you open it, expecting Toji’s familiar face, you’re met with Shiu, a toothpick in his mouth and a gentle smile playing on his lips.

You greet him warmly with a hug, letting him inside. He can only hug you for a second before rushing past you and toward the direction of your room, anxious to see his fiancé. “Don’t fuck on my bed!” you yell after him, loud enough for your cousin to hear.

It’s only a minute later when there’s a knock at the door that makes you jump, shocking you into reality again as you realize that you haven’t moved since inviting Shiu inside. In your stupidity, you look through the peephole and swallow the gasp at Toji’s distorted form.

“I can see your feet. Open the door,” his deep voice cuts, familiar and commanding.

Your fingers curl against the wooden surface of your door, nails scratching lightly along the veneer as you wrestle with the innate temptation to be stubborn. Besides Nanami Kento—another close friend and coworker—Toji is the only man you’ve let talk to you like this. He’s a little bit of an asshole, but beneath his rough exterior lies a tender core that beckons you to peel back the layers like an onion, eager to feel just how soft the bulb is in the center. You’re drawn to him in a way you can’t explain, and it’s a longing that ignites a hunger that you haven’t experienced in a very long time.

With a resigned sigh, you swing the door open to be welcomed by the sight of him, a picture that leaves you momentarily breathless. You swallow the drool that pools instantly in the back of your throat, curl your toes in your sneakers to resist the urge to spring forward and slant your lips against his, and bite the inside of your lip so the twitching on the sides does not turn into a gentle smirk.

“You look good, baby,” his words roll off his tongue effortlessly, his gaze sweeping over you with a knowing intensity. It feels as though he’s studying a heavily guarded masterpiece that he finally has his hands on to steal. He notices every stroke of paint, every blotch that makes you who you are and it’s with a concentration that leaves you dizzy enough to grip the door tighter in your hands.

Though only a week has passed since you last saw him, his presence still grips you with a force that borders on intoxicating. Clad in a black shirt that accentuates his commanding presence, his broad shoulders exude a magnetic strength that summons you, stirring a primal desire to dig your fingernails into him like you did that night in your truck. One of his hands is tucked in a jeaned pocket, the other is behind his back, and jet-black locks brush his cheeks as he chuckles, undoubtedly amused by the dumbfounded stare that you’re still shooting his way. His scar cradles the side of his lips in a seductive curl as he smirks.

God, he’s so—he’s so—

His presence seems to fill the entire room, a tangible force even without crossing the threshold of your home. An urgent ache surges within you, craving the warmth of his embrace, the security of his strength.

“You gonna let me in or just keep your mouth open for the flies?” His voice breaks the reverie in your mind, a well-known blend of annoyance that fills your chest immediately. You’re reminded of how effortlessly irritating he can be, yet there’s a strange allure in his confidence.

At this point, you don’t have a quip loaded up quick enough to shoot back at him. So, you step aside and hold your breath as his large body crosses the threshold of your home.

The last time he was at your door, he barged inside with a barely contained fury and pulled you into an argument that stemmed from your unwillingness to be vulnerable and his lack of expertise in expressing himself. It was a weird song and dance that marked the beginning of something you still don’t fully understand. Now, he’s here with a slightly different demeanor, calm and self-assured as he plants a firm kiss on your cheek as if he’s a hardworking husband returning home just in time for dinner.

You gape at his nonchalance, watching in disbelief as he kicks off his shoes and pulls his hand from behind his back, presenting you a bouquet of flowers in a manner that feels both rushed and sincere. You look down at the flowers, wide-eyed and blinking to make sure the reality you are currently in isn’t actually a simulation.

Daisies.

Not the cheap, wilted blooms you kind of expected from him, but fresh, vibrant flowers. Their white petals gleam softly, each grain of pollen in the yellow center visible in the light of your kitchen. The stems are freshly cut, wrapped in a simple red bow and your chest is fluttering with a severity that unsettles you.

“I didn’t know what kind you liked. And I don’t trust Shiu with an honest answer so…” His words trail off, leaving unspoken sentiments lingering in the air.

 Your lips curl around words that won’t form, and you mentally sort through your book of tricks. It’s a book you’ve spent years filling after countless experiences. Men will do just about anything for pussy. There’s no reason to be shocked at why they do the things they do—they’re all the same.

But even from that first day you met, you have already shuffled through your book when it comes to Toji. Every time you look up whatever trick he tries to pull, you come up with an empty page. There’s never a solution or a pre-written response that you can use. You have no choice but to figure this out on your own and fill in the pages later.

“If you don’t like them, you don’t have to take them,” he cuts into your thoughts, words edged with a trace of embarrassment that he’s trying to cover up with frustration. “Just give them back—” He reaches for the flowers, and you reflexively pull your arms away, much to your own shock at the way your body moves on its own.

“I like them,” you blurt out, your voice not as strong as you want it to be but thankfully steady as the words leave your lips. “They’re very nice, Toji. Thank you.”

He drops his hand, shoves it deep into the pocket of his jeans before clearing his throat and giving you a sharp nod. His eyes take in your face for only a second before they flit away to focus on a random spot in your living room, a hint of blush on his cheeks that makes the fluttering in your chest pick up in speed. It’s a weird feeling that will consume you if you don’t stay in control.

So, you push it down, swallow the pool of saliva in your mouth so it can help the glide, all the way down to the pit of your belly to extinguish the embers that threaten to lick to life. You shuffle past him and into the kitchen to fetch a vase, your mind sorting through the symptoms of various pulmonary diseases to distract yourself from the giddiness of him getting you flowers.

A normal thing. The bare minimum for a man. But it makes you feel great all the same. They aren’t your favorite, not even close, but it’s a gesture that shatters your preconceived notions about Toji that probably shouldn’t be there in the first place.

“What are they?” he asks, face still pink below his eyes that linger on the countertop instead of at you. You untie the bow at the stems and slide the daisies into an antique vase with crystalline ridges, shooting him a questioning raised eyebrow in response. One of his hands gestures wildly to the vase you are filling with water. “Your favorite flowers.”

“Snapdragons.” Toji throws you a quizzical look, his eyebrows pinched together in a clear display of confusion that makes you chuckle. You push the now full vase of flowers to the center of your kitchen countertop, the sight warming your stomach no matter how much you try to stop it. “They aren’t in season, but there’s a vendor here that sells them in the Spring and Fall. Growing up, we lived right next to a river where they would grow. My father would pick them every year and bring them to my mother as a gift. Whenever they wilted, he picked more and replaced them…over and over until they weren’t in season anymore.”

You dig your teeth into the wet flesh of your cheek to stop yourself from rambling, the need to talk more about yourself is at the tip of your tongue. He’s quiet as he takes in your response, eyebrows twitching with fleeting emotion before they smooth out into their usual calm expression. Maybe it’s your eyes playing tricks, but he looks as if he’s locked away your little nugget of information and is ready to move on to the next thing.

More of you.

That gaze is now free of shyness and taking you in, sharp and cutting and rough around the edges, his green irises sliding down to the exposed skin of your thighs, and they must beckon him because he makes his way towards you with a dominating presence that tightens your throat. He walks around the countertop, avoiding the sharp edge from biting into his side and now he’s standing in front of you, looming and dwarfing you without even trying. You catch a whiff of his cheap cologne—a different scent from what you smelled before—but still rich with bergamot undertones that make you more curious than bothered at his frugal mentality.

“Can I kiss you? Or you gonna smack me instead?”

Even though he’s teasing, he displays the growing knowledge of your boundaries and the lengths you will go to protect yourself.

“What, you want to get smacked, Toji?” you retort, lifting an eyebrow at him, your neck tingling from the strain of looking up due to his height. God, he’s such a big man. Big and burly and just enough to overwhelm you in a way that you crave so, so much.

“Nah. I want a kiss,” he confidently responds, blowing away the cloud of lust from around your head.

He’s too close and yet not close enough. He smells too good, looks too good with a voice that’s too deep and melodic for you to ride on logic for a full day, but you need him closer, so much closer and—

Your back brushes against the edge of the kitchen sink, making you tense at the realization that he’s backed you up against it and is looking down at you with that nasty smirk you entertain more than you should.

“You…” you begin, trailing off when one of his muscular arms reaches past you to rest onto the counter on one side, still giving you an escape route even though you’ll take being trapped against him any time of the day. “You already kissed me on the cheek when you walked in without asking me. Don’t be stingy.”

Toji clicks his tongue in disappointment, the sound pushing a rush of electricity down your spine that’s generating too much energy between your legs. He shrugs, broad shoulders pulling up and down, stretching his shirt in the most delicious way. “That’s not enough.”

Although lust is darkening your thoughts slowly despite your resolve, you still have enough common sense to remember the kind of woman you are. You’re someone unwilling to tolerate fuckboy behavior and would rather humiliate a man than give in to temptation that would only embarrass you in the future. You have to stay in control. Just for the rest of the day to measure his intentions with a level head. Even though you feel heavy with lidded eyes, you slip into that second skin of yourself with ease.

“Ask nicely,” you whisper.

He takes the bait—like they always do—and slinks further into your space, his broad and muscular form brushes against your softer one. Your gaze remains indifferent as he asks to kiss you in a sing-song voice that’s borderline annoying and teasing, threatening to make you laugh despite your resistance.

You take in his question with a noncommittal hum and slide a hand up the soft fabric of his chest. The muscles underneath flex and twitch beneath your palm, echoing memories of that unforgettable night when you could slide your fingers on the sweat of his abs as you rode him for all he was worth.

Your hand rests against his cheek, watching as he slowly falls for your trap, inhaling deeply with his lips a mere breath away from yours before you speak calmly and softly.

“No.”

You stroke his cheek in a soothing manner before patting it a little too hard that’s close to a smack, yanking a grunt of frustration from him as he pulls away with an bothered growl. You relish in the sigh of his scar twisting when his face curls with annoyance, his eyes rolling and his arms folding across his chest like a child being denied dessert. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your lips, growing in intensity as his eyes narrow at you.

“You’re so damn annoying,” he pouts, and the fact that he truly looks put off for not getting a kiss only makes you laugh harder.

***

The sight and sound of cheering fans excite you, filling you with childhood memories of games with your father. As the four of you make your way through the large parking lot and in the direction of the stadium, you take in the display of emotions that cross Toji’s face as he is immersed in a part of culture unfamiliar to him. The intricacies of American sports are puzzling to Toji, you realize. While you wave excitedly to the fans who are tailgating and grilling food and playing cornhole, he looks on in disbelief. When you explain the concept of tailgating to him, his expression deepens even more. He doesn’t like the hecklers that litter right outside the entrance and try to sell nosebleed tickets twelve times the market price. He thinks porta-pottys are foul as he takes in the long line of people who wait along the side of the large parking lot. You can tell he’s a little overwhelmed, and aggravated by the new things he learns. But he doesn’t complain, content to listen to the three of you as he watches his surroundings.

Despite the array of emotions that engulf him, he keeps you by his side without a second thought. The closer you get to the stadium, the thicker the crowd gets. When you make it through security and begin the long journey up the stone circular walkway of the stadium, Toji wraps a muscular arm around you and rests his hand on your hip in a grip that conveys a protective strength that shoots fluctuating reactions through you.

At first, you think he just wants his hands on you, and you’re prepared to smack his touch away. But then your perception shifts; a random man bumps into you with a sharp elbow into your arm and he turns around with an angry expression ready to yell. The glare that Toji levels at him leaves the man sputtering and apologizing before he slinks back into the crowd.

Normally, you don’t thrive off blatant displays of masculinity, but the sight of the man running away from Toji’s imposing stare makes your stomach fill with a deep-seated lust that surprises you. Like you’re a cavewoman, watching her caveman beat at his chest when another caveman gets too close to you. Toji grumbles to himself about the sheer number of people, his voice tinged with frustration even though his reassuring touch is gentle as he guides you through the throng of people toward your seats.

Thankfully, they aren’t nosebleeds, and they give you a good view of the field, with players already warming up. There is a large group of kids who hang off the rails, squealing in delight as their favorite players come and say hello and sign their jerseys and footballs. The speakers boom with music and commercial ads, the warm air carries the smell of popcorn up your nose, and your blood pumps in excitement.

It has been a while since you attended a football game, distant memories of sitting on your father’s shoulders as you both cheered in the stands. Since his death, you haven’t had the drive nor the time to attend another. So, to be in this position again with a man you are still trying to understand, it’s odd. But it’s not unwelcome and you’re going to enjoy every minute of it. When you watch football at home with your family, you’re a different person. You are loud and unashamed to express your feelings when you watch the games unfold. You stand up and sneer and bark at the officiant who can’t even hear you. You argue with your family about plays and players who will never know you. You love every emotion that the game brings out in you, and you’re unashamed to hide it. Toji is going to see a side of you that will either push him away or make him slink closer for more.

So, when the game begins with the kickoff, you join in the collective screams of the crowd, waving a towel in the air adorned with the yellow and black of your favorite team that is playing.

To your surprise once more, Toji did his homework. He effortlessly explains the rules as you both watch the first quarter together, looking to you for approval to make sure he’s correct. His attentive nature transforms into active participation as he cheers alongside you, his voice deep and booming compared to your screeching.

In the second quarter, there’s an injury on the field and the clash of pads ceases for long enough that fans leave their seats for food and to stretch their legs. Shiu and Rene disappear to get themselves a drink and it’s just you and Toji in the middle of empty seats.

“You’re a screamer,” he teases, his voice low and appreciative as he leans on his thigh with a cheek resting on his fist. His hair flows in the warm air before settling on pale cheeks.

“Too loud for you?” you retort, even if mildly curious about what he thinks of this side of yourself.

Toji purses his lips as he regards you with relaxed eyes. “It didn’t take me long to realize you’re not a dainty little thing. And besides,” A smile stretches across his face, white teeth glinting with a sinister disposition before his lips load with a remark you know will be salacious. “I like my women loud.”

You can be loud if he wants you to be. Preferably in another place besides your car where he can thrust like a man mad between your legs and dig those gleaming white teeth into the skin of your neck—

Oh.

For fuck’s sake. 

Your blood simmers in your veins at the suggestion in his words. His eyes watch your throat when you swallow a thick pool of spit and that smile grows impossibly larger, a Cheshire cat looking at you with nasty intent. He’s too aware of the effect he has on women, and you have to look away from him to resist succumbing to the seductive charm that he wields naturally.

You steer the conversation back into your hands. “You were so curious about me when we first met but I don’t know much about you. Are you here in America for a reason? What do you do for work?”

In your own line of work, observation is key; every subtle cue from your patients holds significance, revealing layers of truths that they usually try to conceal. So, when you notice the tension in Toji’s jaw at your question, the way his features contort subtly, it’s a detail you slot into a drawer of curiosity that takes part of the file cabinet of Toji in your mind.

“I’m a private investigator,” he confesses harshly, catching you off guard. It’s a revelation you don’t anticipate. His imposing features give you the impression of a firefighter or maybe even a cop. Not someone watching others in his car, bugging houses and apartments, and gathering evidence. A PI? You open that drawer of curiosity again and slot away this information as well. He shrugs away the awkwardness that your silence brings, nonchalant and dismissive, avoiding your gaze. “It pays the bills. The hours suck sometimes but…the work is easy.”

“So…naturally I can’t really ask about the things you do?” you don’t hide the inquisitiveness that coats your words.

“It’s nothing glamorous enough to talk about.” And that’s all he offers you in response.

You have a myriad of questions swirling in your mind, each vying for attention from a man who is as tight-lipped as you. How did he even get into this kind of work? Who are his clients? Cheaters, embezzlers…or criminals?

That and so much more brew in your mind, tumbling over the other but ultimately dissipating when you sense his reluctance, evident from his still-averted gaze and tense shoulders.

“What about family? You asked me about mine, but I never got to hear about yours.”

Granted, you only told him about the members of your family who danced in your backyard when you both were wrapped in one another two weeks ago. He doesn’t know about the more intimate parts of your family life. He doesn’t know about your father’s death, or the estrangement of your stepfamily. But that can come later. Toji hasn’t given you enough of himself.

Toji’s features now morph into disdain, souring the air between you. The bright emerald of his eyes dims with a grayish overcast, the liquid of the irises hardening like cooling lava.

His response is terse, laced with palpable displeasure that intensifies the acrid taste in the air. “There isn’t much to tell. I don’t get along with them, and they do their best to not get along with me either.” The timbre of his voice is lower, menacing enough to let you know it’s a subject he won’t entertain. At least for right now.

You open your mouth to speak again, to maybe apologize for making him uncomfortable, to reassure him that you wouldn’t judge him over something like this. He shifts in his seat, clasps his hands together and absentmindedly picks at a callous on the side of his thumb. The pink flush on his cheeks is not one of bashfulness, but of frustration and embarrassment. From the sliver of his eyes you can see, there is something simmering beneath the surface that might take you a while to unveil.

 “I do have a son, though.” The sentence shoots into the air and down your spine with a chilling clarity, breaking the flow of your thoughts as you blink in astonishment.

Pardon???

Considering he’s a grown man a few years older than you, it’s understandable. But the notion of him being a father never crossed your mind. The concept of children isn’t foreign to you; you see and take care of them every day. It’s the concept of children coming from him that’s a new development you have to consider.

While you believe you can handle a relationship with a single father, you’re upset at being told now, rather than before.

“You were with me all day two weeks ago and you never took the time to mention you have a son?”

You don’t hide your irritation. Once your trust is lost, it’s almost impossible to regain. Why would you give away sacred pieces of yourself to a man you wouldn’t trust to hold those pieces with care?

Despite your frustration, you rationalize.

Maybe Toji was nervous to bring it up? Some people may like to ease into such topics. This relationship, or whatever this is, is brand new and smooth. There haven’t been any cracks caused by arguments or behavior that is damaging.

But this isn’t about having a job that he’s not proud of or admitting that he is not financially responsible. This is about an entire child, a facet of his life that he cannot hide away. How long would he have waited to tell you if the topic of family hadn’t come up so soon? Would he have told you? Would he hide his son away and push him off to a babysitter on date nights so you are never aware? Would he sleep over at your house, so you can’t see the room that’s decorated for a child or the toys scattered about the floor?

As you wrestle with the growing anxiety that crawls across your skin, Toji fumbles for something in his pocket, his face a satisfying beet red as you watch him hand you his open phone. Bright from the illumination of the screen, you take in a picture of a young boy who bears a striking resemblance to Toji. His raven locks spiky and disheveled, his green eyes sharp and ethereal, and he wears a bored and calm expression just like his father. The chubbiness of his cheeks and innocence in his eyes tug at something in your chest; he can’t be any older than six years old. The sight of the boy makes you think of the many kids you take care of every day, and some of the frustration subsides within you.

“His name is Megumi,” he informs you, shy despite his rough exterior. He picks at the callous on the side of his thumb again, and one of his legs begins to shake in place.

The frustration dies down more. It’s a beautiful name, and as you look at the picture, a small smile tugs at your lips. You wonder what kind of a boy he is.

“Fuck listen—just I-I’m shit at this.”

You look up at him and take in the apprehension on his face. His lips are downturned in a gentle frown, the scar on the side of his face warped along with the muscles of his mouth. There’s a sense of shame in his gaze, and it somehow makes you feel relieved to know that he can feel just how upset you are.

“I don’t date women…I fuck them and stay around until they want me gone.” He doesn’t bother to sugarcoat his words. They shoot out of his mouth, piercing your skin with their directness. It’s a little painful, and you struggle to absorb his blatant honesty, feeling flashes of anger and indignation fill your chest as your lips part, ready to respond with directness of your own. “But you’re the first woman in a long fucking time that’s made me want more. So just…” he trails off, stuttering over what to say before ultimately growling low in his throat into silence.

You hesitate, lips flinching and syllables of fury dissipating in the small space between your top and bottom lip. “You gonna let me meet him?” you snap because you’re still mildly irritated as you give him his phone and pinch the muscle of his bicep with a harshness that reflects your fading anger and your desire to see him squirm for his actions.

He swats your hand away as if you’re a pest, moving his arm from you with a sneer that holds no malice. “No let me just lock him in my closet every time I want to see you—of course, I’ll fucking let you meet him.”

You throw him a withering glare, ignoring his sarcasm, and the smirk that slides onto his lips only makes you want to either smack or kiss him. The fact that you can’t decide on which only annoys you more.

*** Toji ***

“Gimme two hot dogs and a pretzel,” Toji mutters to the concession stand attendant. It’s halftime, and the walkways behind the stands are crowded with fans hurrying to go to the bathroom, or for more food and alcohol. You stand close to him, a welcome warmth that he wants more of but refuses to ask for on the off chance you deny him. He doesn’t feel like pouting for the rest of the day.

“And what’ll it be for the lady?” the attendant asks with a level of humor that is off-putting, a smile on his face that Toji knows you itch to smack off.

“It is for the lady,” you correct, a hint of condescension falling from plush lips that you still won’t let him taste. The attendant sputters, his face red as a tomato as he takes the rest of Toji’s order, doing his best to ignore the deadly glare you shoot him as he counts Toji’s money. A snort rattles from Toji’s chest as he watches you. He’s known from the beginning that you’re fiery, but seeing it firsthand fascinates and arouses him at the same time.

This environment is different for him, odd in every way, and a foreign ground that he’s unsteady on. The celebratory atmosphere reminds him of the loud laughter and fireworks from festivals that he could hear outside the Zenin compound throughout the year. He thinks of the Tanabata festivals he never got to experience or the years of Hanami that he was forbidden to enjoy. He could only take a small bit of pleasure in cherry blossoms in the Zenin gardens, blooming and scattering their petals on the well-kept grass to mark the beginning of the season. As a child, he was never allowed much. He was seen as ‘inferior trash’ that was insignificant and unworthy to be looked at let alone talked to unless it was to yell or belittle. Naturally, his family didn’t want others to see where said trash came from if they could help it.

He can’t think about it right now—he won’t. The thought of his family brings a tight coil of pain and anger in his chest, a coil he had used as fuel to cope with his dangerous decisions.

There’s so much more that he needs to focus on, like the fact that you’ve already taken a big bite out of one of your hot dogs. Half of it has disappeared from your hand, and there’s ketchup on the edge of your mouth as you chew. He notices the way you shift your hips from side to side in your seat, and the satisfied hum that escapes your throat. You’re satisfied, and while you eat with manners, you don’t hide your boisterous enjoyment, finishing one hot dog and moving on to the next, your pretzel wedged between the meat of your seductive thighs.

He’s been trying to be respectful all day ever since you denied him a kiss in the kitchen, but you’re tempting him. When you answered the door earlier in the afternoon, the hand that was in his pocket pinched the side of his thigh until the shameless thoughts could fade away.

You’ve graced his presence with shorts and a jersey, a yellow and black number that lays against your chocolate skin in a way that still seems to make you glow in the setting sun. No braids this time, your natural curls have fallen from your bun after screaming so much, framing your face and causing your gold hoops to wink at him. You didn’t wear makeup that night when he met you, so the sight of eyeliner on you today, and the way it accentuates the curve of your eye and the heaviness of your long lashes, it makes him shift in his seat.

He’s had to clench his jaw and bear the pain of his teeth grinding against each other to stop himself from ogling at the mouth-watering canvas of your legs. You’re all curves with dimples at the bottom of your thighs when you sit, and his gums ache to sink into the flesh so you can squeal and beg for him to touch you where you want it most. It’s been weeks since that night and he’s feigning for more. When you smile at him or shoot him a glare, it reminds him of that commanding aura you had in the backseat of your truck, and the back of his neck prickles with sweat.

While the thought of you skinning him alive if he decides to be a Neanderthal turns him on, he wants to be civil. In your kitchen earlier today, you allowed him to get close enough to feel the heat radiating from your skin, to catch the scent of coconut from your curls, tantalizing his senses until your firm ‘no’ sobered him up immediately. It was a stark reminder of who you are, and how little you tolerate.

He'll behave.

His eyes catch you guzzling down five heaping gulps of your beer, the foam coating your upper lip. You wipe it away with your finger, sucking the digit into your mouth, and popping it out completely oblivious to how sinful you look and Toji’s catapulted into that day when you sucked your own cum off his fingers.

He has to behave.

The vibration of his phone in his pocket sours his mood immediately, turning his gaze from your form as he digs into his pocket. It’s the third time it’s buzzed today, and he knows who it is. No matter how hard he tries to ignore it, he can only put off his job for so long.

Unknown: Good job on the assignment last week. 

Unknown: Your pay should be in your account by tonight.

Unknown: There’s another contract for you if you’re interested. Message me back and I’ll send you details.

“Everything okay?” Your voice pulls him from his phone, and he meets your curious gaze, one of your elegant eyebrows lifting in question as you assess him. “Something with work?”

“Yea,” he replies and regrets it immediately.

Lie #1

It’s not a complete lie—it is work—but the details…

Toji takes a long swig of his beer, attempting to soothe the shame that washes over him.

You really are a screamer.

Toji sits back in his seat, watching you with a wicked smile as you unleash a torrent of colorful language that makes his cock twitch. Even though you roar with the crowd, your voice rises higher.

“That’s a fucking flag! I should come down there and officiate for you instead you stupid piece of shit!”

Your curls brush the skin of your cheeks that puff in your frustration, your arms folding across your chest as you cock your hip and growl beneath your breath. You’re easily the loudest one in this section of the stands. Rene revels in it, egging you on by rooting for the opposite team and giggling when you bark at her. Shiu is content to watch the display, a fresh toothpick in his mouth and an arm over Rene’s shoulders as he idly twirls a lock of hair at her nape. You’re all yelling and sputtering indignation as you watch the game unfold, your team losing by what Toji has learned is a touchdown.

He knew this side of you was there. He could tell in the weight of your gaze that night. It's a side of you that he did not expect to see so soon. He soaks it in. He takes in the way you cuss out the man three rows down who won’t stop glaring at you. He absorbs how high-pitched the screech of your voice makes his eardrums shake, and he revels in the smile that forms on your lips when your team scores the game-winning touchdown.

When there are lulls in the game, you tell him about your career. You’re a pulmonary pediatric fellow at a hospital here in town that’s only a year and a half from completing your fellowship. You smile when you talk about the kids you take care of and your associates at work. You’re proud of your research and of how far you’ve come.

All of it, every part of you that you show him, is comforting. Warm despite how cold you appear. It’s a comfort he didn’t imagine having…ever in his life—especially a dreary life like his. But he soaks up this—you—as much as he can.

When the game is over, you’re elated and giggling, tucked into his side as he guides you through the drunken crowd. The moon is high in the sky, and it bathes your skin and makes you stand out in the crowd. You look up at him, smiling softly with a buzzed gaze that’s two beers deep.

“Did you have fun? Not bad for your first American game?”

“You screamed the entire time,” he teases, chuckling at the way you gape up at him and then sneer before turning away. He throws his arm around your shoulders, using the touch as a safe territory to keep his hands to himself, and pulls you closer.

You demand cotton candy which he indulges in as well before you both part ways with Rene and Shiu. The journey back to your apartment is a quiet one. As Toji drives, the warm July air fills the car, mingling with the faint strains of classic rock playing on the radio. Toji watches with flickering glances as you hum along, your eyes closed and the breeze wafting through your curls loose around your shoulders.

Something inside of him rattles. Whatever it is, it’s long-forgotten and buried deep within him, surrounded by cobwebs and dust that have accumulated over time since that dark day years ago.

*** You ***

From the short journey of his car to inside of your apartment, you repeat to yourself that you have to take this slow, for your own peace of mind.

You keep the most intimate parts of yourself locked away and only those who are worthy of you have a copy of the key. But somehow, and in such a short time, Toji has stolen a copy for himself and slotted the key into the door. But thankfully, the door is caught against the wall, hinges rusted over and ungiving.

You have to know more about him before you let him in to look at those parts of you. If you jump the gun and give him more so soon and end up hurt, it will throw you into a depth of pain that you promised yourself to never touch again if you could help it.

“You have a good time?”

Toji’s voice breaks the silence, his arms folding tightly across his chest, betraying the restlessness in his hands. His messy black locks, tousled by the late July humidity, partially hide his emerald gaze, which flickers briefly to meet your own before darting away.

Your socked feet pad across the hardwood floor, closing the space between you, and your head slowly tilts to look at him. Despite his façade of composure, his scar curves against his lips in a slight twist, twitching as he tries not to frown. Thin eyebrows pitch down in frustration, and you catch the way his fingertips drum against the skin of his biceps. He’s fidgety—nervous. Is he upset with himself? Ashamed that he couldn’t take you out on a proper date with dinner and a movie like everyone else expects?

Hopefully, he will learn that you go against the grain of proper in so many ways.

“I had a great time,” you confess softly, noticing the subtle relaxation in his stance at your words. The thrumming of his fingers stop, the tension in his shoulder fades. “You wanted to take me out and I let you. That all you want from me?”

He’s such an expressive man.

His face twists, perturbed by your bluntness and the prospect of delving into emotional territory. “I told you already that I want more.”

His declaration sends a fluttering through your heart that is reminiscent of the feeling you had when he surprised you with a slice of yellow cake. It’s comforting, and you want to lean into it. But it’s not enough to overwhelm you. You’re still in your right mind and still aware of your expectations even though he captivates you.

You press your finger into the firmness of his chest, hard so that the muscle pillows around your digit. The gaze you shoot up at him is unyielding, serious, and menacing enough that he straightens his spine just a little.

“Listen to me, because I’m only going to say this one more time. I don’t do situationships. I don’t do friends with benefits or the occasional hookup. I’m not saying things need to be serious with us but…you need to show me that you mean it.”

As you speak, you assess Toji, who shows no signs of amusement or ignorance. His posture is rigid, his back ramrod straight, and his deep green gaze locked onto yours.

“That night we had was great. I won’t deny that but…I won’t compromise my expectations and I don’t tolerate bullshit. I’m not going to let you fuck me just because we did it before. You want more? I want you to try. Earn me.”

You relish in the way his eyes widen, contemplating your words and the severity beneath them before his face smooths back into its usual cool demeanor. He unfolds his arms from his chest, and you curse inwardly at the way you immediately watch his shirt stretch across defined pectorals.

“You know you’re a feisty little thing.”

Heat from the way he speaks and annoyance at his lack of attention flare within you like wildfire. You open your mouth to yell, to bark at him to be serious, but the sound of his laughter extinguishes that fire inside of you instantly.

He doesn’t offer an apology for his comment and you don’t need one. You know you’re feisty and steadfast. It’s the only way you can function around men to survive, to stay afloat and still have a grasp of who you are. And if Toji couldn’t handle it, you definitely wouldn’t have slept with him or entertained a date that you thoroughly enjoyed.

“I’ll try,” he finally offers, voice soft but filled with conviction. Normally the small remark would offend you, but surprisingly coming from Toji, it’s enough.

Observing his behavior today and a little bit two weeks ago, you note his acceptance of your quirks and individuality—at least the bits you allow him to see. He marveled at the amount of food you ate and joined alongside you. He let you babble to him about every single player on your favorite team and how many championships they had won. He let you display your strength in your voice and personality, didn’t try to control or overshadow you like so many other past experiences you’ve had before learning how to rule the men in your life.

He let you be yourself.

And that thought makes you finally open your mouth to give him something he had asked for earlier, something you had previously denied despite your own desires.

“You can have your kiss,” you offer with a shrug, feigning nonchalance even though your heart picks up in speed as the implication registers on his face. “So you better do it right.”

It’s an invitation that he snatches away from your imaginary hands and tears open with thick fingers, greedy and growling with finality.

His sharp gaze traces the contours of your body, unabashed in its appraisal, leering at the pieces of skin visible to him. You know he’s been looking at you all day, but his observation now is intense, heavy and without reservation and you’re fumbling from the sudden rush of longing that pumps hot through your veins.

Toji inches closer, your hands instinctively find their way to his chest, his towering presence overwhelming your small stature. His height ignites an evolutionary desire in you that makes your mouth water, makes your cunt pulse with need beckoning for him to fill the mold he left inside two weeks ago. You’re still not used to climbing up the summit of him, so the air is thin once more, pulling the oxygen from your lungs and stuttering in your chest when a large hand cups the side of your neck and tilts your face up to him like an offering.

When his lips slide against yours, your fingers in his shirt tighten. His touch singes the ends of your nerves, boils the blood in your veins that pump fast throughout your body. Your skin is burning, searing when muscular arms hoist you up and wrap your legs around his thick waist before your ass is sliding on the cold marble of your kitchen counter, your lips still sealed against his.

There’s so much of this that feels like that night at your uncle’s. So much and yet not enough.

He drowns you with his touch, digs his fingers into the plump flesh of your thighs before yanking you, hard and with unforgiving impatience, closer to his body. The fabric of your jeans rubs too harsh against your wet panties, digs against the sensitivity of your clit and you repress the insatiable yearning to roll your hips against his.

Toji’s large hands slide up your body, traversing the mesh of your jersey that hugs you before cupping each side of your face again to tilt you sharper in the way he wants. Blue raspberry from the cotton candy you both indulged in after the game coats his tongue that licks your bottom lip in a silent request for entrance, and you grant him access, surrendering a whimper into his mouth as his tongue slides sinfully against yours. Tastebuds kiss your own, slide against them with whispered promise of satisfaction if you just relax and melt further into him. Just a little.

But you can’t, god you can’t.

You’re losing control and you have to stay strong. You have to stay above the waters of logical thinking even though you’re sinking with every stroke of his tongue, with every sweet, hot breath into your mouth, with every inch of flesh that your fingers dig into his chest because you need more. More than a kiss, more than what he’s offering, and you know he can give it to you. Toji can pull you into the inferno he’s raging inside of your body until your clothes are scorched off and his skin is sliding against yours sweaty, sticky, and undulating with every roll of his hips.

But he doesn’t give you more. He doesn’t pull you further into that fire.

The intensity of his kiss dies down slowly, his lips pulling away from yours with a wet smack as you pant along with him. Toji kisses your lips once, then twice, nips your bottom lip to seal everything he’s given before smirking down at you. Too devilish and arrogant and you don’t have a working brain cell in your head right now to correct him. His hands that cradle your cheeks slide down to your upper arms, giving them a gentle squeeze before he speaks.

“You still gonna let me be nice to you?”

His words are an echo of that night, his own way of telling you that he’s here. That he wants more—that he wants to give you more. You just have to let him.

With your head still swimming and the pulsing between your legs refusing to calm, you want him to be more than nice right now. But remembering the boundaries you have set, you nod instead and sigh into him when he kisses you one last time, sweeping his blue raspberry-flavored tongue against yours before pulling away, acting as though it’s nothing, as though you’re not sweaty at the small of your back and trembling with desire.

“Lock the door for me,” he commands, words devoid of a questioning tone, but filled with a sense of security and protection that you lean into.

“O-okay,” you manage to breathe, your heart slowing back into sinus rhythm, only to jump again as he places one final kiss on your lips, then your nose. You frantically bat him away before you lose consciousness, because any more and you’ll drag him into your room and disregard everything you said five minutes ago.

 You watch him saunter away, pull his keys from his pocket, and twirl them in his hand before winking. “I’ll text you.”

It sounds so ridiculous coming from his lips, from a grown man who looks as if he doesn’t even know what a cellphone is, let alone a text message.

But it still makes your heart jump all the same.

You can only nod in response because your throat is too dry and heavy in the back of your throat with each swallow you take. You follow him to the door and roll your eyes at his annoying smirk before he closes the door behind him, casting your apartment into silence.

Your fingers wobble as they turn the locks of your door into place. You’re lightheaded, brain flitting through salacious memories of what you both did weeks ago and what you could easily be doing now.

You throw your back against the door and sag to the floor with an annoyed sigh.

*** Toji ***

Unknown: There’s another contract for you if you’re interested. Message me back and I’ll send you details.

Toji: I’m interested. Send me what you have.

[henneseyhoe]

My Big Three As Boyfriends|

Trevante♡

You wanna have the perfect balance of a country boy and a city boy rolled into one? He’s the man for you!

His love feels like coming into a warm house after shoveling snow.

The first time you two ever kissed, my lady by Tyrese played in the background and since then ‘my lady’ with a brown heart has been your contact name.

He’ll sing any song you ask him to even though his ass can barely hold a tune in all seriousness.

Uncovering your ears, you start laughing. “Yes, sounds just like how Tyrese sung it” He smiles and takes a bow.

You try not to be the clingiest since he loves his space sometimes, but he definitely has his moments where he needs you near him like some kind of support teddy.

Hates when you all up on him when it’s time to sleep but always ends up damn near on top of you by the morning.

“Move, Bae, it’s hot” he groans. 8 hours later. “Tre…Trevante…baby, you crushin’ me!” You huff, trying to push his arm and leg off of you so you could go pee.

He’ll blame you as if your little ass can move him from one side of the bed to the other.

Expect booty slaps every time you walk by, and don’t let him be upset with you prior, cause it’ll be harder this time.

“Tight ass shorts” he’d say as you walked around the house as free as you wanted in the Nike shorts HE bought you.

Often play fighting and roughhousing until he accidentally hits you too hard and has to be soft with you for the rest of the day.

“Awwnnn, cmere, I didn’t think it was gonna land that hard” he holds you as you pout, rubbing your now sore arm. “That actually hurt, Tre. Like seriously 🥺”

He makes fun of the Erotic books you read, but you caught him peaking over your shoulder once and following along with one of your favorite stories.

“Don’t get too hype, I peeped something and the shit was interesting!”

Has a habit of putting his hand up your shirt when you two are cuddling.

He hates when you leave for work because he works mornings and you work nights. Sometimes on his day offs(though a bad idea) he’d stay up at night and bother you on the phone all throughout your work, dropping hints that you needed to come home on your snack break for a real meal.

-you’d brush him off and sneak off to the bathroom, sending him a titty pic to hold him off till you got home.

-‘oh wow. I just might take a trip instead actually’

-He’s definitely already taken trips up there a few times to get you right, as he should.

Michael♡

A REAL certified loverboy

If you told him to jump, he’d ask how high.

He would never admit it but he is CLINGY. He wants to be with you and all up under you as soon as those paparazzi cameras turn off.

Also certified double texter.

‘babe’ ‘Y/N’ ‘Y/N’ ‘Y/N’ ‘babe’

‘don’t act like you don’t see these texts’

‘WHAT boy’

‘I miss you’ ‘wyd my love’

‘working. Something you should be busy doin’

‘I finished already’

‘Fast reader you are. Here’s a gold star⭐️’

‘What can I say? You’re engaged to a smart man’

‘Engaged?’

Boo🩷 has unsent a message.

‘Forget you read that till further notice’

The man can’t hold water, as you can see. Which is why you don’t tell him anything that’s meant to be a secret.

He literally can’t sleep without your leg thrown over him some kind of way.

He remembers all the cute little shit you like year around so he already has a laid out plan of gifts for Birthdays, Valentines, and Christmas.

A good bit of his camera roll is just you and screenshots of things he wants to keep tabs of.

Can’t organize for shit and that’s exactly why his phone storage is about to explode

Begged you to organize his work stuff, so you agreed, until you saw NOTHING was put where it’s supposed to go.

“how do you work like this?!”

“I honestly don’t know…I- I do not know” he responds, staring at the unorganized files.

“Your assistant doesn’t take care of this stuff?”

“I don’t like to bother her like that”

“Nigga, she’s an assistant, she’s supposed to be bothered!”

Thursdays were self care days for you two. Wether you were just sitting around and watching a movie or doing actual things to improve the body, it was still self care to y’all.

Both of you are foodies, but he’s more adventurous, so he always tries to get you to try new foods when out together.

“would you ever try live squid?” He asks, looking through the menu the restaurant provided for them. “Uhh..I dunno. I don’t think I’d like it, but I’d probably try. Just have to ignore the memory of that story of that man who ate a live squid and it killed him and crawled back up his throat” he stares at you for a moment then looks back down at his menu. “Never mind then…”

Soooo protective of you and thinks you don’t stand up for yourself enough so he always makes sure you’re heard in any and all conversations.

Takes any chance to show you off. Was it cause he genuinely loved you or was it cause he liked showing niggas what they’ll never have? Both actually.

“Oh, and y’all know my girl, right? My beautiful, wonderful girlfriend” he grabs you by the hand, and kisses the top of it, pulling your attention away from your drink. You smile and look away, feeling extra appreciated.

Gentlemen in the streets, freak nasty in the sheets.

You ever came so hard that it took a few seconds for your vision to come back? Yeah.

Yahya♡

The dynamic between the both of you is just very unserious. He is truly your bestfriend who also happens to be your boyfriend

It’s hard to get anything done when the both of you are constantly cracking jokes back and forth, a con of having the same job.

“Yahya, please, my stomach hurts!” you spoke in between laughs, tears prickling the both of y’all’s eyes as you tried to make it through a SINGULAR business email. “How the fuck do you misspell so much shit on a business email?!” He howled, wiping tears from his face and slouching in his seat, you still crying.

He blames you for when he doesn’t get much work done, but he knows damn well it’s his fault for being the goofy mf he is.

When you two were just friends, your mutual friends would tease him by calling him “boy Y/N” because you both had so much in common.

He’s your reminder to eat like a normal person

“What’d you eat today?” Yahya questions, reading over his weekly to-do list. You glare at him then look back at your computer, not answering because you didn’t wanna hear his mouth about you forgetting to eat. Sighing, he gets up and heads into the kitchen to make you something quick.

At first the relationship felt like you two were still just friends, but you both grew into being a little more intimate with each other.

You both can’t help but create small(but healthy) competitions. You were both a little more competitive than you’d like to admit, but you both had competitions so often that basically everyone you guys hung out with knew of them.

“Damn” You sigh as you watched your paper ball miss the trash basket. “Hm” Yahya hums and gets up, picking the paper ball up. Instead of throwing it away right then, he went back to his seat that was a bit farther back and took a shot, the paper effortlessly making it in the basket. You look back at him with a squint and he smirks. “Okay, bet” you whisper.

Ten minutes had gone by and you both were throwing balled up paper that you needed in the trash. To make what point? Neither of you knew, but you both were entertained.

Theres a box in his closet with Polaroid pictures of you two throughout the five years of dating each other, most taken by Yahya himself because in his words, “I just love looking at you. Pictures don’t even capture all that I see, but damn, baby”

The man could easily make you melt like some chocolate. He was just as smooth as he was when you first met him.

Once you both got more into the relationship, he was honestly the most romantic and caring person ever. He’d do anything to make you feel those butterflies.

Sent you on a corny little riddle game for Valentine’s Day once which lead you to some of your favorite places around the city until the last clue brought you home to three bouquets of your favorite flowers and a ring the size of your brown eyes.

Alexa, play whatever you want by Tony! Toni! Toné!

Some niggas don’t trick, but Yahya? Oh he’s gonna step. In the end, if you’re happy, he’s happy.

The night ended with something else a little more eventful that had the neighbors thinking to call the cops for the third time that month.

He plans on staying with you for the rest of his life, and made that know.

And he’s determined to put a baby in you one of these days, with or without that damn ring.

✮✮✮✮

Looks and bias aside, who would y’all pick as a boyfriend? 🫣 I think I’d pick Yahya 😭

[green-eyedfirework]

To say this is a surprise is an understatement.

Slade made the offer in seriousness, though perhaps not fully.  It’s the first offer he’s made since Adeline’s passing and while it’s been four years, long enough for the grieving period to be over, he hasn’t given full thought to remarrying.  He has his hands full, with Grant’s sullenness and Joey’s muteness and then the addition of Rose, and the idea of finding a new mate was a distant one.

Richard Grayson is handsome, to be sure, and charming, a jewel of the Wayne pack with no shortage of admirers.  His introduction to society was unfortunately followed by his father’s disappearance and the flurry of a mourning period it prompted, cutting off courtships for a few years.  Lord Wayne was thankfully found a few months ago, but it appears he’s not quite all the way well, because Richard and his siblings arrived in London on their own this season.

They’ve been fawned over at every turn, a sickening display that Slade’s mostly avoided, but he ran into Richard quite by chance when Rose went missing on an outing at the park.  He found her with Wayne’s little brat of an heir, both kids shrieking gleefully under Richard’s fond supervision.  Once the children made friends, there was, of course, no escaping the interactions, and Slade watched with increasing desire as Richard calmly and evenly handled two sets of hellions with admirable ease.

The omega is young but mature, gracious and kind but also stubborn.  Protective of his packmates, of children no matter who they are.  Pretty.  Rich.  Enough hints of fire to pique Slade’s interest.

When Joey all but clambered into Slade’s lap to solemnly demand that Dick join their pack, his interest finally solidified into an offer.  Even Grant only made a huff at the proposition, a ringing endorsement from the sullen teen, and Rose was willing to do anything to ensure she keeps her playmate.

So Slade sent his offer, serious but expecting nothing of it.  For all the reasons Slade wants him, Grayson has a hundred admirers, younger, richer, belonging to more powerful families.  Slade is a widower with three children and Richard is the eldest omega of the Wayne pack, he didn’t imagine it would be taken seriously.

“Forgive me, but I have to be blunt,” Slade said, crossing his arms on his desk and leaning forward.  “Why?”

Richard is sitting in the seat opposite, straight-backed, shoulders relaxed, hands resting in his lap.  He radiates tension despite it.

“You were the one who made the offer, my lord,” Richard says evenly.  “Are you rescinding it?”

“I’m asking you why you’re accepting it,” Slade says flatly.  He has no patience for games.  “I’m nearly twice your age, with three children.  I cannot possibly be your best offer.”

“If you’re so certain I wouldn’t accept, why did you offer at all?”

Yet another question answered with a question.  If he wasn’t already suspicious, the deflections would cement it.

Slade narrows his eye.  “Don’t play naïve, boy, it doesn’t suit you.”  Something flickers in Richard’s eyes, there and gone.  “If I’m your choice, then there’s something you’re hiding.”  He drops his voice to a growl, “And I don’t like secrets near my family.  Not after what the last one did.”

Richard drops his gaze and swallows, shoulders hunching, giving into the anxiety hovering around him like a cloud.  Slade gives him a minute.  If he still won’t speak, Slade will have him thrown out.  The children will be unhappy, but better unhappy than maimed.

“I—I was—I am,” Richard swallows, tries again, swallows, tries again.  “It’s just—I wasn’t—I—”

“Just spit it out,” Slade snaps.

Richard doesn’t flinch, but he does draw in a deep breath, and when he exhales, he looks up to meet Slade’s gaze.  “I know that your lordship already has three children.  I was hoping that someone of your position, with an assured line of succession, would be more amenable to taking a mate with prior engagement in behaviors that might threaten the parentage of any heirs.  If I was wrong, I hope we can resolve this amicably and restore the goodwill between our packs.  It was never my intention to bring any harm to your pack.”

Slade takes a moment to sort through all of it.  Richard is ashen, but still keeping Slade’s gaze, sitting prim and proper as though he hasn’t just admitted to being ruined.

“You’re not chaste,” Slade says finally, leaning back.

“No,” Richard says.  His hands are clenched in his lap.

“Who?” Slade asks.

It’s not precisely idle curiosity, not with the darker parts of him wanting to shred to pieces anyone who dared to taste the omega.  An earlier courtship, maybe, one cut off by Lord Wayne’s disappearance and never resumed?  Slade knows that betrothed omegas and alphas will fool around, hiding away from their chaperones, not thinking about the consequences should the agreement be broken off.

“Does it matter?”  Richard’s jaw is tight.

Slade raises an eyebrow.  “If you want to reach an agreement, yes.”

Richard takes a controlled breath and looks away.  “Lord Desmond,” he says sharply.  That isn’t what Slade was expecting.  “It happened years ago.  It will never happen again, I swear it.  There was no one else.”

[gravehags]

ain't it a gentle sound

Pairing: Dewdrop x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: ghouls being ghouls, ghouls being horny, finger fucking

Words: 2,201

Summary: Swiss warned you about the other ghouls. You weren't prepared for an encounter like this.

a/n: sequel to the undone and the divine. i've decided this is now part of what i'm going to be calling the ghoul bicycle series because clearly reader needs to get railed by every ghoul and ghoulette to fulfill their destiny of becoming ghoul consort. so be it.

~~~

“Hey,” Swiss says quietly as he watches you hook the back of your bra. “I think I should give you a heads up about something.”

You lean over to shimmy your breasts into the cups and when you straighten your back to meet his gaze, he looks nervous.

“What?” you ask slowly, eyes narrowing. 

“Remember what I said about uh…marking you?”

Your hand flies to your neck to rub against the various purple bites that decorated your throat. You had almost forgotten he had done that and you sigh when the realization hits you that you won’t be able to hide all of them with your habit. Ah well.

“They’ll fade soon, yeah?” you say, bending over to pick up your shirt off his bedroom floor. “But I like them, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

He flashes you that signature megawatt smile and preens a little before remembering what he was intending to tell you.

“I’m glad but er…just letting you know. When the other ghouls learn that we’ve…been together…they’re going to start approaching you.”

“For? I–oh. Oh.” You remember what the other ghouls told you yesterday about how they’ve all been into you. “But now that I’m, y’know, not a virgin anymore won’t things change? Surely I’ll smell different. Whatever that means.”

“Yeah, you’ll smell different,” Swiss says, his voice going up a few octaves. “You’ll smell like ghoul.”

You finish adjusting your shirt and put your hands on your hips to look at him dead on.

“Swiss, what exactly are you trying to say here?”

He heaves a deep sigh and scratches the side of his head, tail flicking behind him anxiously.

“The thing about ghouls is we…we share everything.”

Oh.

“Everything,” you say flatly, to which he nods emphatically with a slightly sheepish smile. You must have quite the expression on your face as his grin rapidly fades and he approaches you, arms extended.

“Hey listen,” he says as he puts his hands on your shoulders, massaging gently, “if you’re not into it I get it. You can tell them to fuck off. I’ll tell them to fuck off.”

Your eyes move from his chest up to his earnest gaze and the slightest hint of a grin curls your lips. Suddenly you’re filled with warmth at the thought of this frankly stunning group of ghouls and ghoulettes expressing interest in little old you. Swiss can practically see the string of filth going through your head as your eyes glaze over a little and he snickers.

“Check you out,” he says slyly, “I’ve made a little deviant out of you, huh? Get dicked down once and all of a sudden–”

Before he can finish the sentence, you shove him away and roll your eyes, but your cheeks flush because he’s right. And he knows it.

“Fuck off,” you snarl with no real malice behind it. “I was a virgin, not fucking ignorant. I know what gets me off.”

Swiss has his head thrown back, positively crowing and you make a noise of disgust as you move to the door.

“Hey!” he says, reaching out to grab you one more time and pull you in to kiss the top of your head. “Have fun.”

–

After you shut Swiss’ door you make your way down the long hallway and out of the den. Your mind is spinning with the possibilities - what would the other ghouls say to you? How would they act? The thrill of anticipation has you practically bouncing on your way back to your quarters.

Little did you know you were setting yourself up for disappointment.

A couple weeks passed and you hadn’t even seen a ghoul - none passed you in the halls, none visited you at your quarters, none sought you out in the dining hall - let alone been propositioned by one. You saw Swiss only in passing, his time consumed with practice and whatever ghoul duties entailed and you had duties of your own to complete. Frankly, you were starting to feel a bit put-out and began wondering if there was something wrong with you. Why else would all of them, who you had until recently called friends, avoid you so desperately? These are the thoughts that echo through your mind late one evening as you work library duty. The other siblings had left early after you told them you would finish shelving the remaining carts of books on your own. Tears begin to well in your eyes as you shove a particularly large tome on binding magic into its place on the shelf. Annoyed, you brush them away with the back of your hand and shake your head to clear your thoughts. You’re about to pick up another book when a low voice calls out from the stacks across the aisle from you.

“Why the tears, sweetheart?”

You whirl around and see a slight figure emerge from the darkness, eyes glowing. Your heart skips a beat when the ghoul steps into the dim light of the overhead lamp.

“Dew! Lilith’s tits where the fuck did you come from?”

“Hell,” he says simply as he saunters over to you with his hands in his pockets, tail swaying lazily behind him. You give him a tired look and he grins, revealing sharp teeth.

“Been a while,” you begin rather coldly. “Funny how you all just disappeared and decided not to speak to me anymore.”

Dew frowns as he traces the gilded lettering of a book on the desk with a single claw.

“We were waiting.”

“For what?”

“For those fucking hickeys Swiss gave you to disappear. Fucking dramatic, I told you. Making sure all of us knew what he did with you.”

Your irritation melts away and is replaced with something much warmer.

“So…what are you doing here?” you ask innocently, tapping your fingers against the desk.

“Called dibs on you didn’t I? I’m here to make good on that.”

You can feel the wetness between your thighs seep through your underwear and before you can utter another word, he’s on you. For someone so slim he’s alarmingly strong, pushing your back into the edge of the mahogany. His hand is threaded in your hair, cradling the back of your scalp with his lips a breath away from yours.

“Do you want me?” he asks, all slyness and sharp teeth.

You nod, your head still in his strong grip as he leans in to tease his lips against yours. When you press forward to meet them, he pulls back again with a little laugh.

“I want to hear you say it,” he purrs, claws scratching gently at your scalp. “Tell me.”

“I want you,” you say, the lowness of your voice startling you. “Here. Now.”

His smirk draws into a full sharp-toothed grin before he finally presses his lips to yours. His kiss is forceful, almost bruising as if he is trying to consume you. When you open your mouth to his probing he groans and fists your hair, licking into your mouth as he pushes you further into the edge of the desk. You can feel his cock pressing into your belly as he takes and takes from you, tail wrapping around you to rub at the small of your back. You barely manage to pull away to breathe, causing him to growl. When you finally pull back slightly despite his iron grip, you reach up to touch his face. He’s taken aback by the tenderness of the gesture and nuzzles into your hand ever-so-slightly.

“Easy, Dew,” you breathe. “I’m not going anywhere.”

At this, he ducks his head into the crook of your neck to inhale deep.

“Fucking love your smell,” he groans, rutting slightly against you, “so sweet.”

“Even after Swiss–”

“Especially after that. Fuck I want you. I want to see the others with you,” he licks a stripe from your shoulder to your ear. “Want to watch you try to take Mountain’s cock. Aether’s too. Fuck you have no idea what the ghoulettes are gonna do to you, do you?”

You’re quickly soaking through your panties and you can feel your wetness sliding down the inside of your thigh under your skirt. When he takes your earlobe between his sharp teeth to nibble at it, your moan echoes through the stacks. The thought of all of them having you, maybe even several at a time, makes you arch your back and hook your leg around Dewdrop’s calf.

He chuckles softly right in your ear as his hands slide down your thighs to the hem of your skirt. 

“But for now, I wanna feel that sweet pussy clench around my fingers.”

You nod, in a daze as he puts his hands under your thighs and with his surprising strength, picks you up and places you on the desk. With some maneuvering from you he rucks your skirt up over your hips and trails his fingers along your clothed cunt.

“Fucking hell you’re sopping,” he breathes as you bite your lip and nod once more.

“All for you, Dew,” you moan as he pushes his thumb against the fabric to brush your clit.

“All for me,” he repeats, cocking his head. “Well if you insist.”

In an instant, he’s pushed the gusset of your panties to the side. When his bare, guitar-calloused fingers slowly swipe through your folds your head falls back. He repeats the action several times as you lift your hips to make little circles, encouraging him. When his thumb finds your clit, you grip the edge of the desk with white knuckles. He takes his time spreading your wetness around the bud as you moan into the darkened room. 

“Fuck, Dew,” you whine. “Please.”

He knows exactly what you’re asking for as he slides his fingers lower and teases at your entrance.

“Gonna make you feel so good, babe,” he says hoarsely, clearly affected by your display. “Gonna make you scream.”

When he finally, slowly slips one finger inside of you, your eyes roll back in your head. He begins to fuck you at a steady pace, and your hips jerk to meet each thrust. 

“More,” you pant after several minutes and he laughs at your desperation but adds a second finger nonetheless. He’s pistoning his fingers in and out of you roughly but when he curls them just so–oh. You’re certain anyone passing the library at this time of night can hear your cries but you can’t bring yourself to care. He’s watching you with gleaming eyes, tail shaking steadily back and forth.

“Take my fingers so good,” he breathes, “think you could take one more?”

You almost fall backwards against the bookcase at the thought before whining an affirmative response. When he slips the third finger in and crooks it against that fucking spot you feel hysterical, cries bouncing off the walls of the cavernous room. You’re babbling desperate nonsense at him, urging him not to stop please don’t stop and he obliges, fingers pistoning in and out of you with unbelievable force.

“Gonna cum for me?” he asks, making you whimper.

“Yes, yes, yes, so good Dew, fuck I love your fingers,”

You’re almost there - so close, so close - and when the tightening in your spine slides into your core and makes your vision go blurry you do, as promised, scream.

He’s grinning wildly before he smashes his lips into yours as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. Tongues tangling, you moan desperately into his mouth as you feel the spade of his tail rubbing circles into your lower back. He devours the sounds you make hungrily, nose pressed firmly against your cheek. When you slowly begin to come down from your high he pulls away, panting.

“Beautiful,” he says, palm on the side of your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone. “Fuck you’re beautiful.”

When he finally slips his fingers out of you, you are filled with a sudden emptiness that leaves you wanting. The feeling is remedied as you watch him raise his fingers to his mouth and slide them in lewdly. His eyes slide shut and he moans low as he carefully sucks your juices from the digits. It’s hypnotic, watching him like this. When he opens his eyes again and removes his fingers from his lips you’re filled with a sudden deep swell of affection.

“Always knew those fingers were good for something other than guitar,” you say quietly with a small smirk which he echoes.

“Yeah? You think about my fingers a lot?”

You slide off the desk and attempt to stabilize yourself. He’s got his hands on your hips steadying you and you feel that wonderful warm feeling again. It’s not until you move in to hold him that you realize he’s still hard.

“Do you…”

He waves you off and shakes his head.

“Another time. Wanted to make you feel good tonight. And to apologize for ghosting you the past couple weeks.”

Sweet. “Thanks, Dew. Hopefully I’ll see more of you around now, yeah?”

He nods with a sly grin, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Oh you’ll be seeing us alright,” he says with a slight leer. “Just you wait.”

Don’t worry, you think. I’ll be counting down the days.

[gatorbites-imagines]

yoo whats up i have a request for you, poly ghostface x male reader who has quite the similar personality to stu, but the reader is a metalhead, especially into death metal. he has like hella long hair and a massive cd stash (maybe even a pot stash too..) i dont really mind if it takes place before or during the kills, but billy & stu are like highly intrigued by all of the gorey album covers + shirts and how he's a bit gore obsessed. thanks my dude

Billy Loomis x Stu Macher x male reader

Headcanons

I haven’t written for these two in a while, sorry it took a while for me to answer this request lmao.

-          Now in the beginning the three of you probably weren’t friends, maybe you were Stus friend since you have such similar personalities, and that you are kinda an outsider being a metalhead in a town like Woodsboro.

-          There is definingly a lot who looks down on you for how you dress, how long your hair is, or your interest in the darker things like horror movies, dark cd covers, etc.

-          But as you get closet to Stu by extension you get closer to Billy, and in the beginning, Billy would just put up with being around you, since he and Stu are most likely already dating, and Stu seems to really like you.

-          Then they visit your place and see just how cool your room is, with your huge collection of CDs, band t-shirts, posters and alike. Billy would immediately be interested in your CDs with darker covers, if I remember correctly there’s even covers out there with real bodies on them, so if you had those Billy would find them very cool.

 -          So, you end up close to both of them, and as time passes it develops into more. It would probably be Stu who fell for you first, and at some point, Billy reluctantly admits he’s fallen for you too.

-          You would not pick up on any of their attempts at flirting since your kinda daft at times, but that’s okay, they like that about you. They would start out more subtle with their flirting, at least Billy would, I don’t think Stu has a subtle bone in his body when it comes to people he likes.

-          When you just think they’re extra friendly no matter how much they try to give you hints, cuz it’s the 90s so just telling a guy you like em probably isn’t that easy, even though Billy and Stu are already together, they both wanna bang their heads against the wall.

-          I could imagine it finally clicking one night when the three of you are smoking together, using the stuff you have, so your all kinda high, and I get the feeling Stu is the giddy giggly kind, whilst Billy is more the calm and thinking kinda high.

-          You would be laying with your lap in Stu’s lap as he plays with your hair, the guy talking about how pretty it is and asking what kinda soap you use to get it this soft.

-          Then at some point Stu would just look at you and state that he really wants to kiss you, and since you are also high and have had feelings for the two you jokingly tell him to go for it.

 -          Stu being well, Stu, leans down and kisses you. You kiss him back just as enthusiastically, arms thrown around his neck and pulling him down till Stu is also bent in half cuz your still in his lap.

-          Billy just sits and watches as you go from kissing to full on making out, and before the three of you know it, you’re sitting in Stu’s lap and his hands are up your shirt. At some point Billy scoots his way over, pushes your hair to the side and kisses your neck.

-          Pulling back from the kiss, Stu confesses in a very Stu kinda way, aka he just says, “I love you man, I wanna be your boyfriend” and you just say you love him too, and Billy. Billy just chuckles a little and says he loves you guys too, and the rest is history.

-          The three of you wouldn’t be out to the public about being together, seeing as Billy and Stu weren’t out before, but you get “friendlier” aka you start hanging out with them more between classes, you wrap an arm around each other or lean against one another, those kinda things,

 -          When the killings happen, you are one of the top suspects, because you are an outsider and weirdo to the townspeople. You end up having a good alibi though, having been at work in the record and CD shop in town.

-          It doesn’t stop the rumors though and people look down on you even more than usual, but Billy and Stu stay.

-          I have a feeling you would discover they were the killers, and right when they worry about having to kill you or you freaking out, you just give them a lazy grin and ask to join.

-          They fall in love with you even more and now there are three ghostfaces, I could see you listening to music when killing too, which Billy tells you not to do, but Stu will sit beside you and listen to it too between killings.

-          A night of massacres always ends up with the three back at one of your guys places, cuddling and maybe smoking and maybe more If you are all in the mood.

-          You end up converting them to like your kind of music, so Billy and Stu can regularly be caught borrowing CDs from your collection, or adding more of their own when they find some you don’t already have.

-          You’re a group of murder boyfriends who are all stupidly sweet on each other, and Billy has the braincell for the most part, but he loves you guys anyways.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hey Nalyra,

First of all I love your blog and reading your thoughts so thank you for that!!!

I'm curious to know what you think and tbh i might be reaching lol but I found it too interesting not to bring it up.

Basically, I noticed something in ep7, there is this slight scene where they're around the table with Daniel and Louis throws his bowl full of blood across him after sharing that this is hard and it lands/splashes on the painting but also it was imo purposefully thrown toward Armand (we can see him dodge/have that slight stunned expression right afterward) and like Louis could have thrown the bowl in any other direction but he chose that one so I was wondering if you think this might be a sign that Louis isn't as clueless anymore or maybe it's just a sign of his resentment or again just me reading into this way to much lol?

Hey!

Glad you like! 💕

So I think there were several layers to that scene.

For one, this is Louis, his emotions a roller coaster, and they need out. He literally puts the golden spoon down, to reject the controlled food he was given, and hurl it back at the one who is responsible for this controlled environment.

It is an event to clue us in on Louis reaching the end of his tether and him knowing who is responsible both, at least deep down inside of him.

It is also a hint that Armand is losing his control over him.

And then... there is the layer of where that blood lands.

Because... that is not any painting. That is the "Sea of Galilei", a stolen Rembrandt painting. In the story referenced through the painting Christ calms the storm after his disciples panic, and he admonishes them: “Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?”

Louis literally throws blood at a painting depicting Christ trying to calm his disciples, metaphorically rejecting the calming influence he has been under, by spilling blood on it. Blood has been spilled. Blood will be spilled.

Going by the fact that Louis throws that bowl at Armand... it might be Armand's (too).

And Louis is actively rejecting the "calming influence", something that has been called the "veil" in the book.

Lestat also spoke of the veil that separates them in his letter.

Louis throwing the blood there will ultimately lead to them reuniting again.

Eventually.

[morganski-19]

The One With the Stupid Frat Boy

(flashback to how Steve and Robin became friends)

Robin’s not exactly sure why she showed up to this party. Or how she ended up smack dab in the middle of make out city. A mission that started out trying to get something not disgusting in her cup turning into dodging couples left and right.

She should honestly just go home. Back to her dorm room after finding the roommate that dragged her here. Said she had to get a life and not just study every day. Robin didn’t come to college to fuck around. And so what, she likes to study. Learning a new language was fun for her, she could already speak four fluently, what’s one more.

“You look lost,” a random guy with blond hair says to her. A slur to his words. “If you need help finding somewhere quiet to sit in for a while, I could help you with that.”

Robin swallows the want to throw up. “I’d rather you show me the nearest dumpster than go anywhere alone with you.”

“Woah, freaky.” The guy clearly doesn’t get the hint. He gets so close that Robin can smell the alcohol on his breath. “That’s ok, I’m into freaky chicks.”

“Ew, gross,” Robin pushes him away. “If your brain worked for two seconds, you would clearly see that I’m not interested.”

Whatever type of face the guy was trying to make before turns sour. “You didn’t have to be so rude about it, jeez. I was just trying to be nice.”

“You can be nice without trying to get in my pants. Which I have already said I’m not interested in. You can go fuck off now.” She shoos him away with her free hand.

“Hey, listen here, bitch.”

A hand comes between Robin and the guy, pushing him away from her. Another guy stepping between them, shielding Robin from whatever insults where about to be thrown her way.

“Back off, Chad, she’s clearly not interested,” the new guy with what appears to be a few braincells says. He crosses his arms, making himself into a calm but large presence.

Chad starts to say something, but cuts himself off with an eyeroll. Finally walking away and leaving Robin alone.

The new guy scoffs, whispering, “Asshole.” He turns around to face Robin, face softening in a way that makes her feel safer than she has all night. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” she says more shaken than she would like to admit. “Just another asshole, right.”

“Right.” He holds out his hand in front of him. “I’m Steve.”

Robin shakes his hand with an intrigued expression. “Robin.”

A group of people walk behind her and, accidentally, someone bumps into her. Making her trip forward and spill what was left of her drink down her shirt.

“Fuck,” she says, fruitlessly wiping the stain with the back of her hand. “Tonight really is a load of shit.”

Steve very gently puts a hand on her upper back, leading her gently to an empty bathroom. “Don’t swear it all off yet. You never know, you could meet a really hot girl that could turn it all around.”

The bathroom door shuts behind him with a lock. Steve immediately crouches down to look around in the cabinet under the sink. Giving Robin some relief as the situation finally registers in her brain.

She was locked in a bathroom with some random guy she just met minutes ago. Realistically, she should be freaking out about this. But she’s not. Instead, she laughs when Steve makes a little victorious sound and emerges with an almost empty roll of paper towels and a stain eraser. Handing both of them to her and turning to sit on the toilet.

No pressure, no expectation. Just doing something kind for a stranger.

“Is that hope for finding a hot girl for me or for you,” Robin says. Wetting a paper towel, starting to dab at the stain on her shirt.

Steve snorts. “Mainly for you. I’m sort of seeing someone right now and I’m not a cheating asshole.”

“How’d you know I liked girls.”

“I recognized you from the LGBTQ+ student alliance club. I try to attend meetings when I can, but my practices get in the way for most of them.”

“I thought you looked familiar. That makes so much sense now. If you were straight, I probably would have punched you in the face right now.”

That makes Steve laugh. “I hope you’d give me a better treatment than most. Even when I thought I was straight, I still respected people’s sexualities.”

“Who are you seeing, another member of the club?”

“No, she doesn’t have the time. You might know her if you read the school paper, Nancy Wheeler. She’s too busy trying to whip that into shape along with the million other clubs she’s in to be an official member.”

“And she won’t care that you’re currently locked in a bathroom at a house party with a random girl?”

Steve laughs again, like he’s talking with an old friend. “Like I said, I’m not a cheating asshole and she knows that. And you’re a lesbian, so I’d be doing a terrible job if I was.”

Robin abandons trying to get the alcohol out of her shirt. She leans on the wall, sighing and letting her head hit it. “As nice as this conversation has been, I think I’m going to head home. Try and beat my roommate there so she can’t bring any guys back and kick me out. Even though she will still try.”

Steve makes the most judgmental face known to man. “One of those?”

Robin nods with a snort.

“Could be worse, she could do it even if you were in the room. Not fun, let me tell you.” He stands. “Come on, I’ll walk you home. Don’t need any more frat guys hitting on you.”

Robin follows Steve as he breaks a path through the crowd. Feeling the intense relief when the night air hits her. They walk beside each other to the freshman dorms.

“How did you know Chad anyway? You don’t seem like the guy to hang out with assholes.”

“You’d might be surprised to learn that I am a reformed asshole. Different than the one Chad is, but still an ass. You can thank Nancy for knocking me out of that. But me and him met last year when I was looking to join his frat. We actually hooked up at a party last semester.”

“No way,” she gapes.

Steve nods. “Yes way. Not good, let me tell you. Way too cocky and full of himself.”

“See, this is why I date women. We have a much better track record of reciprocating pleasure.”

“Not all of us are terrible, some of us know how to give a good time.”

Robin comes to a stop in front of the door to her building. “Well, this is it.”

“Here, give me your phone for a second.” Steve holds out his hand, where Robin places her phone. He finds her contacts app and types in his number. “Let me know when you get back into your dorm. I’ll come save you if your roommate brings anyone back.”

“Don’t need you saving me twice in one night, I can handle myself.”

“Oh, I’m sure of it.” He pauses. “But, if you ever wanted someone to talk to, it’s there. Not going to force you or anything, but I had a good time talking to you tonight. I think that we could be really good friends. If you gave me a chance.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “And texting some random guy I met at a party is such a great way to make friends?”

Steve holds up his hands in defense, walking away backwards. “You said it not me.”

He runs into a bush behind him, cursing and making Robin laugh. She waves goodbye and scans her ID to get into the door. Immediately pulling out her phone when she gets to her dorm to text Steve.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low,

@thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady,

@apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic,

@fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging,

@potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @gregre369

@my2amgaythoughts, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @emmabubbles, @eriquin, @grtwdsmwhr

@croatoan-like-its-hot

[egooppidum]

Astarion at tiefling party (early access devnotes)

Never thought I'd be the one they toast for saving so many lives. And now that I'm here...

(Reflecting. Holding a bottle of wine)

I hate it. This is awful.

(Swigs from the wine, but it tastes foul. He pulls a face in reaction to the wine, but 'I hate it. This is awful' is referring to the party generally. He sets the bottle down on a table beside him.)

True. That was fun.

(Wistful, maybe with a giggle) *killing goblins was fun

See what I mean? Awful.

(referring to the wine. The player's just been told that the wine tastes delicious, but to a vampire it still tastes like muck.)

By the Hells. Sex, my dear. A night of passion.

(Can't believe how nieve you are)

Nothing so dramatic. Just you and me and - well, maybe a little death? Figuratively speaking.

('little death' in the sense of 'orgasm')

It's easy for some, of course. You and [CompanionName] seem to be getting on very well.

(Stress 'very'. Slightly sulking/disinterested tone)

Do you think [CompanionName] would approve? I saw how he/she looked at you earlier.

(teasing the player for their interest in another character)

I don't know what his/her idea of a good time is, but it seems to involve you. I'd hate to intrude.

(pretending to be disinterested)

Ha! No, I've seen enough blades in my time.

('blades' - inuendo for dicks)

But you go ahead. Have fun.

(hint of bitterness, but only a hint)

What?

(Player said they might sleep with you if you say 'please'. You're thrown - you've never been in this position before.)

Please.

(Through gritted teeth.)

You insolent little-

(Annoyed, you've just been humiliated. 'You insolent little brat' is the full line.)

You are an insolent little pup, aren't you?

(They just told you they'd rather fuck a goblin. You're kind of amused, kind of angry.)

I'm flattered, but I think not. It's not you, you understand, it's me.

(pretending he's trying to reassure you)

Fine. Enjoy your night with whatever beast will have you.

(Trying to supress anger)

Do you mind? I'm very busy.

(He's not very busy.)

Are you now? Well, lucky him/her.

(Disappointed)

Thank you so much for telling me. Now please do piss off.

(Annoyed) *you told him you'll sleep with someone else