#but then all the buildings are less than 4 floors?!?!?! disgusting

[neonacidtrip]

I am home from apartment hunting and I would just like to say I am extremely disappointed, as an able-bodied person, to learn only 1 out of the 13 complexes we visited had an elevator.

[sevikasbeloved]

POKER FACE

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Content NSFW, scenes of a sexual nature

Word count: 4.5k

Part 4

You stood outside, the muffled sound of thumping music intimidating you from what occurred inside. The building itself wasn’t anything special, in fact during the day it was hard to tell it apart from the rest of the other buildings on the street.

But at night, it came to life from within. From what you knew, it was essentially a glorified members club, but that was the end of your knowledge and anyone else who cared for their own safety. Your eyes scoured the building, windows locked and blacked out, and the only way in was blocked by two muscle heads who looked like they were itching for a fight.

All this should’ve been enough for you to count your losses and go home. But thanks to Sevika, there were no losses to be counted. You shoved your hands in your pockets, closing off your body to the bodyguards out front. They glanced over you, deeming you an unthreatening presence as they spotted a more suitable prey.

“Hey!” One of the men called out, causing you to turn your head towards them, your heart skipping a beat.

They, however, gave their attention to another guy, similar in size to the two of them, who seemed to be more than happy to engage them.

You took your chance without a blink of an eye, slinking into a tight fitting alleyway, barely big enough for yourself. The music buzzed in the walls, its vibrations sending slight shocks through your body.

With your face pressed up against the cold brick, you could hardly find room to think. Then a light, just a couple steps ahead, ignited the dim path. Its light burst through a small window, igniting within you, your own flame.

You shimmed across until you were right beneath it. You reached your hand up, pushing against the glass pane until it gave way swinging open into the room. You withheld, for a moment, listening keenly for any sound or movement from within.

“Let’s fucking go boys!” You heard from the street.

The rumbling of a fight raring to go had never sounded so sweet. You took your chance with the distraction erupting in the front, hoisting both of your arms onto the ledge as you pull yourself up and into the room, landing less than gracefully on chequered tile flooring that seemed to hurt more than normal tiled floors.

You turned over onto your knees rubbing your sore ass, feeling an extra tender spot, just near your tailbone, cursing silently the bruise that would be there tomorrow. You staggered to your feet grabbing hold of the porcelain sink for balance.

Once you had gathered your bearings, the reality of what you were doing settled in. Tracking Sevika down, and giving her a piece of your mind - fair enough. Breaking into the most elusive club in the undercity - not so fair enough.

But you had done it, you’d made your bed and now it was time to lie in it-

“Um, you’re not supposed to be here.” A woman’s voice from behind you spoke.

You jerked up, turning to face said voice. A waiter, dressed in a fine cut, maroon suit looked at you with near enough disgust.

You cleared your throat, unable to help the feeling that you'd been caught with your pants down.

“What if I’m not?” you asked, the bile brewing in your stomach giving you a new variety of liquid courage, “between you and me,” you stepped closer to her with a slow and effortless sway, noting the slight twitch in her eyebrow and the knot forming in her throat, “I don’t think you’re gonna do anything about it.”

She didn’t respond, but stood her ground.

You let out a forced ‘ha’,

“How much for the suit?” You ask,

She laughs, genuinely, before her smile drops again as she realised your seriousness.

“Five hundred.”

You let out a sharp whistle, “try again.”

“Do you know who’s behind those doors?” She said, her words masking a thinly veiled warning.

“No, but I know who’s in this room, here, with you,

and I know she will do a whole lot worse to you if you don’t, try again.” You said slowly and in a low voice.

“300” she counters, her voice meeker.

“150, since you wanted to be cocky.”

She nodded.

____

You leave the bathroom with newfound confidence in your walk, draped and tucked into her sleek suit. You opted against her dress shirt underneath, leaving very little to imagination.

You walked into the room as if you owned the place, casting polished smiles at certain tables and siren eyes to others. You felt your blood warm at the sight of the tables stacked to the heavens with money waiting to be snatched up.

But that wasn’t your circus or your monkey. No, you were fixed on Sevika. Public humiliation, degradation, nothing was off the table, you were all in. And whether what was on her agenda today as your self appointed master was not your responsibility.

You scoured the room, looking through multi coloured beads that hung from the baroque-esque ceilings and thicker privacy drapes that hid the more elusive members away from the public eye, but she was nowhere to be found.

Just as you began to feel your own skin rise in heat, and realised the countless eyes falling on you in the room, you heard an oh-so familiar bellowing laughter.

It sounded so comfortable, so sure in its right, and that’s how you knew it could only be her.

You weaved through the busy room, heading straight for the sound, until you came to a standstill, noticing the only thing between you and that sound wasn’t a curtain or some kitsch beads, but a solid oak door.

For the first time tonight you hesitated, fuck knew who or what could’ve been behind the door, and you had just broken into this establishment. to walk into a closed room was a ballsy move, but then again, so is taking away your right to poker with the regular folk.

You pushed the door open without giving yourself a moment to rethink or backtrack. The door swung open dramatically, revealing a casino owner's dream.

An exclusive room, filled with rich splashes of colour and gold absolutely everywhere it could find space. The tackiest design you’d seen in a while but somehow it all coincided with the rest of the club.

All heads in the room turned to gave you and my oh my you saw some famous faces. Salo and Shoola, esteemed council members trading cards with Margo and Renni, lowlife chembarons.

And if your jaw hadn’t already dropped at the sight, you saw at the head of the table, Sevika. Her face stunning you most of all as an orange light shone perfectly on her cut features.

How you hated how gorgeous she was.

Her eyes burned into you, raking over you velvet wrapped figure. A glint of white shone through her lips as she barely pulled a smile, before it dropped again.

She stood up, the room so silent you could hear the sound of a punch connecting with a jaw from outside. She held the silence as she walked slowly over to you, circling the table as she started towards you, eyeing you up like prey.

As the two of you came to a head, you couldn’t take your eyes off of her. A show of submission manifested in your shrunken posture.

She bit her bottom lip, her nose twitching slightly before she shook the look of lust off of her face.

“Everyone out.” She announced, clearly no room for compromise in her tone.

The room cleared as quickly as it quietened, leaving the two of you alone, deja vu setting in, reminding you of the last time you two were alone together.

The click of the door shutting broke the stillness between the two of you as she pulled you in by the waist, her hands gripping at your suit. Her other hand started at your chin, its talons grazing gently against your skin, slipping through the flat space between your breasts.

Your breath hitched, all thoughts to give her a piece of your mind halted.

“Is this what you came for?” She spoke in hushed tones, yet the grumble of her voice still ran through you, “to seduce me? Give me a taste of my own medicine? A piece of your mind?”

She read you like a fucking book, and you thought you could read a poker face.

She leaned down, your bodies pressing against each other, her hand laying flat just above your naval.

“Since you’re here, let’s have some fun.” She whispered, letting you free of her grip.

You stepped back, dazed by her voice and strong musk. Your eyes only went as high as her lips, unable to look her in the eye, the feeling she could see what you were thinking unsettling you.

“A game.” She said, filling the silence for you.

She walked back to her seat at the head of the table, her legs spread obnoxiously wide as she picked up a deck from the centre of the table, shuffling them lazily in her hands.

You rounded the table, taking a seat beside her at the top. Not a word could be formed from your mouth that wouldn’t embarrass you, so you opted for silence, something she picked up on immediately.

“You’re not so cocky, something happen?”

“More like someone.” You mumbled in response, pulling out a cigarette from your pocket and lighting it, making it clear you weren’t looking to start a conversation about it.

She simply chuckled, dicing the cards between the two of you.

“You know how to play go fish?” She asked, her hands hovering over the cards.

You nodded, picking up the cards laid in front of you.

She placed another three for you, totalling your card count to a healthy six, matching her set.

You both stared at each other, longing out the start of the game, seemingly trying to simultaneously psych each other out.

“Y/N.” She said, the sound of your name in her mouth irritating you more than you thought it would, and suddenly you remembered how she had gone out of her way to claim her stake on you, barring you from doing what you love - gambling and winning.

“Sevika.” You responded, with more vigour than intended.

“Do you have any nines?”

Now it was time to take back what was rightfully yours, to do what you did best.

“Go fucking fish.” You spat.

She only chuckled in response, boiling your blood. It seemed you couldn’t get to her, her temperament was a lot higher than yours, but it wasn’t something you couldn’t overcome.

She picked up a card from her deck, leaning back in her chair.

“Do you have any fours?”

She pulled two cards from her hand, sliding them over to you, that cocky grin quickly wiped from her face, and suddenly the real game, the one of patience, had begun.

“Do you have any kings?” Her voice monotone, like you were just another player she was looking to confiscate money from.

“Go fish.”

Her right leg started to bounce as she picked up another card from the deck.

“Give me your…” you slowed your words, letting her sit in anticipation. You felt yourself coming back, your long acquired skills leaping right into action just when you most needed, “Queens.”

Three cards left her hand, including the one she just picked up. She chucked them across to you, not even bothering to look at where they fell.

You simply shifted them in front of you, placing your fourth card down, making your first set.

Silence entered the room again as she sat forward, looking at her cards and back at you like clockwork.

“Sevens.”

You sucked in a satirical breath, not bothering to burden her with those fateful words as she picked another card from the deck.

“And your three’s, my love.”

“Bullshit.” She called, slamming a fist on the table before throwing an extra card your way.

“Don’t hate the player.” You joked, finding amusement in her riled up look.

“Fuck you.” She hissed.

“You almost did.”

She looked up at you with narrowed eyes, like she saw right through your coming here to chastise her. She reached over to your hand that layer on the table, cigarette burning idly.

Without you being able to get a good grip on it, she pinched it from between your fingers, taking a long drag on it before stubbing it onto the deck.

“Your fours.” She said, ignoring your words, brushing them off like water off a duck's back. You hated to say you found it impressive how she could just close off any attempt at reading her in an instant, it was something rarely found in gamblers, something only you knew you could do, that is before you met her.

You handed over two cards, consolation cards at best, watching a slight twitch in her face as she added them to her deck.

“And I guess I’ll take your jacks then?” You posed as a question, even though you knew you were getting them.

And so you were, she handed you three cards, leaving her with only two, and with an almost empty deck, you knew she’d have to fold otherwise she’d just be a dead man walking and that was so much worse than losing.

She looked at her deck, both of you knew she had fours, both of you knew you had none, and both of you knew this was the end of the line.

She was left with two choices. Either she’d keep playing hoping to pick up the first four before you did, or she’d tap out now, if she knew what was good for her she’d go with the latter but chances were.

“Do you have any fours?” She asked again, confirming her choice.

“So ridiculous.” You mumbled as she reached to pick up a card.

Suddenly she stopped in her tracks. Almost frozen at your words.

“Ridiculous?” She scoffed, “no, what’s ridiculous is you coming in here, into my room, looking for some sort of fucking retribution, then sitting my table, and playing a fucking game with me.”

“My, my, my” you mocked her, throwing your hand down, “Jesus, Sevika, all you do is talk about you and think about you. You fucking claimed me as your puppet or some shit and I’m ridiculous?!” Your voice had reached a new level of loud, and you were sure the oak door didn’t soundproof a thing.

“Gods, is that why you came here?” She leaned back in her chair, throwing her cards down too as she pinched the space between her eyes,

“Yes it is, actually, who do you think you are, Sevika?” You stood up from your chair in a hotheaded bout.

She looked up at you, the sight drastically different from any other time you’ve stood before her. Usually she towered over you, took up your space, but this time, it was different, you had that physical high ground.

Yet all you wanted to do was-

You pushed her chair backwards, giving space between her and the table. You stepped in between her legs. She kept her eyes on you, not stopping you but still hesitant to what you were thinking to do.

Sevika's hesitation was palpable, her eyes darting between yours as if assessing the situation. You could see the internal struggle within her, torn between her usual dominant demeanour and the unexpected defiance you were displaying.

As you stood between her legs, the distance between you had evaporated, and the room seemed to close in around you. The tension was unbearable, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. It was a dangerous game you were playing, one that could have unpredictable consequences.

Finally, Sevika's lips curled into a sly smile, a hint of amusement in her eyes.

"Look who got their balls back." she remarked in a low, husky voice.

Her hand reached out, brushing against your cheek as she continued to lock eyes with you.

You held your ground, refusing to back down, refusing to let her control the situation entirely. It was a battle of wills, a dance of desire and defiance that neither of you was willing to break.

With a devilish glint in her eye, Sevika leaned in closer, standing up to meet you, her lips brushing against yours in a teasing manner.

"Let's see how far you're willing to go, huh?" she whispered, leaving the promise of what lay ahead hanging in the air.

Her presence was intoxicating, her breath warming your skin as she continued to toy with you, her eyes never leaving yours.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. This was a game you had willingly entered, and you weren't about to back down now. You leaned in just a fraction closer, closing the remaining distance between your lips and hers. It was a bold move, a daring response to her teasing.

Her lips met yours in a fiery, passionate kiss, your hands intertwining into her locs, the room exploded with electricity. It was a battle of wills and passion, each of you vying for control. The kiss was intense, a collision of desire, and it left you both breathless and craving more.

You pulled away, hands still glued to her scalp, heavy breaths shared between the small space between you.

Sevika’s eyes bore into you, dilated in a way you’d never seen eyes do before,

“Now we’re playing my kind of game.” She purred, her lips glistening with your spit, a sight you’d never tire of or at least never forget.

Sevika's lips found their way to yours once more, each kiss more intense and intoxicating than the last. The world outside this room ceased to exist as you both surrendered to the magnetic pull of desire.

Her fingers traced the contours of your skin with an expert touch, igniting a fiery passion within you that burned hotter with each passing moment.

As your bodies moved in unison, the room echoed with the sounds of whispered moans and gasps of pleasure.

You pulled her body flush against yours, whispering a mix of gibberish and lustrous cravings into her skin.

She took a step towards you, closing you in between the table and her body. Her fingers played with the one button holding your from indecency causing your breath to hitch at the sensation of warm skin grazing against your navel.

You grabbed her hand, stopping her in her tracks, causing her to pull away from the kiss, her forehead pressed to yours with her eyes still hanging low in dripping desire.

“It’s my turn this time.” You whispered, pushing her back into her seat, with seemingly no push back from her.

She fell back in her seat, legs spread wide as she took the chair as her throne. She glared at you from under her eyelids, her chest rising and falling slowly.

You slowly got on your knees, fiddling with her belt buckle. She bucked her hips forward giving you a better angle, tucking her bottom lip into her mouth as she silently waited.

“Never seen you this quiet, Sevika.” You hummed as you pulled her trousers down over her knees, letting the fabric pool at her legs.

“Just fucking-“ she choked back her final words, letting her head fall back as your thumb grazed against her clothed member.

Your heartbeat pumped faster as you watched her reel from just your touch. You moved your hands along her thighs, tugging on the waistband of her boxers, looking lustfully at the point where her v-line disappeared beneath the white cloth.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” You mumbled.

“Hm?” She hummed, looking at you with a smug smirk on her face, acting coy despite clearly hearing what you said.

You rolled your eyes, hiding a smile as you leaned forward kissing the happy trail on her taut skin, teething the waistband before pulling it down with the assist of your free hands.

Your breaths became deeper as you beheld her nakedness, something you’d thought about many times but seeing it in person, it ignited a fire you never knew you had.

You dove straight in, licking a slick strip in between her folds, watching her as her head fell back again and a groan omitted from between her lips.

You began with her clit, licking and sucking as she reacted promptly with a moan or a groan, her head writhing as if it was trying to detach itself from her body.

“Ah fuck, y/n” she husked, the rich tone of her voice only egging you on further.

Her hands gripped the sides of the chair, nails scratching into the wood, her hips grinding to the rhythm of your lapping.

You knew she was close, which meant you knew your own personal game was about to begin. As her moans became louder and mumbles more incoherent, you pulled away, a line of slick connecting you to her.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” She snapped through bated breaths.

Your thumb ghosted her clit, her abdomen tensing at the loss of sensation.

“Remember that night you left me there, after playing your little game with me?” You graze her clit ever so slightly.

“Fu-“ is all she can manage as she glared at you through glazed over eyes.

“You know I found out about your little claim on me.” You rub against her clit again, this time slower, drawing out another moan from her.

“Thought I’d return the favour.”

Her head fell back as you began quickly rubbing circles on her clit, you watched her like a hawk as she climbed back to her edge again.

“Mm, don’t stop.” She whispered, all the words you said going in one ear and out the other.

“Don’t stop?” You asked again, slowing your passes over her pearl.

“Fuck, fuck please.” She almost whimpered.

Your movements stopped, partly out of shock, you let out a faint ‘ha’ as you did.

She lurched forwards, her hand gripping the back of your head, as her forehead collided with yours, making your breath hitch at her sudden regaining of dominance.

“Fuck you, brat.” She huffed.

“I’m not stopping you.”

You were as wet as her, if not wetter. Her eyes shot open, like your words blazed within her.

In an instant, she picked you up, laying you on the table like a rag doll. You propped yourself upon your elbows, chest rising and falling with each deep breath you took.

She pulled your pants off with haste, clipping your shoes off as she went. She climbed on top of you, her knee dangerously close to your member. Her mechanical arm held her up as her free jeans easily unbuttoned your blazer.

“Take it off.” She said in a low and demanding tone.

Her eyes were displayed leaving no colour left to see, they were filled with a hungry desire you’d never seen before, and you were happy to oblige to her.

You scrambled to take off your blazer, leaving it crumpled beside you. A small sliver of her teeth shined under the golden light of the room, plateaued with your quickness of submission.

She stood up again, looking down at you with lust. You laid there in nothing but your panties, which she did the service of taking off immediately, leaving you buff in the nude.

Her nostrils flared as she looked at you laid out for her willing. She took her own too off, her muscles flexing and contracting as she did, leaving her in only her white undershirt, which was rolled messily underneath her breasts, her abs defined beyond reality.

She climbed the table again, like a predator finalising its prey. She wastes no time letting her legs come in between yours spearing them out to their limit.

You whimpered, but never let your eyes leave hers. There was a mutual understanding that you were finally even, and now it was time for you both to take your winnings.

She mounted you, L locking her body against yours. All her muscles flexed as she thrust her member into yours, your moan loud and proud as your head knocked hard against the solid table.

You whined at the mix of pleasure and pain as she continued to thrust into you with full brute force.

“You wanna play your own little games with me, huh?” She huffed as she grabbed your leg, holding it against her torso as she angled herself closer to your clit, her bottom lip ravished by her teeth as she thrust again. Keeping a possessive and aggressive rhythm she pushed the two of you simultaneously to the edge.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your only sense being your hearing as you honed in on the heavy grunting above you became shakier and shakier.

“Sev, oh my-“

Her grip on your leg tightened as she stilled above you, sending ripples through your body as your vision went white-out and your breath caught in your throat.

Suddenly both of your bodies jerked into each other, each movement welcoming a sharp shot of pleasure between your conjoined bodies.

What felt like an eternity if an orgasm finally subsided as you came to, the sight of Sevika’s spent body hunched over yours sending butterflies through your stomach.

The room was silent, leaving only heavy breaths to circulate the room’s atmosphere.

She leaned against your naked body, pressing a kiss in between your breasts, then your neck, then jaw, then she met your face, her eyelids low and sultry, she flashed a weak and barley present smile before crashing sloppily into your lips.

You lifted your body to meet her kiss, returning it with unbridled passion. You pulled away, brushing her hair back behind her ears.

You had really meant what you said earlier, she was gorgeous despite her faults.

As if she knew what you were thinking she pulled away from your grasp quickly, leaving you on the table as she hopped off again, pulling her boxers over herself.

She sat back in her chair, pulling a cigarillo from the pouch that laid on the floor, lighting it as she watched you from behind the flame as you propped yourself up on your elbows.

Her face was stoic as she smoked it, not a word between the two of you as you stared. You suddenly noticed the ever so slight shake in her fingers as she put it to her lips, then you noticed her lip twitch, twice. You leaned your head to the side, all of a sudden being able to see all her tells.

You stood up and walked towards her, plucking the cigarillo from her fingers, taking a puff for yourself before placing it back between her lips.

You watched slowly as her eyes glistened as she looked up at you.

“You know,” you exhaled, “your poker face isn’t so good after all.”

She chuckled, and as you turned to grab your disbarred clothes, she gave you a tight slap on your ass.

Making you smile, but you didn’t dare give that away.

[aufucker]

Unprofessional Behavior

BJ/Jack

Boss makes a dollar I make a dime that's why I get fucked on company time or something

CW: mentions of death/decomp, very mildly dub-con if we squint but I'm putting that peanut allergy on here anyway, lot of SWEAT

You weren't sure if it was correlation or causation, but you swore decomps in the summer were way more frequent. Or perhaps they were just more memorable in their utter misery. The stench burning through your mask, the buzzing of flies errupting in your in ears, or just the sheer amount of sweat pooling in your thin, fabric suits.

The work was quick, you thanked creator for the polished concrete floors and sealed white bricks that made up the essential oven that held the melted, blackened pool of what was once a man. Everything was scrubbed and sanitized, and all was left was to let the ozone machine do its job until tomorrow morning.

You winced and groaned in disgust from the puddles of sweat that poured down your cheeks that had been pooled by thy seal of your fogged up mask, sighing soon after from the cooling relief of the fresh air that was only slightly less humid than the tropical climate that resided on your face from the past 4 hours.

Despite the heated pounding in your head, your ears still perked up at the sound of a car door slamming outside of the building, curious about who would be dropping by at this point.

Rolling some of your equipment back anyway, the dark police car certainly stood out next to the clean and vibrant colors on your company's van. Your eyes narrowed at your coworker, Montgomery, speaking to whoever was in the driver's seat and your pace quickened, ready to interject before something stupid was said.

"Hey, Monty. What's going on?" you asked firmly, your tone certainly catching his attention in a way that made him jolt. Like a kid getting caught.

"Jesus-- it's just Barrett, BJ! Christ." he practically gasped. Only God knows what the fuck he was talking to him about.

But, also, why was he *here?* You didn't call him in, you had nothing that was late on being signed off. Before you could ask, you saw the silver haired cop slide out from the cab, leaning comfortably against the roof of the car. Not a single drop of sweat on that brow, not a single tint of red on his skin. Lucky fucker, absolutely basking in that AC.

Your eyes darted to the manilla folder in his hand, watching him use it gently like a fan. Your writing, a homicide taken care of quite recently. Did... did he actually sign off on it in a timely manner?

"Hey, B. Need to talk to you a bit. Got some time in private?"

"If you don't mind it being outside around the back. Already got ozone running, so in the building's a no." Part of you wanted to ask about just talking in his obviously air conditioned car, but you didn't want to end up owing some arbitrary favor later.

"Monty, you got packing up the rest of the equipment?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." He waved, taking no time to peel the sweat dampened PPE from his body.

God, you couldn't wait to get yours off either. But for now, you lead the cop to around the back of the building, taking comfort in the slightly cooled shade you knew was back there.

"Got some questions or something? That's the file for the South 5th Street place, yeah?"

"No questions. Just handing it back to you."

You cocked a scarred brow.

"Like... like signed off?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Couldn't just fax it over?" You were getting a feeling in your gut that you were sure wasn't heat exhaustion just yet. And by how suddenly the space between the two of you was closed, you were catching on quick.

Reflex made you back away, pressing you flat against the warm brick. Nowhere else to go. Trapped between stone and wolfish eyes and toothy grins wrapped in midnight blues.

A cold shiver from the sound of your suit's zipper lowering was almost a relief from the wet heat.

"Seriously, Dean? Can't wait 'till I get off first?" You were being a hypocrite. You both knew you were.

He didn't answer with words. You hated that the most. Knowing what he was thinking by just watching him move, by watching his mossy eyes shift and scan and dart around your body.

The fresher air hitting your damp shirt was a relief, if only for a few seconds. You could feel the beads of sweat running down your neck, past the collar of your shirt. You could feel his stare following it.

"Look, how about you give me a ride to my place so I can shower, then we --" Your words were cut off with a squeak. A fucking squeak that slipped through your throat as you felt his calloused hand haphazardly pull the hem of your shirt and the firm sport bra that clung to your skin over your chest.

The air felt better against your bare flesh, but you knew he wasn't here to care about how you felt.

Another attempt to speak, to condemn, was cut by another involuntary noise. Cut by damp flesh being kneaded in firm hands, being scratched, being pinched and pulled. You were fading fast. The protective suit was so fucking uncomfortable and tight.

The palm of his hand covered your mouth when his own latched onto your nipple, smothering the high pitched, pathetic noise that almost escaped.

Pig, perverted old fuck, impatient mother fucker always thinking with his cock before anything else--

You froze at the sound of another zipper bring lowered, realizing his hand had reached within the thin, white fabric of your suit, dipping into the fly of your sweat drenched jeans.

"Dean--" you whined. A pointless attempt at a warning tone.

"Shhh. Don't want your work pal hearing, do you? Besides, I know you toss these suits out anyway."

Embarrassment brought a new heat against your already flushed face. Your stomach twisting in knots as your eye kept darting to the corner of the building, expecting God and everybody to come around at any instant. But the sting of his teeth on your nipple, his fingers brushing and squeezing and pumping between your thighs at a increasingly brutal pace, and the unforgiving humidity made your brain foggy. Hell, you were positive it was melting out of your damn ears.

You didn't know when you came, your head so hazy from everything all at once. Hand covering your mouth, salty fingers pressed against your tongue, and heated coos of nicotine stained praise brushed against your ears as you sank against the wall.

You heard him say something again, answering with a breathless, "Huh?"

"I said do you wanna get drinks when you get off? You know, of work."

"... Christ alive, Dean, at least let me go home and shower first."

[spectresbase]

Spectre's Advent Calendar Days 4 & 5

Continuing the trend of missing a day and uploading multiple days at once to make up for it. Much like I do with IRL Advent Calendars. Today's featured characters belong to @lastman505 and @safficeArt

Nothing supercharged emotions like being shot at and missed, and Denara’d been shot at a lot in the last few minutes. They’d barely gotten into hyperspace before she was in the hold of the U-Wing, throwing herself at Prelan. The next few moments were a whirlwind of kisses and touches, interspersed with frantic scrabbling at clothing until they were back together again, the touch of skin on skin only fueling the fires.

His hands hooked under her ass and the burly commando lifted Denara completely off the deck. Squealing with delight, she wrapped her legs around him, leaning into the kiss while he settled his grip. The kiss broke when he let her fall squarely onto his cock, the sudden penetration driving a breathy moan from her. “Yes!”

He gave her a couple of strokes to get used to his size, but he’d been missed by as many shots as she had. Her first moan had barely finished echoing around the cramped cargo hold before another replaced it. Then another. And another. Soon the hold was full of her breathy voice. “Harder! Yes! I love your cock, Commander! Fuck me just the way I like it!” The only pause in her rolling commentary came when for a moment he put her down. Any worries he was done with her were dispelled when he picked her up again, this time from behind, holding her up, legs splayed so they could both watch her tits bounce in the reflection off some of the supply boxes they’d been shot at recovering. It was in that position that he unloaded his first load in her. It wasn’t the last. Giving them both a moment to admire the way his cum dripped out of her, he lifted her again and dropped her right back onto his cock, squirting cum to the floor and earning a fresh moan. It was a long flight back to base, and they used every minute of it.

*****

“That’s right, get real deep in there. Prove you want me to tell you where the drive is.” Bent over, Puxx shivered in delight, both at the tongue working its way into her ass, and the power she held over such a normally untouchable bitch. Two days ago the woman with her tongue up Puxx’s ass would’ve sold her out for a pat on the head from the shadow corporation she belonged to. Now she was spit polishing Puxx’s pucker like the good like brown nosing scum she really was. And all because Puxx had stumbled on some intel that would make her bosses look bad. Now the slut was willing to do anything to get it back. “Fuck! You’re good at this. Bet you’re a blast at all the holiday parties. How many asses did you eat to get to this fancy office? Would you say it was more than the number of cocks you sucked, or less? I bet it was more. You seem like the type.” The exec bristled, fingers on her ass tightening, but the tongue didn’t stop. If she still had a mouth, Puxx would’ve grinned. 

“I bet you're really a closet freak. A bitch to the people under you. All uptight and no fun, but the second somebody above you gets you in their office you’re down on all fours, nose in their crack and tongue up their ass. Bet you get off on it too. Right? Tell me I’m right.” The only reply she got was a snarl, but it was half hearted. Unlike the tongue in her ass. There was nothing half hearted about the way it worked, and Puxx abandoned her taunts to focus on not losing her balance as her control finally snapped and the wave of pleasure that’d been building broke over her. Her knees went weak and it was her turn to clutch at something, fingers digging into her own thighs as she rode it out. As the wave subsided, she turned to face the kneeling woman. “There.” The exec snapped waspishly. “I did what you asked. Now give me the disk!” Her face was scrunched up in such a haughty expression Puxx almost believed the disgust she was trying to project. Almost. The eyes told a different story. They were hungry eyes. “I could… Reaching into the woman’s desk drawer, Puxx found exactly what she expected to be there. She pulled it out. “Or I could put you up this desk and fuck you stupid with this.” She brandished the strap on. “Your call...”

[sevikasupremacy]

New Arrival - Chapter 4

LOYALTY - Sevika X Reader Series

Word: 1.2k

Warnings: Sexual Tension, angst, A little bit of Sub Sevika :)

Previous Chapter

Chapter 5 is here!

Summary: Sevika confronts you about the new caretaker that you secretly hired for her.

Today was a lucky day for Silco’s underlings. After months of never-ending errands to run, they finally got a day off.  Soft music was played from the jukebox, echoing through the room. 

On the other hand, Sevika was content about the whole situation. From all the dirty work Silco gave them, she deserves the most rest.The good thing was that she was getting used to her mechanical arm, which means she didn’t have to see you every day. But it was unusual not seeing you around for perhaps months already. It was like you had disappeared into thin air. 

The older woman placed her cigar onto the ashtray as she held up the playing cards in her hand, pondering the next card to put down. That’s when she froze as she heard the creak of the door and a familiar sound of footsteps approaching her. She lifted her head habitually as soon as a figure started heading in her direction. But as soon as she saw her face, she frowned. 

The whole tavern was silent as they eyed the new guest who just entered. 

“You’re Sevika… right?” The stranger’s voice was gruff, less appealing to yours.

Sevika’s eyes traveled up and down the woman’s small figure. She studied her face concerningly. Despite the woman’s voice, she was quite taller than you. She looked older than you. But that wasn’t the problem for Sevika. The problem was…

It wasn’t you.

“Who are you?” Sevika straightened her back against the sofa, crossing her arms.

“I’m your new caretaker,” the woman fluttered her eyelashes flirtatiously, “You can call me Dinah, darling.” 

Sevika's eyes widened, still frozen in place. She glanced up at the others, seeing that they were also looking at the stranger with disgusted looks on their faces. 

“I don’t need to be taken care of.” Sevika reached for her cigar before placing them in between her lips once again. She grabbed her lighter, lighting her cigar as she eyed the woman who was flirting with her.

“I’m only doing this because your boss told me to, sweetheart.” Dinah scooted closer to the older woman. The suffocating scent of perfume roamed around the two of them, making Sevika grimace.

“New caretaker? What about Y/N? Did something happen to her?” 

Questions were dancing around in Sevika’s head as her eyes fixated on the wooden floor. 

“Do you act like this toward everyone?”

“Like what?” Sevika furrowed her eyebrows in annoyance, staring down at the desperate woman. 

“All cold and intimidating. You’re going to scare all the women away.” She said in a seductive tone as she leaned her face closer to Sevika. 

“My old caretaker wasn’t scared of me, though.” Sevika bluntly answered, smirking at the woman who was now frowning, her eyes filled with jealousy. 

“Well, I never said I was scared of you.” Dinah let out a fake chuckle, trying her best to seduce the older woman. Sevika, however, was in her own world. Her eyes wandered around the crowded tavern as she held her mechanical arm protectively, away from Dinah’s sight.

“I don’t need any help.” Sevika stood up as she readjusted her cape, leaving the woman dumbfounded on the sofa. 

“I haven’t even done anything yet–”

“Tell Silco that your work here is done.” The air whistled as Sevika walked past the open door. 

➵

The older woman grunted in aggravation as she walked through the dark alley, ignoring all the drunkards along the way. 

She had to find the answers herself. 

Where were you? Why didn’t Silco tell her anything?

“Focus, Sevika.” 

She knew where your apartment was, but never had the chance to go there. 

➵

The fog strongly roamed around the abandoned-looking building. Sevika peered up, staring at the windows before noticing a familiar woman, staring right at her. Sevika let out a low growl before heading to the stairs.

Mixed feelings of anger and confusion filled her head as she stomped her way up to your room. 

“Explain. NOW.” Sevika slammed open the door, causing the frames on the wall to vibrate. With a calm expression on your face, you turned your chair around to face her. You raised an eyebrow before setting your paperwork down onto your desk. 

“Do you not know how to knock?” You sighed before shifting your focus back to the paperwork. 

“I said EXPLAIN,” Sevika snatched the paperwork from your hand, accidentally crumpling it, “I know it’s your idea.” 

You smiled smugly, taunting the older woman. Sevika shifted her eyes to the moving clock on the wall, avoiding eye contact with you. 

“What? You didn’t enjoy your time with that gorgeous young lady?” You finally stood up, slowly leaning closer to her, using your hands as support. 

“She’s an excellent mechanic too. Wasn’t that what you wanted?” You tilted your head, your eyes trained on the frustrated woman. Silence filled the room as you patiently waited for an answer. 

“Do you want me to find another one?” 

“I DON’T WANT another one.” Sevika slammed her fist onto your desk as her attention now shifts to the remaining paperwork on your desk. You let out a chuckle before hooking your finger onto her black leather choker, pulling her in.

You didn’t know what had gotten into you. Maybe the alcohol that you drank earlier made you more… confident? But whatever it was, the effect was working on you. You tend to be a self-aware woman, always careful to keep a good image of being a doctor. But now you were all over the place.

With swiftness, Sevika clutched your wrist, staring right back at you. She squeezed your wrist ferociously, but you were able to hold in your whimper.

 “Then what do you want..?” You pulled her closer as your voice turned into a whisper. You tugged on Sevika’s choker, making her hiss at you. 

“What do you want?” You repeated as you playfully tugged on her choker once again. As you pulled her heavy body closer to you, the faint scent of tobacco brushed your face. Sevika bit her lip as she intensely stared at you, not showing a sign of letting you go.

“I don’t need another bitch to take care of me.” She let go of your wrist before going for your collar, dragging you up. You gasped, your knees now resting on your desk as you struggled to balance yourself. 

“You’re hard to please. Do you know that?” You traced your fingernails along Sevika’s choker before wrapping your hand around her throat, gently squeezing.

The both of you had no clue what was going on, but somehow, you both didn’t want to stop. The air felt hotter and thicker as the both of you fought for dominance, hands on each other’s throat.

“I’ll tell Dinah to quit then. If that satisfies you enough.” You traced your hand down to the buttons on Sevika’s top before clutching onto her wrist that was still holding onto your collar. 

“Good.” Sevika’s tone was now calmer as she pushed you backward, forcing you to sit back in your chair. She pulled onto her top, readjusting it before heading to the door. 

“I better not see another bitch at the Last Drop again. Do your fucking job.” 

You scoffed in astonishment. 

“I’ll be there next week.” 

Author’s Note: More sub Sevika moments? 😳

Taglist: @honeyr4ven @illicittete @meetmeinthervng @holysmokesblog @uwuttaja

[sugar-petals]

♡ physical affection; levi

↳ NOTE. characterizing boyfriend levi, my passion project lmao! with some sexy moments included 👀

WORDS. ⇢ 7k

tags / warnings. ⚠️ smut, fluff, soft sub!levi x female reader, hurt/comfort hc, angst, shower sex, blowjobs + handjobs + boobjobs (yep. spoiling the captain), face-sitting, protected sex, soap kink, season 3-4 setting, no manga spoilers

Ready for a surprise? It’s not really about what kind of skinship he’s extremely selective about and what not. This is only something people would perceive about him at first glance. Instead, it comes down to how emotionally sheltered he feels. Because of his experiences, that predicates everything else. Which is why Levi’s sexuality is as complex as it is.

But also, in its sudden perfect expression once a person gives him a different perspective: That’s the time when he is touchier. The more in private, the better. The lights down low, with only a candle or two shining from another room. Broad daylight brings the harsh truths and the shaking ground. Nighttime is when Levi feels more intimate and open to caress, down his back and arms, the shoulders, the side of his neck. Done with extreme gentleness, and all of your deep respect.

If you offer him an environment of trust, Levi is open to almost anything and would even magically doze off in your arms for a little while. Breathing softly, resting for the first time in weeks, the brows becoming less tense the deeper he sleeps. You asking if you can stroke his hair (carefully, not messing it up or anything) is something he can’t say no to. The closet romantic in him will fulfill you any reasonable wish as soon as you’d ask anyway.

We know how receptive the captain is to a request, and how much there can be a soft spot for somebody in his heart. If you’re forward enough to just ask, Levi sets himself that goal and opens up. He is diligent with it just as you’d expect. That especially includes the things he says are „absolute horseshit nonsense“ and „disgusting, useless activities“ when reacting to newly formed couples kissing in the survey corps at the other end of the room. Is he a hypocrite and a hater? Actually— not at all.

Levi is a raised rather than born skeptic. Between courage and care, he is always gonna be torn. Both didn’t work in his favor at some point. But at the end of the day, he fears recklessness more than being cautious. Looking at these couples, he knows that they could lose each other the very next day. Or hell, the next hour. Not everybody has 200 titan kills. 

Not everybody is a physically indestructible Ackerman destined and designed to escape death and outlive others whether they want it or not. And showing themselves this vulnerable out in the open is even more dangerous considering all the political intrigues, chaos, attacks, and espionage going on.

When he’s scoffing at skinship in the survey corps, it’s not his intent to ruin the couples and their little happiness in the present moment (nothing he sees as more tragically precious), or say only he can have a relationship because he’s strong enough to make it survive. If anything, Levi is the prime example of how all his connections were doomed exactly because of his status pulling in all the danger. He very well and painfully knows.

What I mean is: He sees the brutality of consequences that can create more misery than if two people would just go about their business. Levi already dreads that the same might happen to him. But after all, the behavior of others is easier to rectify than his own undeniable feelings for you. Which he cannot control in any way, which is why he reacts to others instead. Looking at other people holding hands, he’s also afraid how dabbling in love is a distraction from threats that can even backfire on uninvolved others if someone is suddenly in harm’s way.

Levi does associate physical touch with something that takes an otherwise observing mind off when it shouldn’t be. To him, it creates something so valuable that can become an unintended burden through all kinds of circumstances, he’s seen it all, it’s terrible he had to. And the reason why he has such a torn relationship with it. You really have to know your stuff to build a resilient little bubble where Levi is not constantly hypervigilant and either past- or future-focused.

Which is pretty damn hardwired into him. It’s almost impossible to bring on that kind of atmosphere spontaneously. It has to be ritualized. His intelligence comes with the downside of overthinking and having problems with spontaneous romance, it’s good to direct his thought into something that’s always done in a specific, structured way. You sit down with tea, put the candles on, Levi finishes cleaning his weapons, makes everything combat-ready and usable in seconds, and you carefully lay down on his impeccably made bed together.

Which he never uses, Levi sleeps in chairs. Or on the ground, so he can feel any titan steps in the distance with his whole body, using the cleanest possible mat or towel as a mattress and nothing else. The bed he basically just makes to have it neat, and for you, and to have a spot to lay together. 

But yeah. He will never remove his harness. Not even when you’re sleeping with each other. He’s not once gonna risk having to put it on in a hurry. The only time you will be skin to skin with him is for not even five minutes under the shower. It’s when his cleanliness beats his anxiety around being always ready, which is why that’s a time to fully cherish.

And then, he really has no qualms about you wrapping your hands around his soap-covered torso in the shower anyway. It’s the only time his inner default germaphobe is not vehemently screaming inside his already heavy heart. It doesn’t have anything to do with you, this is about his demons only, confronted with the immense relief you give him. If the latter wins over his mind’s struggle, Levi might draw out the shower time sometimes.

The other voice that tells him ‚don’t make it end so soon’ is now finally convincing him. He will dial down the water stream so he can hear what’s going on outside better to compensate, to know if there’s any ruckus or approaching hazards. Levi has instructed a fast runner among the cadets to bang on the front door under any critical circumstances immediately in the first place.

Levi says he wants to save water, too. He won’t admit it, but he also turns the showerhead to a medium pressure to hear your calm, almost-quiet moans — the barracks have terribly thin walls — better when you’re sucking him off. Slowly, smoothly, not too much spit. Folded towel under your knees because Levi insists, and he is right. The showers in the survey corps have uncomfortable floor tiles. 

He makes sure you won’t get soap in your mouth as well, I don’t have to tell you that he is very circumspect. Levi isn’t usually feeling overly heated in moments like this, but he gets hard and releases fast. You swear his cum tastes like afternoon tea with milk but you won’t tell him that. And who doesn’t like tea and Levi’s homemade milk, no complaints alright.

What’s still a shame is that Levi, always being in such a constant hurry and alertness, puts too much stress on his body for him to become horny all the way. In fact, he often forgets it. He feels numb, and can’t fully take in the sensations. Levi has not been able to feel a lot of genuine pleasure in his life. 

A racing mind is an absolute sex killer, and his adrenaline spikes are so high in combat that most normal things don’t do anything for him. Which is why he brews his tea extra strong. But seriously: It’s a concerning thing. And it tells you to take your time. With his whole body, doing the things he loves the most. And what else could that be? It’s straightforward: Keepin’ it clean.

You make sure that Levi feels extra comfortable by thoroughly massaging his loins and thighs with a sponge during foreplay. Yes, you’re gently working him up. All in circles and light brushing motions. Lots of soap. Suave and bubbly, like silk on his skin. It’s handmade, with oat milk, lavender, and honey. For your honey. You regularly gift a new one to him to try out scents and have supply. You can guess how much Levi appreciates it, to the moon and back in fact. The present box is neatly stored on his office table where he can always see it.

Sending out its balmy fragrance throughout the day, making the room smell amazingly aromatic to him. His nose will never grow tired or accustomed to it. Levi puts the soapbox in a drawer within literal split seconds when someone who isn’t you enters the room. „Tsk, announce yourself when you knock…“ That could even be the newest recruit who doesn’t know anything at all about the place and people. But this is just a you and him thing.

Levi doesn’t want nosy questions from the squad even though nobody would probably even notice the soap laying there in its case, much less ask him about it or the fresh scent in the air because duh, it’s Levi’s office. But it feels absolutely personal for him — so he reacts sensitively about it. This man would probably protect your lavender soap with his blades if he had to. 

The captain is very secretive about your relationship in general. Who on earth would go as far as buy him a new scented bar of joy bi-weekly? At this point, he would crawl on hot coals, needles, lava, ice shards, desert sand, and a mile-long straight of legos (laid out by a maniacally laughing Zeke personally) for you.

Although you wouldn’t allow any of it. Nothing should ever hurt those kitty paws, I mean captain hands and captain feet. You’d put Zeke on blast on your own, luring him with a banana to confuse his senses and then, whack, homerun the monkey into the ocean with Levi’s bristle broom. Problem solved. Anyway.

 Levi wouldn’t hurt himself willingly that way either, the ice shards don’t stand a chance. He has sworn to protect his own life out of self-respect, to honor those passed by living on bravely toward the goal they worked for and being the one always coming home to you. You can rely on him.

So enough about gleaming hot coals and Zeke’s evil legos, back to the point — you already get what I mean. Levi might seem totally grumpy on the outside, but for sure is a devoted man, a caliber as always. He takes all of your presents to heart and is unbelieving as to why he’d be deserving of so much. You prove a point using the gifts as regularly as possible on his body. Where he can feel every bit of your fondness of him. And remember it with muscle memory. Oh shit, this soap does smell so good. As anything on him, who are we kidding.

Dousing Levi with all your attention is the best thing ever. He feels great relaxing with you, and his face softens up. He’s looking at you with a tiny smile in response to you whispering sweet things to him, all while you’re using the sponge on his legs, the chest, and ever-tense back that can definitely use some alleviation. „Thank you for cleaning me“ has got to be the best thing ever to hear from Levi Ackerman. It means the entire world to him. Captain, your mommy kink is showing. His arousal increasing is a natural side effect in no time.

Recently, you’ve been slipping his cock between your breasts as well, and it’s been slowing him down a lot after an eventful mission. While at the same time making him more in the moment, he really enjoys you gradually lathering him up like that. The feeling of skin on skin is amazing. It might be something that… often crosses his mind when he trains during the day, but he can blend it out for the important things. Until you do it all over again, and he ruminates about how much you turn him on until the sun rises.

You also never do a blowjob hands-free. Why would you, anyway? His body is amazingly buff and compact, you want to hold onto those gorgeous lil’ hips and his own hands that need a fair share of holding after carrying the world. You feel him twitching on your tongue when you run either hand over his ass and abs, making sure to trace across all his most erogenous spots there. What’s more: Levi feels really protected and soothed when he feels your palms on him under the streaming water, he can’t explain it.

That's why you like doing shower handjobs just as much. I don’t have to tell you that Levi really delights in them as well and his poker face regularly cracks a bit. His eyes fixate on you, you can tell the connection and involvement. He thinks your fingertips are heavenly, a welcome change to his rugged days. 

He loves how softly they tease and stimulate him with the smallest movements and subtle presses. Yes, Levi doesn’t like rough action, those are vulnerable moments. He has enough brutality elsewhere, violently jerking him off and insulting him would be entirely inappropriate and even scare him.

He’d probably brush your wrists off right away, it’d be so uncomfortable in the silence of the evening. A tender chain of kisses on the nose tip, chin, collar bone, and especially forehead gets him going a lot more. The more chaste and doting the kiss, the more he melts on the inside. 

His anxiety baseline goes down, and he feels like he can let you in. However you guide him and however you choose to indulge him with your lips, Levi is on board, quietly enjoying. Since it’s something that he’s still feeling so new to, leaving you the active role comes naturally.

Stroking him with a deep pace, carefully brushing your lips against his to give him goosebumps — Levi definitely grows into that. In those moments, he really feels taken care of, in safe hands, hands that will stay with him. He’s gonna be surprised just how good something like this feels many times. And be overwhelmed by pleasure to the point where it almost frightens him, he didn’t have that a lot until now.

The satisfaction of a spotless table simply does not compare. Just so you know: He will either be dead silent or mumble under his breath nonstop. That he is okay with you touching him below the belt and even take him in your mouth tells you how much Levi trusts you, how much he knows you love him, and how meticulously he’s already scrubbed and shaved himself beforehand. Yes, the sheer preparation. He puts a lot of work into his body. He couldn’t stand you becoming dirty.

That’s also why the shower is the place oral goes down. And even there, he uses like ten cleaning products to double rinse the stall and himself before and after. Mind you. He sees you eating healthy, brushing your teeth well. Your lips are very beautiful and a masterpiece of nature to him. So it’s not you who he thinks is dirty. Levi is pretty damn paranoid about his own skin and hygiene. If only he would think about himself the way he thinks of your body.

He feels like he has to earn it, be acceptable, and prepare himself endlessly to enjoy touch. Even then, he thinks he must be ugly and revolting. You have to respect him fussing about it rather than forcing him to cut down on his routines. You don’t criticize his perfectionism and see the motivation behind it. So instead, you reassure Levi your own way.

The more he sees you having fun and enjoying his body, the more accepted, confident, and clean he feels. Most people would like to see their partner play up the enthusiasm obviously (unless you have a ‚hiding his amazement’ emo boy kink, which is exactly why you like Levi don’t cha), but it’s particularly meaningful to Levi. Guess why he looks up to Armin’s mentality, and Hange is one of the few people who truly vibe with Levi.

She’s easily amused, dedicated, swooning, excited, and constantly eager. Levi does appreciate a bit of zeal in someone. If you’re a little ardent about touching him, it’ll give his esteem a boost he’s long needed, oh god. Nobody has the guts to praise this guy like that, even if he’s so extremely good-looking. Don’t let him off the hook there. Give him feedback, you’ll be surprised how much it resonates.

It’s already apparent to yourself how keen you are being touchy with him, hell, you’re so in love. Still, it’s a good idea to give him an idea how stoked you are. He doesn’t like it fast and brutally raw without a second thought, but passionate is a whole other debate. A simple „Levi, stay like this, let me do it“ or „Levi, you smell so good“ works wonders. Say what you think and his ease will set in. And I don’t have to tell you that you won’t look like sex is a chore anyway. With Levi, that’s an honor and a pleasure.

That he puts his faith in you and gives you his time is already a massive deal and goes against everything we know of him, what he’s used to, and how his avoidant personality works, being so ridden with losses. And it’s all because of how much you desire and approach him. That’s what it comes down to. 

Even if he’d suffer decades from yearning, he’d not go out of his way to kickstart something, never ever. He’d feel like he’d cause you so much trouble. You wanting him so badly and treating his body like a treasure on the other hand changes his mind.

It proves him wrong all the way. There is still time to enjoy love, the chance is now. Anything else would plague Levi with solitude and self-pity all over again. And the feeling of missing you around in his rooms. Two teacups on the table until he grows old and grey are his ideal of a good life, after all. He will open himself to your emotional and physical presence, realizing how touch-starved he is, and how much it improves his life to have someone to kiss and lay down next to at night.

The even breath at the back of his neck gives him a sense of finally someone sticking around with him side by side, even if he’s gone during the day. It feels good and right to be wanted by you, and nuzzling his face into your cotton dress. Your commitment gives him the little smiles and the silver lining he’s been searching for. He can’t label that feeling, but it’s joy of life and humankind, more than just a willingness for it. He would stay forever pained and bitter if he wouldn’t invite it in now, and you won’t waste that chance with being silent.

You’re attracted to everything about him, tell him, make him aware. The voice, the hair, the mannerisms, his height, his abilities, his mind, his care for others, the posture, how soft his cheeks are, the list is endless. Levi won’t miss how much he’s your type at some point. Which gives him a lot of ease, comfort. You show him that his inferiority complex was an entire smokescreen in his mind. 

He fucking deserves to be called handsome. And by the way — you can lust over him as much as you want when he’s made that time window for your couple stuff. It’s good if you make it as obvious as possible for him. Which is hard to hide anyway. You’ve been masturbating over Levi just sitting there sternly writing something. And he’s like why, and you’re like, it’s you! Look at you!

Levi does want you to touch his skin all over but it’s always sore. And he remains insecure on many days. So he only has particular comfortable spots in the first place. Since hardly anybody dares to touch him, and even if he pats someone’s shoulder nobody would ever be courageous enough to reciprocate, you would feel a bit like a lab scientist. Silently theorizing over him at first even if you really don’t have to. Other people say they’d rather run towards a titan than expose themselves to Levi’s moods, swords, and barking tone after trying to caress him in any way.

News flash, Levi has had such terrible moods since forever because there’s no affection coming to him from anywhere just because people decided he might not need it. And no, he won’t yell at you for touching. He finds it very sweet of you instead. Touching Levi always creates an occasion that will float around in his head for the entire day, that’s guaranteed. He sees how someone goes out of their way and cares for his well-being. He might not like it like standing in the middle of the whole corps, but anywhere else is fair game, at home anyway.

The pressure of dealing with threats he can manage to a degree, and he has lord how many coping strategies. The lack of love he cannot. Big difference that everybody seems to confuse. On top of how he has to be unrelenting in his position because battlefield and the Yeagers being a pain. Most people — except maybe Armin — see that as a closedness to touching altogether. 

The whole world seemingly can't intuit Levi’s craving of gentleness behind the arguably pretty convincing armor, but still. It seems like only a few souls ever think about the Levi that sits down on his bed in the evening completely depleted. You have to make it clear to yourself and him that it’s obviously a one-dimensional way of looking at Levi Ackerman and not good for him.

Which has covertly shaped how he interacts with others in return like a vicious spiral, which is why he blames solely himself for his depravation. And, how severe and untouchable the circumstances made his character. Yes, Levi despises himself for being inaccessible and unable to change it on top, added to how it happened to him over the years. 

Which he had pretty much zero influence on being basically at the gunpoint of life. It’s what you hate seeing the most and comfort him about with brewing tea. It definitely comes back tenfold, Levi won’t take it for granted when you brush out his hair and speak soothingly to him in the evening. „I don’t care, those are all reasons why you’re the apple of my eye“ seems to be what makes Levi’s heart a little mushy in particular.

He is very preoccupied with blame at the start of your relationship. Levi is torn apart by daily guilt and a constantly looming perception of failure to show an opening to his heart. He also crumbles under how the majority of people don’t take him seriously, overreact, or fear he snaps back into soldier mode — he doesn’t — when he does show affection. 

That you gaze behind his reputation and touch him without prejudice is the most important thing to him. You can ignore his mad and gloomy expression, Paradis has carved it into his face for half an eternity (the other half is for you and him when this is over). It doesn’t mean he’s angry on the inside about you. The causes for his madness are way elsewhere, knowing his early story it goes without saying. What made Levi callous and broken-hearted are things very opposite to you.

Those who only see and enjoy his fighting personality probably want him as their poster boy, people who are reflected enough to bother with the idea of a private, cuddling Levi are the only truly caring ones. Because private Levi needs that physical and emotional connection the most. Patting his cadets on their heads is only a little, albeit meaningful moment. The teacup is still half-empty regardless if you wanna think of it in those terms.

Because he can only do so much in terms of initiative — which already shocks people to the point of paralysis, which ruins the moment since he assumes it’s not appreciated then — and it’s only one-sided. Giving isn’t fully making him happy even if it’s his only option given how most people perceive him. 

The teacup only fills to the brim if Levi can let go for like half an hour getting some good ole kitty on your lap treatment. He silently lays there and enjoys your hand rubbing at the back of his neck. He looks genuinely peaceful that way. His hand palms gently at your thigh and knee, and rests there all tranquil while he ruminates about his day and how lucky he is to have you.

The whole ‚theorzing rather than going for it‘ thing stems from you listening to those people a bit too much at the beginning. Instead of asking Levi directly about touch, and to be fair: Not a single human being has done that yet, you try to figure him out at a distance. Which is also a good thing though. 

You learn about many Levi habits others would overlook, misinterpret, or don’t think have any meaning. The more you learn about him, the more understanding you become, the more protective you will be, the less he will avoid intimacy. Because Levi really doesn’t want to shy away, but often his body has too much memory in it to be instantly receptive. So it rather starts with the mind, then.

The irony is. Levi rejecting bonds with others as not to have them weigh heavy on his mind when fighting will only make it worse. You make a statement to him that if he fully immerses himself in what you have, he can fight better and actually be without those godforsaken regrets he’s always talking about. That’s why when you’re having sex, you make him look in your eyes and kiss their lids, and wrap your legs around him very firmly because Levi has to know he’s deeply yours. 

Hugs, the same thing. You squeeze the last curse out of him every time and tell him to hold you tight as well. You do have to tell him twice. Just because Levi is the strongest man in history, doesn’t mean he embraces very roughly. In fact, Levi is not used to this at all. Even more irony. Paradis’ ever-swearing, most badass titan killer with the physical excellence of a hundred acrobats can’t execute the simple act of putting his arms around you in a normal, casual way.

The why is the harder thing to talk about. Last time he got proper, truly loving hugs was way over 20 years ago. From Kuchel, during a time where he was too young to remember these things long-term. Let that sink in. It confuses him when he does it and even more so when others do. Kissing Historia’s hand even as a light official gesture was already completely unusual for him and a first time. 

Levi doesn’t go beyond what he sees others doing in that regard. No extra miles, just imitating. Now think of him with something as big a deal as embracing his lover for minutes. He lets his arms just hang there and you gotta make him learn how to intertwine fingers or how to press his palms on your back. You’re the one holding him tight there, while Levi’s mind and stare go blank, he’s even more speechless and perplexed after confronting his uncle back then.

I’m not kidding. You have to ask Levi to be forthcoming with those things as well, it simply does not occur to him, and he’s unsure about everything there is to it. What a loveless world this guy is in. If it already frustrates you to see him struggle, imagine how deprived he must be. One of his inner blocks is, Levi has major jealousy of guys who are what he thinks a better hugging height. It’s obviously the other way around to anybody who’d be in love with Levi. 

Of course he has the best hugging height by far. What’s not to like? He’s ideal. But in his perspective, imagine all these people above him wrapping around each other in moments of enthusiasm, shoulder-level on shoulder-level, or only with slight differences. And when it comes to him, it feels awkward because they feel strange bending down only for him and Armin.

And that’s probably the issue. Because it’s much better not to bend and try and intertwine, but just have Levi bury his face into your winter coat without a hassle. You don’t have to be perfectly chest to chest to make it work. Besides… romantic hugs are always a bit different. And, you invite Levi to do exactly that with you. Since Levi’s pet peeve is politeness, you’ll also have to show him the difference between mere courtesy and love, he hasn’t fully learned it either. 

But just so you know. Levi is not a naive baby or raging bull in a china shop once he has given his love to someone. He observes well, adapts well. When it’s heartfelt, when it’s the right moment, it comes out almost by surprise, he’s feeling it and he will respond to you. With serenity and intent.

If there’s someone who can be unpretentious with physicality, that’s him. He just has to transfer that to romantic gestures and Levi will be the perfect lover after some time. He’ll end up like, „Eh, so what. We do this hugging thing!“ — Hilarious. Levi, knowing his battle tactics, does have a sort of innate courage to approach bodies: This time, it’s about someone he wants to give pleasure and gratitude to, though. Which will feel very different. 

And you’re a lady he’s all whipped for, that changes everything. He might sort of try to lean at the wall next to you, to murmur about you kissing him after eating cake so he’s full of crumbs „and now I have to dust it all off again, hmph“, but he is not prepared for another kiss and you tickling him pinned against the wall (he’s not ticklish, but you still love it, and Levi has a thing for you being all over him despite his stoic face).

So yeah, Levi will be super grumpy and do the „Oi oi!“ thing, but also turn around so you won’t see the blush. Man, is he embarrassed. He will try to waddle away awkwardly to do paperwork, but no chance if you tug him back by the sleeve, dust off his shirt from crumbs, and squeeze his cheeks into a perfect Levi snoot. I’m telling you, he has a nice pouty face. 

He might assume that you’re out of your mind because nobody has done that with him yet, but once you tell him that you just wanna look at him because every day might be the last, he sees the point of your antics. Merely saying you kiss him just because won’t make sense to the captain, it’s gotta have a purpose for the future.  

So, you will tell him to always remember what your soothing lips do on him before he draws the blade tomorrow, and that he has plenty of filthy crumbs to come home to. „I think that’s right by what we’ve seen today“ is what he’ll admit, and carries you off to the bed to get grinding because all that stuff made him kinda turned on. Or rather, you grind, Levi on the other hand gets flustered. He complains about you being a tease at length since he’s having a huge she-pinned-me-to-the-wall boner. 

You sit on his face to take it even further and as his favorite treat, end of discussion, your goddess is here mister. Geez, you’ll make him a hot mess. That dick won’t go soft anytime soon. You’ll talk to him about when his face is already ruined with cake crumbs, he has nothing to lose, gotta clean up anyway. The grumbling noise from below tells you that the argument is a good one. For good measure, you palm at his trousers to see his legs react and his voice suddenly hitch. Ah, it’s a wonderful day.

Levi knows a thing or two about holding his breath correctly, but what he likes the most is that he feels perfectly sandwiched between thigh Rose and thigh Maria. Yeah, he does consider them his personal comfort walls and hopes they’ll always be there. Congruently, Levi wraps his arms around them, in fact it’s locking rather than wrapping, and you’re like I see wow he’s serious. 

On goes his tongue lapping away between your labia pretty much incessantly. The arousal is so intense, you have to breathe in yourself. Oh shit, Levi is gonna try to finish you off, shots fired. Not fast, but insisting. He does not bother with you panting pretty damn hard whatsoever. He’s calling people like that, but Levi might be the real brat all along.

Fair enough, he currently doesn’t hear anything, which he also loves the idea of. All day, people everywhere are talking nonsense, and now he gets to enjoy perfect silence. His ears are small, they’re easy to cover with thighs. He just goes on and on and gets you past lord how many brinks with a heated buildup. 

There are a lot of evil things Mister Zeke has said and committed, but by far the most offending thing he has yet insinuated is that Levi is not popular with the ladies. Blasphemy, treason, outrage, éclat, trickery, criminal offense, international slander, the most grueling case of fake news since the horse left the building, and no, Jean is not meant. With those oral skills, any lady interested in him would get a permanently bleeding nose and something else permanently wet as you can personally attest to.

If Paradis would even remotely know what he can do in bed (and they would if Connie told them, he lives next door), even more people would run down his house than they already do to get a piece of him. Jesus Christ, the Ackerstamina. But I mean. People are probably suspecting it. 

How can you not move like a god in bed if you can bend yourself into any Pythagorean shape mid-air. Him being a fighter also gives him experience with managing energy when you have sex, I’m not kidding. Levi can even handle you thrusting right back on his tongue, and even your jokes about how he’s getting the cream to his tea now.

Levi is already kind of dripping in juice. His fingers are sweaty, this time it’s something on his face and hands he prefers though. He won’t wipe it off just yet. So you take on the task to put a condom on him — kind of expensive, mysteriously imported, gotta make every one count my friend — and have Levi take you from behind to soil the bedsheets completely at this point. 

Levi lets all the leaking happen, of course he notices, and yet he’s too focused on you gripping his cock hard all the way. So much for walls. Levi has to surrender to the thought of you squeezing him in any way you fancy at this point. That doesn’t just include the face, that much he learned. His cock is gonna fall off, you tighten up so much and make him squirm, Levi’s all blissed out.

He can’t handle your ass either. He just stares like the Founding Titan invented a brand new method to hypnotize the Ackermans or something. Although. Why’d you need to come up with something, though? People they love completely enthrall them already. 

If we know something by now, it's that every Ackerman gets completely fucked in the head out of the blue and sent to another dimension when they’re with the love of their life, no hypnotizing device needed. Levi is clasping his teeth for his dear life back there. People asking him if he’s gone mad he’d answer ‚maybe‘, but if you asked him if this made him lose it he would admit it.

Since he doesn’t know what to do with his hands again, you ask him to place them at your waist. „Properly, now slide in, Levi.“ — He takes his time for the first few thrusts, grunts, but gets the hang of it, in fact he’s a pro in the making. All that vertical maneuvering can turn into horizontal maneuvering very quickly. Levi feels so strange and so good at the same time, it’s overwhelming. How can something he thought would be so dirty be this amazing? 

And since this position allows him to penetrate you even deeper, Levi gets the full experience of being inside of you times two. The wet noise already turns him on, his body feels so warmed up, and he feels really shocked he’s doing this. Although his face won’t show, it’ll be concentrated as before. On the inside, Levi is losing it.

He can’t get enough of your body and how you tell him what to do, Levi will be driving it home in no time. You’re gonna have your jaw dropped by how lusty he can get yourself, but also love how he’s really breaking a sweat just because of your hard grip. Who would have thought. 14-meter class titans got nothing on you. Levi’s entire neck and chest is glazed over. You call him out on it, all you’re gonna get is a little ‚tch, that’s your fault, woman‘. I mean of course it is. He’s literally at your mercy. I told you he’s hilarious.

Little did you know that Levi will straight-up ignore his sweatiness and just continue, one heartbeat at a time, to really fill you out and make you feel good. Can you imagine. Levi dedicating like 20 minutes to make sweet love to you doggystyle. 

He has a good feeling for keeping you just on the verge of cumming. He even reaches around to press two fingers into your clit after five minutes of figuring out his angles. You didn’t expect this at all. It’s as if Levi can read your mind going „but his hands are gonna get really messy, why?“ — he just goes on rubbing and says, deadpan: „Miss, do I look like I care.“

Some dirty things in the world are just there to annoy him. They’re not existing to make his life easier. And toilet humor-related things: We know Levi’s stance on that. Wet pussy on the other hand: Surprise. He thinks of it very differently. Levi is pretty caught off guard by the fact that you loving and adoring him is the reason you’re leaking so much. 

It sinks in (um, literally) that you’re all drippy because you really want him inside. Not to mention that he constantly realizes just how attracted to him you are. Your desire for him, that’s Ackerman kryptonite. Levi doesn’t miss your eyes, nope. That motherfucker is a damn good face reader.

And— How warmed up your body feels in his hands, how you’re breathing. How you’re telling him exactly how to tilt to hit the good spots. How you’re sucking in air when he does just that. How you sound, grip the pillow, the sheets. Your goosebumps all over your legs. How your lips part. How you wait for every thrust. The way you tell him how good it is. Your pulse. Your own sweaty back, letting his hands on your waist slip and slide a little with the rhythm. 

How he’s struggling not to moan his soul out and chokes back. How you’re softly moving to glide off, he’s gonna lose his mind. How much you’re enjoying him and how cute you tell him he is. Whatever you’d ask of him, he’s so ready to fulfill it. You having the absolute hots for Levi is probably gonna preoccupy him for the whole night while you’re sleeping and he sits in the chair.

He’s been shooting grumpy cat level eye daggers with extra Ackerpoison at the corps couples for walking around showing any signs of this. Making all those lovey-dovey faces or going to the back of the barn together. Levi has chased them with his favored broom to whoop-diddly-doop those horndog soldiers back on track, swirling his weapon of choice around to send a sweeping cloud of dust after them.

Whereas now… he has to deal with the fact that he really loves all that horny stuff. Cognitive dissonance 101 is striking him out of nowhere. I mean he’d not fuck in the barn, that one is truly disgustingly shittily bastardly filthy or however he’d word it, but you get the gist. He caught feelings and caught pleasure — and that’s such a good thing.

His problem is, Levi wouldn’t know how to fawn right back at you. Except saying „good job“ like he’d praise a cadet, but he decides that’s not something to say during sex. He’s very right about that indeed. So instead: He will always reply to you accordingly and with Levi-typical honesty. 

If you say you love how he kisses your neck from behind, he will tell you he’s enjoying it as well because damn he loves that spot indeed (titans can tell you a story about it… Levi has such a neck fixation, that fucker). And: Letting actions speak the loudest with him. He’s a practical guy. Levi’s hands can to the most complicated reverse grips and all that crazy human Beyblade shit. Getting you off at his fingertips is gonna be his easiest exercise ever once he gets into it.

He doesn’t even do it to show off at this point. Levi is just that kind of a sex machine and eager to please, not to mention god, is he obedient and a giver in disguise. If Levi were offered the most luxurious, expensive tea available versus your breasts to suck on for a week given he’s free of titan duty… that cup is gonna turn cold. He loves the skinship and he loves giving you a fuckton of orgasms, as many as you like and as many he has time for.

Self-explanatory, this is something he will not feel one bit of regret about. Hours touching you is the farthest from wasting time to Levi. The less he holds back with his love, the more secure things become. He doesn’t feel the misery he thought he’d run into, nor does it feel like a reckless act that’s only something feeble. 

The new soap every other week on his table alone reminds him you’re here to stay and like his every quirk, and make this a private thing rather than something to parade around. You never lied saying „Levi, you’re mine.“ He does wrap his head around the fact that all of this is happening with time.

Levi finds your relationship meaningful because it gives him feelings and exactly that emotional harbor he never had before, and he gifts you the reverence of your lifetime since Levi doesn’t half-ass anything. You reassured and guided him so much, he looks up to that, it breaks down his prejudice against loving more and more. That’s how you’ll feel intimate in all kinds of ways for very intense hours he can spare to make the most out of it. 

From the light touch at his arm to making out until the candles burn down. And if you tell Levi to sell the deal and dedicate his heart, how can he not take that as a serious order. He has to be guarded to put his guard down, and that’s what you can offer him, and he will create something lasting out of it. Promise is promise to him, we all know.

RELATED:  sub!levi hc (tea shop au) | life after war (levi’s happy end)

multifandom mlist | levi writings on ao3

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts and translations allowed.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

A Thousand Year Love ~ Ryomen Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader

Okay, I wrote the Reader's name as "Kitsune", but that's mostly because I envisioned a nine tailed fox without an actual name, that everyone would just call her "Fox" as if she wasn't anyone worth naming, despite her rank.

This is a little fic which explored Sukuna's supposed backstory, 1000 years prior to he action of Jujutsu Kaisen - Idk if it's accurate, I didn't yet read the manga, I still have 6 more episodes from the anime, but I had this idea and I couldn't stop myself from writing about it.

Most of it builds up the bond that very slowly grows between Sukuna and Kitsune, then snaps during a scene somewhere around episode 4 of the anime, when Sukuna takes over Yuji's body, and Yuji can't switch for a while, but with enough altercations that it's not exactly the same as in the said episode.

Hope you enjoy this <3

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"What are we doing here...?" Kitsune asked her parents in a voice that was barely audible as she looked left and right at the huge estate's gardens.

Estate? Rather said, palace, since this place was grandiose - Most likely, even more so than the Emperor's own Palace, the girl thought to herself. Everywhere she looked, cherry, plum and pear trees were in blossom, even though it wasn't their time. Statues and little shrines, along with various small pools with flowers, lanterns and lotuses were scattered as much as her vision would allow her to see. Looking up at the estate, she realised just how small she was in comparison to the intimidating and imposing energies radiating all over the place.

"You are going to meet someone very important, dear." her mother spoke, yet her voice wasn't as gentle as usual, rather, it sounded stiff, on the edge...Almost afraid, maybe? It was foreign for young Kitsune, as she has been confined in her little palace her whole life under the pretext of keeping her safe. But it did exactly the opposite, she believed, considering she itched to explore and go on adventures with each second passing. "Who is it?" she asked as soon as they stepped inside the palace...But it was so dark, save for the red, malicious light from the lanterns and candles lit in just the perfect places so it would guide them to the room they had to go to. "...You will find out soon." her father snapped at her, and she could only frown, her fluffy ears flicking as her tails wrapped protectively around herself. She knew something was wrong, and she had half a mind to believe she was brought there as a sacrifice for some War Deity that would allegedly save them from this era of war...Or something along the lines.

After a longer walk than expected, they found themselves in front of two large, red doors, and without any kind of reticence, Kitsune effortlessly slammed the doors open and saw a dimly lit room with a few stairs and a throne where a man with short, kinda spiky pink hair, garbed in a loose, white kimono was smugly sprawled over that royally embellished chair, while tons of gorgeous women dressed in the most luxurious kimonos, their hair done up with intricate headpieces and flowers that would put any living being to shame...

But what is this about? Kitsune was more confused than anything, and she could only step inside the room, slowly and carefully, before turning to look at her parents, who had a pitiful look in their eyes.

"What is going on?" Kitsune demanded an answer, her voice agitated, her body ready to go into a fight or flight mode, her eyes darting rapidly between her parents and the man on the throne whose name she wasn't interested in finding out. "Well, darling...You see...You had to find you a husband. You are old enough to be married, and you can't stay with us forever. You need to have a family and children. You are the princess of the Fox clan, there is nobody more beautiful than you -..." her mother tried to reason, but the young girl wasn't stupid. She understood what was going on. "No. No. If you want to speak - Then speak the truth. Don't lie to me. This guy is strong, isn't he? Some kind of demonic thing that everyone is afraid off. You are giving me away to this guy...To be his...Thousandth concubine in his harem or something, just because you're too weak to take care of our kin. That's the truth, isn't it? Go on, admit it. Stop trying to sugar coat the situation." her nine tails opened from around her in a large, undulating fan, making her aggression obvious, as fire began to immolate the tips of her fur. "SHUT UP, IMPERTINENT, UNRULY CHILD!" her mother slapped her face, not wanting their benefactor to hear his future concubine speaking so foul of him. "You are a woman, and the princess, nonetheless, and your role is to continue our kin and obey your family and husband. Do not speak unless you are allowed to!" but before her mother could grab her face, Kitsune's tail slapped her hand away, and she stepped back. "I am nobody's toy. I will not obey anyone's orders. Not yours, and not his. I will not be just another concubine for some disgusting, good for nothing lecher with no redeeming quality." the girl snarled at them, ready to make her escape out of there, if needed. "If your sister was alive, she would have sacrificed herself for the greater good of this family! You are nothing more than a selfish brat!" it was her father's time to accuse her, which made her ears perk up, while her tails completely deflated. "Yes, of course, how could I forget. It was me who should have died, not my perfect elder sister. Sorry, but you should curse the Gods, not me for that. But, since it seems that my life is meaningless to you, then I will make you a favour! I will end it myself! I'm sure you'll be happy without me, won't you? Ahh...But how will you save our war-ridden? Too bad I won't be alive to witness your demise, huh?" with a dark chuckle, Kitsune's hand went inside her kimono, taking the small kodachi sword and unsheathing it, hearing only the gasps and shrieks of fright from the harem girls. Kitsune could only guess that these girls were all high-born and unfamiliar to the horrible things happening outside of these walls. "What the hell are you doing, you idiotic child?! Cease this madness at once!" her mother shrieked at her, lounging towards her, trying to stop herself from impaling that blade through her body, and yet...

The second the girl launched her hand down to stab herself...She got stopped. The whole place became instantly silent, save for the sound of a blade bouncing down as it fell on the wooden floor. "Enough." a dark, annoyed voice resounded through the place as Kitsune's wrists were grasped by the man's...Front hands? While her body was immobilized in an embrace by his other two arms. "I was promised a beautiful princess as a concubine, and you failed to do as you promised. Leave, before I get bored and kill you." he threatened the two adult fox people who scurried away in a hurry, leaving behind their only daughter without a second thought. "You, however...Will remain here." he chuckled in her ear, but Kitsune wasn't one to be messed with. Her answer came in the form of lighting up her tails on fire an wrapping them around the man, who hissed and unhanded her, allowing her enough time to go into a corner and get in a fleeing stance. "Why did you stop me? I have no intention of being one of your whores. You should have let me end it right there." she scoffed at the man, who dismissed the bottom pair of arms and laughed. It was almost a psychopathic laugh, she thought, and it made the hair on the back of her neck stand up - Unsure if it was from fright or disgust. "You amuse me, little vixen. Very much, you amuse me. Having a little fox wag her tails around this place, all fired up, would give some sense of fun, wouldn't you say?" his voice was grating her, and she only wanted to sock him in the jaw. "Keep on dreaming. I'm not your toy, and I'm not here for anyone's entertainment. You have enough girls in this place to amuse you. I'll be going now, and even if you chain me, you can't stop me from achieving my freedom." Kitsune growled at him, slamming open the sliding door that would lead into the balcony, from where she could jump the hell away from there. "You proved you value your life even less than your parents do, so chaining you would do nothing. I have never seen a woman as fiery as you. All the ones I have are the same. Meek, soft...Afraid. Boring. They all like the same things, and hate the same things." he groaned pitifully, evidently bored out of his mind. "They hate you, don't they? You want women, but you don't bother treating them right. Can you get even more typically terrible? Pitiful and disgusting, that's what you are. You just want to break people for your entertainment. You are nothing more than a selfish megalomaniac. No wonder you are in need of entertaining, you are thoroughly boring." Kitsune's degrading words, however, didn't seem to phase the man at all - In fact - It made him laugh. Never, in this life, has he heard anything this degrading before - Everyone tried their best to appeal to his benevolent and merciful side - To at least spare their lives. He was stronger than anyone alive, so nobody dared speak up in front of him. It was obvious she had no idea who he was - All the better - He thought. "Ryomen Sukuna, missy, but you can call me your Emperor." that confident laugh was enough to drive Kitsune up the wall with anger as she stomped to his side and actually punched his jaw. It was annoying - The height difference - As he towered over her entirely, but at least she managed to reach where needed, little miss firecracker. "Piss off." the fox girl growled in anger at him...And yet...He only...Laughed. And he cupped her face, getting his own so close to hers that they could feel each other's breaths. "You. Are. Mine." his grin was so wide and sociopathic that he might as well have had his face split in two. "I will never be yours. I will never be anyone's. I'm not an object. I will not obey anyone. The second you leave me out of your sight, I will flee, and you will never see me again. And if I can't, I will find a way to kill myself. I have nothing to live for, but everything to die for." Kitsune bared her elongated canines at him, and gosh, was she enticing. "And if I get rid of the harem?" he asked, not bothering with everything she talked before. "You'll be a heartless jerk who'll destroy

the lives of so many women." she refuted just as quickly. "And if I don't fuck anyone but you?" he threw that, wanting to fluster her, but the fire in her eyes only ignited even higher. "As usual, you can only think with the wrong head, can't you? There's nothing to you but your stupid little prick. How pathetic. And you call yourself a man. Go die in the war or something." she grabbed him by the loose neck line of his kimono, only to hear him laughing condescendingly. "But darling, that just couldn't possibly happen. I am simply too strong to get killed. Everybody fears my power, why else do you think your parents were so willing to give you away? They were weak, just like you said, and every weakling needs the help of Ryomen Sukuna, Japan's own God of War." this statement made the girl's gorgeous eyes widen in shock...Only to start laughing, almost hysterically. "Oh, bow down to the self proclaimed God of War! Can you believe that! Your majesty, tone down your arrogance, it's gonna get yourself killed! I knew it, you're absolutely useless! All you can do is bark, no bite, little puppy! The only thing intimidating about you is your height, other than that, you are just a generic man who thinks he's all to powerful. How ridiculous." the fox girl couldn't stop her degrading laughing, which confused the man for a while, only to smirk and pick her up bridal style, carrying her out of that room, not letting her get out of his grasp, no matter how much she tried to wiggle or burn him. "I won't let you go until you acknowledge my infinite strength, cute, little fox. But don't think that just because I favour you, I will let you get away with all the shit you called me." his voice sounded darker, more ominously, but it didn't seem to intimidate the girl. "Not in a million years. Not even in your sweetest dreams. You're pathetic and I'll never acknowledge you as anything else but a disgusting, lecherous pig!" she yelled at his face, to which he responded by letting her roughly fall on a soft futon, then crouching by her side and gripping her face just as her mother did before. "Say that again when you'll end up screaming my name as if your life depends on it." he laughed at her before leaving her new room, which she won't leave for a while.

This annoying girl, Sukuna was intrigued by her, but at the same time, he was very tempted into strangling her or snapping her neck - Despite all that fire she lets out, he was curious if she'd end up groveling in self-pity, begging him for mercy, going back on her previous misguided and foolish courage. Wasn't it bad enough that she had no idea who HE was? He also had to endure such disrespect - And even worse - Enjoy it? That little fox bitch was ready to commit seppuku in front of everyone just to prove a point, what the hell else could be more entertaining? All the women he's had were given away by their families as tributes, and none said a word. He was a jerk to them, he fucked them, he mistreated them - Sukuna didn't give a fuck about any woman, man, child, animal...Or any living being in the world, except for himself. All were beneath him - Unworthy, weak, frail -...

And yet, they still lie to his face, trembling as they say all the fake, sweet nothings - "I love you, My Lord" the women would say, their voice shaky, jumping in fright as he'd touch them. He was a rough man, he never knew gentleness, nor mercy, no love - Through all the words spewed by the firey woman, the part where she declared he had no idea how to treat women properly - Yes, it was true, but did he care? Of course not.

Humans were all puppets with whom he could play as much as he wanted - All instruments for his entertaining in this terribly boring world, he would manipulate everyone like dolls on his strings, and when they've exhausted their means of entertaining him, the string will be cut, and the puppets will fall in an abyss of infernal fire.

For the first two weeks, Sukuna and Kitsune were literally acting like a cat chasing a mouse - And each time, the cat would surprise the mouse just as she was about to survive - He was giving her hope of success, only to pick her up by one of her many tails, or embrace her from behind, pick her up, trip her, show up from behind a tree, play with her hair as he came up from a tree behind her, and sometimes, even going as far as to mock her by pointing her the way out of the place.

But very soon, she gave up, and decided to starve herself to death by not leaving her assigned room, ignoring him entirely whenever she'd get visited by him - But that ended in the worst way possible - With her fainting and unable to wake up, and Sukuna freaking out because he didn't want his little toy to die before she got boring.

He laid next to her on the futon, holding her in his eyes, brushing her hair out of her face, playing with her vivid red hair - She truly looked like a fox in Sukuna's eyes, and he almost felt his heart warm up as he felt up the soft fur on her tails, waiting for his cursed energy to heal her up. After some time, he noticed the little red ball of fur getting smaller and smaller as she cuddled into his chest, resembling a defenseless kit searching for warmth, love and safety from its mother. She was so much smaller than him - So frail, so thin, so soft...So cute? - What was it that he was feeling? Calmness? Protectiveness?

He was furious at her for neglecting her health just so she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of toying with her - But that was also endearing, in its own, messed up way? She would go to such dramatic extremes to prove him wrong...It seemed that no matter what she did, it would still make him enjoy her company.

Whenever he'd fuck one of his harem girls, he wouldn't stay over, not even for a kiss - Hell, he didn't even know most of their names - Why should he? They were all the same to him - But he felt such a strong sense of protectiveness over he - He didn't want to strangle her to death anymore - Maybe just a bit of fun, some teasing, some startling - His hand around her supple neck as she looks up at him with her sparkling eyes, calling out his name - Sukuna, Sukuna - Pleading softly, but desperately to him for her sweet release - Sukuna, Sukuna - And he will be merciful, for once, and give her what she wants.

Just as he was caught in his own, sick fantasy, he felt the girl move and grumble, turning on her back, her small hands flying to rub her eyes awake - And he rolled over her, a playful, teasing smirk on his face as he waited for her to realise the position they were in - And yet, she was still out of it, for her eyes were half-lidded and gleaming, she was still weak from her lack of self-care, and she could only look up at him, dazed..."Sukuna...?" she mumbled in a whispery tone - What is she doing to him?! How dare she entice him so much? He wasn't supposed to be attracted to her in any way, so why...?!

"Relax, sweet-cheeks. I'm here." he spoke in a low voice, not wanting to alert her...Wait, what - "...Thanks." muttering that, she let out a soft sigh as she closed her eyes again, the corners of her mouth slightly turned upright as she allowed herself to fall back asleep and rest, not caring too much that she felt a slight pressure on both of her hands, in the form of the demon man pressing his own hands to hers, intertwining their fingers together as he towered over her, watching her chest rise and fall rhythmically as she breathed, her kissable, pink lips just a tiny bit parted. He couldn't stop himself - She was too irresistible, and he was much too insatiable - And he leaned down, pressing his own lips over hers - Gently - Very gently in fact, almost as if afraid of breaking a porcelain doll, as if afraid to crush a snowdrop he just picked from a glade, one just just barely managed to get out from under the remaining, melting snow of early spring. "You'll be the death of me, cutie." he found himself saying as he licked his lips, taking in the sweetness of the kiss.

Since then on, despite not being exactly friendly with the man, the fox girl didn't hate him that much anymore. It even got well enough for them to eat in the same room, or play shogi - The girl beating him at it more often than not, which left mixed feelings in his heart - And then he showed her the musical instruments that the concubines would sometimes use whenever he'd want a banquet and more sinful indulgences. He didn't ask her to play for him, though. He realised that the more he tried to push the girl, the less likely she'll actually do anything he wants.

Even more, the more time they spent together, the more his concubines would get neglected - So much that he was completely drawn to this fox girl and all the other women were completely wiped from his head. - And he started gifting her a bunch of beautiful kimonos, only to find them in front of his room's door, rejected. She didn't want anything from him, nor did she want his favour, so she continued wearing her simple clothes.

Until...

Until one night - It was a special night, really - For the moon was full, and big, and gleaming with such a beautiful silver light that neither of them saw in the many years they've been alive. And Kitsune dressed in one of her festival yukatas and went to the lotus pond, surrounded by a few wisteria trees, as the mirror of the water reflected the celestial orb like sparkling zircons. The fox gingerly jumped in the middle of the sheen, walking on it like a spirit, only her feminine silhouette being seen, as her long hair was gently blown by the warm spring wind and her tails were dancing around her in perfect sync. As her feet moved to the sound of the melody she played on a vertical flute she was given by the owner of the place, Sukuna found himself unable to move from his place on the palace balcony, his sight fixated on the woman's form as she alternated playing the instrument and dancing with ribbon-fans.

Her moves were fluid and mystifying like those of a priestess leading a will'o'wisp to rest into kakuriyo, the land of the dead - what was he supposed to do now? He was confused and mesmerised. He's seen his fair share of beautiful women playing instruments and dancing for him - Hundreds of them, in fact - But none could match the effect this nine tailed fox girl had on him.

This continued days on end, but he never admitted to her that he was stalking her every night, nor that he was completely enchanted and under her spell, at the point of no return.

"I'm going to war tomorrow." he told her one evening as he poured himself some sake. "...Good for you. Finally, more entertaining for the most powerful man on Earth...Or something. Bring me a souvenir when you return, I guess." the girl merely shrugged her shoulders as she took the tea pot and poured herself some tea, not bothering with any reaction. "You're not worried for me, are you? What if I die tomorrow? Will you weep for me?" he leaned forward, taking her chin between his fingers. " 'Course not. You're the one who keeps boasting about how you're the most powerful man on Earth and The God of War or something. Besides - If you die, I will just steal all your money and get the hell out of this place, so I can finally see the world through my very eyes, not through inked letters on paper. I want to be free and fly. Life here is boring. I've had enough years of being home stuck, don't you think?" she snapped at him as she snatched the now empty sake up and poured herself some alcohol. "And what if I promise to take you out to see the world when I return?" he smirked at her, watching her ears perk up a bit at the proposition. "...I don't believe you." she looked away before she could reveal any real emotion in her eyes. "I promise. But you also have to promise to relax around me. You're always on the edge, even if you've been here for a whole year. I saw you play in the winter, jump to collect autumn leaves taken by the wind, pick up fruit after climbing up the trees, and make flower crowns in spring. I saw you get buried completely in snow, only one of your tails being seen, I saw you make fruit wine in autumn, send paper lanterns into the sky and bathe in the lotus ponds. We're not strangers anymore, and I've never hurt you even once. So, do we have a deal?" his hunter-like eyes carefully watched her every reaction, noticing how her bottom lip quivered ever so slightly, before biting into it softly - She was nervous, that much was obvious - And Sukuna was now a pro at reading her behaviour. "...I'll try. But if you go back on your promise...I promise you, you won't wake up the next morning." she scoffed, threatening him, but it only ended up making him laugh. "The little kitten has claws, how adorable. That's fair, I'll let you have that." the man chuckled at her, petting her hair just between her ears, making her close her eyes and blush just a tiny bit. He was finally able to reach her - Not by much, but even this much was enough for him...For now.

For a whole month, Kitsune was all alone in the palace - Or so she felt, despite the numerous harem girls and the servants - All who had to obey her every order - But she refused any of that. If she wanted to eat, she would make food for herself. If she wanted to drink, she'd get some herself. If she wanted to bathe, she would prepare the bath herself - Just as she's always done. However, all this time, she was never in need of company. She couldn't handle people, nor their fakeness and many other useless emotions that would only make them vulnerable and susceptible of being used and taken for granted.

She's been through that numerous times while living with her family, and she wasn't about to let that happen again.

Thankfully, Kitsune never felt lonely, nor bored - However, she realised that she actually enjoyed Sukuna's annoying presence, and somehow, she found herself awaiting his coming back sooner.

"Master came back, vacation's over. Take care, everyone...I heard he's been injured. Can you believe it? Never thought demons can bleed." the many rumours circulated around the palace, but the fox girl only snapped at the gossipers, glaring at them to shut up. But she didn't go to greet him, like everyone else did. Instead, she waited until night to go to his room, and she found him on the ground, calmly drinking some sake.

"Ah, look at this, a little fox found its way in my humble abode. What ever could you be doing here, I wonder?" he chuckled teasingly, as she only looked down at him, giving him a slight head tilt, yet no expression on her blank face. "Are you wounded?" she muttered in a low voice, almost half-wanting not to have been heard...But she was. "Ha! So you heard those rumours too, haven't you? How ridiculous! Me? Ryomen Sukuna, the God of War, getting injured? Preposterous!" his bark-like laugh echoed through the place, but it didn't move the girl in any way. Instead, slowly crouched next to him, snatching down the already loose kimono top from his torso, letting it fall down to his chest, as her delicate fingers traced his chest, arm and back, analysing each and every fresh wound and scar alike. "I thought you could heal. Cursed energy magic or something. What you did to me when I passed out. Stupid liar. All you know how to do is to boast to everyone, but you can't even admit that you are still capable of making mistakes sometimes." her voice was obviously pissed off, but not enough to sock him in the jaw again. "Anti-regeneration magic. I didn't know something like that existed. Gimme a break." he scoffed, looking away in mild embarrassment. "Lucky you. Now don't move, or you'll really piss me off." she sneered at him as she made blue fire light up her palms and focused on healing him. It was then that she realised how good it felt to feel someone's bare skin, to feel his muscles, sore from fighting so much. He was finally beginning to look more like a man - A warrior - Not like some obnoxious, bratty, entitled casa nova. "I didn't know you could heal people. It tickles." he smirked slightly, turning his head to watch her focused face. "You don't know many things about me, Sukuna. Don't even bother trying, you'll never be able to, anyway." she scowled at him, but this time, it wasn't as aggressive as usual. "I've always loved a challenge, sugar." he chuckled boastfully, only for her to frown and look at him. "Is that all I am for you? A challenge?" she asked in a softer voice, sounding almost disappointed. "Not anymore. You've always been an enigma for me. You were fun, that's why I kept you around. If you weren't, I'd have killed you. I have no regrets about killing anyone, reason or not. But you got under my skin. I don't want to unveil the enigma behind you anymore. I just want to know you." carefully, his hands found their way on her hips, just before pulling her on his lap, only for her to stiffen up completely, her hands quickly taken off of his skin, as she quickly snapped her head away from him, her face covered by the long hair that resembled the blood he spilled on the battlefield. "Aww, are you shy, cutie~?" his seductive voice was back again, one of his hands reaching up to cup her face - But she couldn't bring herself to speak - Instead, she just gulped and jumped away from him, taking a few deep breaths before getting out of the room, and climbing up to the roof, hugging her legs to her chest, leaning her chin on her knees, her bottom lip bitten into to the point of drawing blood.

What the hell was she thinking, letting herself getting touched like that? By someone like Sukuna, nonetheless, who, if given the chance, would have his way with her, then toss her aside like he did with all the other women in his enormous harem. Her heart was beating so hard, so fast against her chest. It was a foreign feeling that scared her so much that for a long while, she couldn't help but avoid him once again, going out of her way to only leave her room when she was sure he wasn't there. It didn't always work out as she wished, but she still tried nonetheless, as succeeded for most of the time.

"Are you scared of me?" Sukuna asked the girl one night, when he found her softly shedding tears up on the roof. "...No." she offered a monotone answer. "Then why are you avoiding me again? Do you hate me?" he asked again, only for her to hang her head and hug herself. "I realised that I shouldn't be alive. All my life I've known only two emotions - Hatred and Rage - All of them masked by a facade of complete neutrality, passiveness and uncaring. But, now...I can feel my heart beating. And it hurts. I was so ready to throw away my life, and I knew I would have no regrets. I lived for nothing. I have no memories of anything good happening in my life. I thought that...I thought that maybe...I would be able to feel, staying here, with you. I wanted to feel something good, for once. What was that called...Happiness? Love? I wanted to feel those too. I guess it's too much to ask from this cruel life. The second you touched me, I started panicking and I got scared. I was afraid. Not of you, but of the idea of possibly getting hurt. I don't know how to feel, and I don't think I'll ever be able to be a proper being...But maybe...Someday...I will be able to look up at the same sky, at this very same moon, and the very same stars...And smile...And my chest won't be hurting anymore. And I won't be afraid anymore. Maybe, in the next life...Or the one after that...I will be lucky. Maybe times will change, and people won't be so cruel anymore. I'm sorry, Sukuna. I didn't end up being who and what you thought I'd be. I will forever be a disappointment to everyone I meet." she wasn't sure if her words were directed to anyone at all, or if she just found the courage to speak for the first time in her life - To acknowledge the existence of feelings altogether - But Sukuna understood her. Except for the thrill of the kill and fleeting quenched lust, he didn't feel any relief. Just like her, anger and hatred, for the entirety of his life. How different and similar the two of them really were, he realised, as he went to hug her from behind, resting his chin on top of her head. "You have never disappointed me, Kitsune. You cannot disappoint me. I understand what you're feeling. It's a cruel world, and we are much crueler to everyone around us, including ourselves. If you ever think you have it in your heart to accept me, I will be waiting. Forever, if needed. And if not, I will be awaiting in the next life. Or in the next one. I won't give up on you." and saying that, he planted a kiss on her temple before leaving her alone to watch the same silver moon they've been looking up at for so long. "...Thank you." she spoke to herself after who knows how long.

And she smiled.

Every day passing, she would look at the pink haired warrior, and every day, she'd want to throw herself in his arms, but every time, she'd start shaking, and she'd turn around and leave the place. This whole ordeal continued for well over three months, until one day, the palace was attacked with burning arrows, and the whole place was lit aflame.

In the mayhem in cause, the fox girl made sure to gather all the civilians in the huge estate and lead them to safety, and by the time she was done, she rushed to search for Sukuna, the person the enemies wanted to bring down, once and for all. However, by the time she found him, the whole place was ablaze, the once blooming garden was now turned into ashes, and the Demon God of War was heavily bleeding, slouched and leaning his back against a wall.

Opposite of him, many meters away, a menacing looking enemy who had spears in his hands was ready to throw them at him...And Sukuna merely smirked, defeated, and closed his eyes, awaiting for the impact of his ultimate death.

"Sukuna...Keep your eyes closed." Kitsune's low, shaking voice called out to him, but instead of doing as he was told, his eyes snapped open, only to widen in terror seeing the girl he grew to love, impaled by numerous spears, acting as a shield for him. "K...Kitsu...Ne...?!" he managed to usher after getting over his shock. "I told you...To keep you eyes closed...Idiot." she shook her head as she curled her fingers on the wall, taking a few deep breaths, despite her legs shaking. "Idiot. Idiot. You are such an idiot." "No...You...You were supposed to run away...I told you to run away...I told you...To...Live..." his voice was desperate, trembling, not believing what he was seeing before his very eyes. "Not without you...We were supposed to...Go...together...And be happy...And look at the moon...And stars...Together..." but as she said that, she heard the air getting split by yet another set of spears that go through her tails and torso, making her lose strength and fall over the man she was shielding. With her last strength, she punched back the spears out of her body and crawled on his lap, cradling his body, wrapping it up protectively with her tails, holding tightly onto him. "I never learnt how to fight...I never had anything to protect...Until I found you. I have no regrets dying, if you live. Close your eyes, Sukuna. I...I love you." and just before all strength left her body, she cupped his face and stole a weak kiss.

She was happy. She finally found her courage to act as she wished - With her heart, not with her fears. She was finally able to expel all the bad things possessing her. She died, and yet, she was finally smiling. She regretted nothing.

She was really happy.

"...Look there, Kitsune. Look at the moon. And the stars. And we are together. In this life. And the next one...And the one after...I will find you. And I will protect you. Don't be afraid anymore...Nothing will hurt you again. Until then...Sleep well, my Princess...Wait for me...Very soon."

---------

"Don't worry, Yuji! We will find all the victims of this place and rescue them! You'll see!" the cheerful nine-tailed girl wagged her fluff left and right as she dragged her best friend to the ominous place, as their other two team mates followed soon after, both having different reactions, as usual.

As her shikigami fox and Megumi's white wolf were assigned to make sure no cursed spirit would sneak up on them, they tried to make heads or tails of the distorted reality inside the place - They knew they may be dealing with a Special-Grade monster, but to have power of such magnitude seemed...Unreal...And unsettling.

"Guys, calm down. This is the Innate Domain...Cursed energy made this foul play...But I've never seen anything like...This. We have to move fast, and not split up, or we'll get picked one by one." Kitsune gritted her teeth, feeling the fur on her tails stand up. "Where's the door?!" Megumi yelled, turning around, only for everyone to gasp, realising the way they got through completely disappeared. "Th-The door's gone?!" Yuji blinked, incredulous at what he was witnessing. "How?! We just came in through here, didn't we?!" Nobara freaked out, only to make a short, brain dead dance with Yuji. "Calm down. The dog remembers the scent of the entrance." saying that, the two fawned over the two canines as they let them lead the way, only to find three mangled corpses, one of them having a name tag - It was the name of the child of the desperate woman outside of the place, pleading to the police to rescue him.

However, a fight erupted between the two boys who couldn't decide whether they should run away or rescue the corpses, as closure for the woman outside, at least, and while Nobara yelled at them, trying to make them stop...She...Disappeared?! Through a makeshift hole in the floor that wasn't there before.

"B-But...Megumi's demon dog and my fox should have been able to sense the curse...!" Kitsune then quickly turned around, only to gasp, noticing the bloody corpses of the said shikigami protruding from the walls. "NO! CYNDER!" she whimpered, hating to see her lovely companion in such a state. "ITADORI! KITSUNE! WE HAVE TO RUN! WE'LL LOOK FOR KUJISAKI AND -" but before he could finish speaking, Kitsune's whimper, that grew louder, along with the presence of the demon she was pointing at, staring straight at her...Made both boys stop in their tracks, wide eyed and shocked...And very much afraid.

The trio was sweating bullets, trying to move, trying to get the hell away from there - But Yuji moved first, taking out his knife, slashing at the Special-Grade....Only for his hand to go flying far away...From the impact.

"Megumi, run away! Go find Nobara, I'll stay here and create a diversion! Give us a signal when you're out of here! Yuji can get Sukuna and save us!" the fox girl yelled at her brunet friend desperately as she pushed him away, but a mouth on Yuji's cheek, speaking very derogatory, pointed out he doesn't give a fuck about Yuji's body, and that he won't die, even if his vessel does. "Nope~! Even if parts of me inside you die, I've still got 18 other fragments of my soul! Still, irritatingly enough, I don't have control of this body, so go away and switch, if you want! But once you do...I'll kill that brat before the cursed spirit can! Then, I'll go for that woman. She's a lively one. I'll have fuck with her. And then...I'll claim this cute fox girl that you care so much for!" Sukuna kept talking, and it was creating a state of panic in Yuji's heart. "Don't listen to him, Yuji! I know you won't let him take over you completely! You can't hurt us!" Kitsune yelled at her friend, trying to snap him out of the trance Sukuna put him in. "No, no, no, darling, you're wrong. If he's too focused on me, his friends WILL die~!" the demon kept laughing at his vessel, until the Special Grade unleashed a full blast of pure, cursed energy. "Yuji, look out!" she jumped at him, getting him out of the blast's range. "Stop listening to him, and take care of yourself! This isn't Jujutsu, this is pure cursed energy! We have to buy Megumi and Nobara enough time to get the hell out of here! Look at this jerk, he's having fun. I'm sure we can figure something out." the fox girl gritted her teeth in anger, but before either of them could try to attack or dodge - In the blink of an eye, really - She felt herself getting picked up and slammed on the wall before her by yet another blast of cursed energy - Followed by another, that flew her on the bridge in the next room, rendering her barely conscious. "KITSUNE! KITSUNEEEE!" she heard her pink haired friend's desperate wail as he tried to shake her awake. "...Sukuna...?" she asked, her shaking hands trying to rub away the tiredness from her eyes, as she looked up at him with gleaming, half-lidded eyes.

Before he could answer, shocked that she would call him by his demon's name, and even more, his own demon shocked, hearing her say something like that, she managed to cling onto the boy enough to get herself back on her feet, turning towards the attacker, her big, fluffy tails opening like a protective fan for the boy, as she created a blast of blue spirit fire to try to counter the cursed energy blast from the enemy. It made her growl from the pain, but her mind was blank - She had no regrets - No matter what life she was living, she will only get stronger and stronger, until she succeeds and protects the ones dear to her.

But not in this lifetime.

She wasn't strong enough yet. She was nowhere near her mentor, Satoru, in power. She had no way to compete with him, nor could she protect her friends when needed.

How pathethic.

It was her last thought before the cursed energy took over her, burning away some of her skin and creating even more damage after getting slammed and breaking yet another wall. With the last bit of consciousness she was able to hold onto, she saw her pink haired friend still alive and well - By some standards, at least - And she could merely smile and fight back the darkness threatening to take over.

But...Something happened, for the boy now seemed fearless - And he even taunted with the special-grade...And then he healed his own arm, before going to her, looking down at her, shaking his head. The markings on his face...This wasn't Yuji. This was...

"Idiot." a much darker, more masculine voice came from the body of the teenage vessel as he crouched down to the girl. "You never change, no matter what life you reincarnate into, do you? But that's the charm about you, stupid fox. You never really lose your memories of the past, do you?" he gently caressed her face, feeling his heart beating a bit faster as he noticed she was smiling and leaning into his touch. "You said you'll find me...So what is there to fear?" she mused weakly, before she got picked up bridal style, allowing her to cuddle into his chest, finally allowed to rest at ease. "Let's teach this weakling a lesson and get the hell out of here. The moon is up." Sukuna chuckled as he walked up to the demon, effortlessly punching in the head, slamming it into the bridge, only to smash his foot into its head, breaking the bridge altogether. As they fell, the monster grabbed his leg, but the fox-fire burn on his hand was enough to get his to shriek in pain and let go, as Sukuna jumped on one of the falling rubbles, taunting and laughing condescendingly, as he ripped apart the monster limb from limb before impaling it into a wall, as soon as they reached the watery ground. "Honestly, I'm jealous. I could never get to your power with jujutsu alone. Satoru said this thing is 80% born talent. How disheartening." she grumbled, feeling better already. "There's nothing cursed in your heart, sugar. Let the killing to me. I promised I'll protect you, I'm not going back on my word. I'm not going to see you die again." he threw her up a bit to get a better hold on her. "Hang onto me, foxy. Let's show this sucker how we do things." seeing his infamous smirk on his face, she threw her arms around his neck, holding on tightly, seeing as he did a hand seal, calling out his Malevolent Shrine...And they were back home, dressed the same as they were so long ago...A thousand years ago...And the monster got split in 5 slices, before Sukuna dug out another one of his soul-fingers, and he started grinning even laughing even darker, realising that Yuji couldn't switch bodies again, which made villain jump out of the facility, right on top of it. "I guess...No matter what life we live, the sky is going to be forever beautiful." Kitsune sighed as soon as he let her down, but she didn't let go of him. Not this time. Fears won't take over her life anymore. "And yours is even more eternal than the moon's or the stars." he cupped her face, taking in her beauty for the first time in over a thousand years. "It's been to long. I made you wait far too long. I hope you didn't miss me too much." one of his hands found its fingers raking through her hair, and she closed her eyes a bit, taking in the warm, loving feeling that completely took over her. "I'll forgive you. You did take your bloody time...But at least you're here now. And you're not going anywhere. I won't let you." her hands slid down to the neck of his blouse, pulling him to her level, which only made him smirk smugly. "Good. That was my intention." his charming, dark voice spoke, making her heart beating faster, and feeling the hair on the back of her neck and the fluff on her tails stand up from excitement. "Won't it be weird? Being Yuji's body...?" she asked shyly, as he only chuckled, pulling the same Malevolent Shrine trick, so they finally looked as they did when they first met. "Better, sweet cheeks?" he pulled her flushed to his body, as she got on her tippy toes to get closer to his face. "Spectacular."

As the fox girl couldn't stop touching his face, raking her fingers through his hair, feeling his body closer to hers as her whole body felt hotter than ever before - It was just a kiss - His lips so sweet against her own, his arms, so strong, holding her, feeling her, loving her.

It was only them, under the gentle light of the silver moon, guarding them, as the stars softly twinkled, embellishing gold into the dark sky - Just like this love light up the darkness in their hearts.

Her tails wrapped around him instinctively, as they pulled apart, and looked each other in the eyes for the first time since they've known each other. Her eyes were sparkling with happiness, her lips were curled into a kitten-like smile, and she was glowing - It made Sukuna's heart have a pleasant arrhythmia as he saw in front of his very eyes a sight that he's been dreaming about for over a millennium - The woman that captured his heart - Happy, in his own arms, safe, and very kissable.

This feeling and image were worth waiting a thousand years.

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Ch. 1

Shigaraki Birthday Week! MINORS DNI DO NOT PUT THIS ON TIKTOK

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, let me know if I’ve missed something

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: Tomura gets stuck taking an English class to graduate and is partnered with you, a bitchy try hard (his words not mine) for his final project. But over the course of the semester he finds that while he hates everyone, he might hate you just a little...less. 

AO3 mirror

The door at the back of the room creaked open and jarred Tomura from his half-sleep state. He didn’t look at who’d bothered to slip into this fucking class late, and instead tried to let the prof’s inane droning on Timothy Whoever The Fuck’s 18th weirdo letter book lull him into day dreaming. 

He only made it about a quarter of the way back into his boredom induced coma until he was dragged unwillingly into wakefulness once more. 

“Sorry, could you plug this in for me?” 

Tomura jumped again when you leaned over to whisper to him, computer charger in one hand, gesturing to the outlet on the wall by his head. You’d left the typical courtesy seat empty between the two of you and he stared blankly at the way you leaned your weight on the vacant chair. 

He recognized you.

The classic, dumbass teacher's pet who was always front and center of the room, iced drink at the ready looking like you belonged on the set of some god awful college b movie. 

Well, almost always. You certainly had that loud ass drink, but you’d tucked yourself at the end of his row towards the back of the room and was clearly a bit embarrassed for bursting in almost 15 minutes late. 

Tomura swallowed hard as your shirt gaped in the front. It took an immense amount of control to not gaze outright into the swell of your chest. 

“You good?” you asked softly, head cocked like you were straight out of a fucking manga panel—tits on display with that stupid innocent, puzzled expression.  

“Uh yeah, sorry,” Tomura mumbled. 

You offered him this gross, clearly fake smile—because why the hell would you be grinning like that if it wasn’t just because you wanted something from him—as he threaded the cord behind his chair and plugged it in. 

“Thanks,” you replied and turned back towards the professor, typing away cause you actually take notes in this class. 

Of fucking course you did. 

Probably trying to impress everyone with how you typed practically every word the prof said. Tomura decidedly did not take notes, and didn’t really pay that much attention in general. Usually he just played some trashy phone game under the desk or dozed with his head against the cement wall. 

It had gotten to that portion of the semester when it was warmer outside but the buildings still had the heat cranked all the way up, especially here in the basement where the classroom was. That environment along with his usual hoodie/joggers combo created grade A napping conditions that Tomura took full advantage of. 

As a rule, he actually cared about school and he did relatively well. But this was just some dumbass liberal arts requirement course that had nothing to do with his actual major, so he was perfectly fine with coasting. Why his comp sci degree required him to take a fucking Restoration era English class, he had no clue. Apparently neither did his advisor other than that the ‘administration recommended it’ so their students would have a ‘well rounded learning experience.’ 

It was almost certainly just a cash grab to make him take more credits than was necessary to graduate, but whatever. He was here now. And so were you. Your presence was overwhelmingly clear, typing away and smelling like one of those insanely specific laundry detergent label scents—fucking rolling meadows and grandmother’s clean linen or something like that. 

He’d never sat this close to you before, but that didn’t stop you from annoying the shit out of him for the previous whole half semester and going since it was just now passing midterms. Long enough for him to have pegged you as a textbook try-hard, pick-me bitch. You contributed to discussion at every opportunity, turned in shit early, and debated other classmates regularly enough to disrupt his in-course sleep schedule. 

The way you dressed pissed him off too, with a particular style that was enough to stand out but not so over the top that it would cause disinterest from any potential mates.

And now you were filling his corner of the room with the overpowering smell of freshly washed hair and demanding he do things for you. 

Fucking disgusting. 

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

He jumped a third time, attention directed from his lap to the front of the room where the prof stood, listing out names from the board. He heard your name next followed by Kai Chisaki. The list was projected on the board as well, grouping everyone into twos or threes with “Final Project Partners” listed in bold Helvetica font at the top. 

Only fucking English profs used Helvetica. 

He vaguely remembered mentions of a final presentation—one of like three grades in this class cause the prof was almost certainly a sadist. 

No, not almost—definitely. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stuck him with you and that weirdo Kai pre-med student who insisted on acting so elitist you’d think he already had his fucking M.D. 

One time he asked Tomura to move seats at the start of the semester because he looked “dirty” and Kai liked to sit in the back—which, fair enough, it wasn’t like Tomura showered as frequently as he probably should but what the fuck??�� 

With you rushing in late, chest out and panting every now and again from your apparent sprint across campus, Tomura was certain he’d be subjected to a whole 6 weeks of watching you try to mount that fucking Kai dude instead of actually working. 

This was going to be a nightmare. 

From the end of the table, he saw you shifting and turned to find that stupid fucking smile flashed his way once again. 

If you had a tail, he’d bet it would be wagging. 

“Hey, well that’s convenient,” you chuckled and plopped down directly next to him, sliding your noisy ass drink across the table with you and brushing against his thigh when you shifted your bag to the side. 

“Yeah,” he nodded.

It most certainly was not. 

But Tomura would never say that because—as his roommate put it so kindly—he was kinda a pussy. 

People made him nervous, they always had. That’s why he liked computers so much. Code made sense, there were clear rules and when something didn’t work out, he could fix it eventually, but you couldn’t see people’s codes. You had to fucking guess at shit and it made his anxiety skyrocket which the sides of his neck and finger tips suffered for. 

So he cowered like the fucking dog you probably thought he was instead and kept his eyes on the floor, letting you set up in silence. 

“Who was our third?” you asked, glancing around the room. “Sorry, I was busy making a shared drive and I came in  late so I missed that last bit.”

Why the hell did you feel the need to apologize all the goddamn time? Seriously, who would believe you were actually sorry for being irritating as hell. 

And god if he thought you were irritating. 

“Kai,” he grumbled simply as the man in question sauntered over to the table and fucking Clorox wiped down the seat before sitting.  

Tomura watched your smile falter just a bit and grinned inwardly at the slip in your fake little persona. But you didn’t say anything more, just moved your chair back so the three of you were in a semi-circle and pulled up a few pdfs on your laptop. 

“Cool, so I was looking over the directions on the syllabus last week and I set up a little work delegation thing so we can distribute everything pretty evenly,” you jumped right in, tone matter of fact in the down-to-business manner he was used to hearing from you during class discussions. 

It was better than you so clearly forcing yourself to be overly polite, and he honestly couldn’t really care less if you wanted to take charge of this thing. You seemed kinda bossy, but he begrudgingly admitted that your suck up behavior did mean you sort of knew what you were talking about. He was just here to pass and you might actually make that a lot easier. 

It was okay as long as he was taking advantage of you, he told himself. And you would be too stupid to notice, so he could play your game and play pretend nice all the way to an A. 

That walking condescension on the other hand— 

“I’m not doing that,” Kai huffed through his ever-present mask. 

Tomura wasn’t actually sure he’d ever seen the bastards face without it. 

“What?” you laughed awkwardly. “Yes you are, you don’t really have much of a choice.” 

You stared at your classmate who simply stared right back with his own, equally confused expression. 

“Why do you look so surprised?” you asked after a moment of silence. 

You weren’t smiling anymore and your voice had dropped down about a fucking octave. At least you sounded more like a person and not some wannabe uwu gamer bitch.

“People don’t talk to me like that,” Kai looked at you down his nose, legs spread wide and elbow resting on his knees. 

Tomura could feel the pretentiousness wafting from him in waves, and waited with bated breath for you to get kicked off your pedestal. Just a bit though, he did need you around to do most of his work for this thing. 

But in a shocking turn of events, you just laughed dryly twice and turned back to your laptop screen, mumbling as you did. 

“Really? Well they should.” 

Tomura would have laughed too, but he didn’t feel like inflating your ego. Kai on the other hand looked a bit like you’d just spit on shoes and furrowed those stupid, plucked thin eyebrows at the back of your head. 

“So Tomura, you code right?” you asked, turning away from Kai completely to address him. “I just remember you saying you were in comp sci when we did introductions.” 

He was taken aback by the knowledge that he existed as a person in your head outside of this room for a moment and simply nodded—suddenly feeling far too hot in his black on black sweats and hoodie. 

God just talking to you made his skin burn. 

“Great, cause we’re allowed to chose the medium we present in and I was thinking of taking it in a more creative direction cause I’ve had this prof before and he eats that shit up,” you begin to ramble again, scrolling through a bulleted list, shifting the screen for him to see. 

“Right,” he murmured, still surprised you’d thought this far and not...actively hating what you’d brainstormed. 

Well, it was a bit juvenile and you clearly didn’t know what you were talking about but the concept wasn’t horrendous. He could work with that and it shouldn’t be too hard. It kinda seemed like you’d overestimated a bit with how challenging it would actually be and saddled yourself with most of the heavy lifting. That or you were just a control freak which was a little more believable.

He wished you would stop looking at him over the edge of the screen. He could feel himself starting to sweat. Rivulets falling down the nape of his neck and racing across his bare chest under the sweatshirt. Tomura sorta regretted not wearing a shirt underneath but he knew that he wouldn’t have taken off the insulating layer even if that had been an option. 

It would just mean you had more drying, pale as fuck skin to look at and judge him for because he knew that’s what you were doing. Fucking vapid and shallow like everyone else. 

“It’s really rough so far, but I have it the gist outlined,” you indicated to another tab and then turned back to Kai who had been sitting silently glaring daggers into your back. “So, Kai, since you’re in STEM I figured you’d be okay with doing more of the preliminary research—”

“I don’t think so,” Kai interrupted, shaking his head and pushing off his knees to lean back in the cheap, plastic seat. “Look, it’ll be easier for all of us if you two just make it look pretty and I can handle the oral presentation.” 

You gaped and looked to Tomura with this pathetic fucking incredulous stare, like you thought he’d back you up. 

Which actually, now that he thought about it was probably a good idea—he did need you to remain somewhat cordial with him—but he certainly didn’t care enough to defend you in any way. Kai was a dick, sure, but he wasn’t gonna let you rope him into being your white knight or whatever. 

He settled for a similarly disgruntled downward twitch of his lips. The movement pulled at the cracking skin which stung as it tore open even more. Tomura felt the familiar crawling feeling on his neck and shifted in his seat to resist the urge to scratch. 

He couldn’t pinpoint why exactly you staring at him was so uncomfortable. He didn’t like you, he didn’t care about you and by extension didn’t give two shits what you thought of him, but anything he might have said shriveled on his tongue when you spoke or looked in his eyes too long. 

Tomura had never made a habit of talking to females and they certainly had never wanted anything to do with him either. 

Maybe he was fucking allergic or something. 

Whatever the case, you seemed to take his half frown as a sign of solidarity and leaned back in your own seat. 

“Okay, look,” you retorted. “If you’re seriously not gonna at least try to cooperate, then there is actually an option to do the project by yourself and I suggest you take it.” 

The look on your face was distinctly impolite. There was a sharpness to the set of your jaw that Tomura had never seen before, but it looked practiced enough that he could bet it was simply the snake that resided in every woman just waiting to come out. 

“Look sweetheart—” that masked jerk began, also for some fucking reason looking to Tomura for support. 

For someone who was very much used to blending into the background scenery, this was the most eye contact Tomura had ever made in a day. 

Except on the rare occasions his roommate had friends over and he had to make the dreaded trek from his room to reach the fridge. 

“Oh yeah I’m not doing that,” you closed your laptop sharply and rolled your eyes. “I get it, but I’m really just trying to graduate. I don’t think this is going to work out and you,” Tomura froze as you shifted your gaze to him once again, “seem okay, so Tomura and I can just work this out by ourselves and you can find a different group.” 

Kai scoffed behind the black layer of fabric covering his mouth and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Whatever.” 

Tomura watched him saunter straight out the door as the room was filled with the shuffling of notebooks and zipping of backpacks. 

“God,” you huffed and turned back to him. 

His raw skin burned under the new wave of heat and accompanying moisture that slicked his skin when you scooted closer to him. That clean laundry and shampoo smell was suffocating from this proximity. 

Did you fucking bathe in the stuff? 

He was becoming increasingly aware of his less than pleasant aroma and the fact that you not scrunching your nose up in disgust just out of some stupid, ingrained need to appease him. 

“Well, that was...weird,” you chuckled in a way that was probably meant to break the tension. 

Unfortunately Tomura felt more like he was about to break out in hives if you came any closer so it really just ended up making the atmosphere ten times more awkward. At least for him. You, somehow, remained resolutely unaware. 

“Mhm,” he hummed in response and picked silently at the skin of his fingers. 

“Anyway, I have a meeting in a few but we can trade numbers and pick a time to meet up sometime tomorrow maybe?” you suggested, quickly saving the steadily degrading vibes of the conversation and pulled out your phone. 

He really hated the full body pulsation that rushed through him at the thought of getting a girls number. It made him fucking sick at himself for falling into your stupid trap to get him interested. Was your plan to just use him to get a good grade or whatever and then block his texts?

It wasn’t like Tomura didn’t know about his status as the class ‘freak.’ That one guy everyone whispers about and makes sure not to sit next to. And he knows you know, so why the hell else would you act so nice?

He wanted to say something scathing in return. That he could do the whole thing by himself too—which he definitely couldn’t but that was irrelevant—and that he didn’t need you bossing him around either. 

“Sure thing,” he said instead and took your offered phone all too eagerly, typing in his number and watching as you shot off a text back so he’d have yours. 

His phone buzzed against his thigh and he jumped a fourth time, but you seemed not to notice as you packed your bag and grabbed your basic ass drink. The ice clattered against the tumbler, dropping cool condensation against the searing skin of his hand. 

Tomura shivered as you waved over your shoulder and slipped out the door with another rush of students. 

He sat silently in the empty room for a moment, trying to process the last hour. He pinched himself idly, wondering if it had all been just a weird dream, but the results were inconclusive. A minute or two passed before he pulled out his phone to scroll through the list of reddit and discord notifs to find your text. 

Unknown Number:

— pEopLe DoN’t TaLK tO mE liKE ThAt 

— not very plus ultra of him...smh

— anyway, library at 6 tomorrow ?

 Tomura caved, digging his nails into the side of his neck and hissed at the pain, confirming the day's horrible reality. 

[streetlight11]

The Hybrid

Summary: She was just on her way back home when she met a little kitty desperately seeking for shelter under the heavy rain. She decides to bring it home, not realizing that she brought home a hybrid who could shapeshift into a cute, young boy.

Theme: hybrid au, strangers to lovers

Genre: fluffy

Warnings: a smidge of male nudity

WC: 1.7k

Pairing: Hybrid!Jeongin x Fem!Reader

a/n: Here's a very short fic of hybrid Jeonginie! :))) Also, Hyunjinie's baaaaack 🥺🍀❤️

Being a part time university student and a full time worker is definitely not the easiest thing in the world but with enough motivation and perseverance, one is able to go through the difficult time if they keep their mind set and strong. With that being said, Y/N keeps this in mind whenever she feels tired or overworked.

Today was no different as she ended her night class and was just heading back home. She had just boarded off the bus and was walking towards her apartment building that was four blocks down when it started to rain heavily without a warning.

People started running for shelter and so did she. After she managed to hide herself under the roof of a closed tattoo parlour, she heard soft meows coming from somewhere.

She looked around, only to see a box that was drenched wet and was probably about to collapse anytime soon.

Suddenly, she saw a small head popping out for a second only to disappear back inside the box.

For some reason, she wanted to save the poor kitty as she left the shelter only to be drenched again in the rain. She carefully approached the box, only to see a beautiful light brown cat soaked in the rain just shivering under the box.

“Oh no, you poor baby…” She whispered as she reached out to pet the cat but instead it bit her wrist and hissed sharply at her.

She let out a soft wince but never pulled her hand away too quickly, causing the cat to stare at her with narrowed eyes, obviously not trusting her at that current moment.

“It’s okay little one, I’m gonna take care of you. It’s too cold out here isn’t it?” She asked as the cat hissed again.

Just then, a small smile appeared on her lips as she told the cat not to go anywhere as she quickly left to go to the small pet store down the road to get some canned cat food for it.

The kitty watched intently as Y/N looked left and right before running across the road. She came back about 5 minutes later with a plastic bag filled with a variety of cat food. She was happy to see the cat still there as it meowed at her when she came squatting back down in front of the box.

“Do you still not trust me?” She asked as she reached out carefully to put her hand in front of the cat’s face. The rain wasn’t heavy anymore but it hasn’t stopped either. The cat hissed at her again but it didn’t sound like the one before.

She left her hand there as she waited to see if the cat would finally give in to her.

It took the cat at least 3 minutes to slowly sniff her palm and fingers, and when it could sense that she meant no harm, it carefully pushed its nose against her cold palms. Y/N giggled as she gently scratched the cat’s cheek, making it purr in her hand.

“Come on, let’s get you a proper shelter.” She said as she kept the food in her bag, before she reached down to pull the cat out, only for it to leap into her arms.

She smiled as she soon carried it back to her apartment.

Once inside, she placed the cat down on the ground only to see it carefully scan her house. She giggled as she began to walk towards her kitchen, only for it to jump when she walked past it.

“Make yourself at home but please don’t poop or pee everywhere. I’m already tired from work and school.” She warns as the cat only meows as a response.

She kept the cat food in her cabinet, leaving one can out as she took two plastic bowls to put it’s food and water in it. After she was done, she placed it on the floor right at the edge of the hallway nearest to the living room.

“Come here.” She called as the cat came jogging down the hall.

It devoured the food and water in less than 10 minutes as Y/N had quickly changed out of her wet clothes and into a cozy oversized hoodie. After the cat was done having it’s dinner, she had a towel in her lap as the cat jumped into it after she called it.

She was just wiping the cat dry when she began to brainstorm ideas for a name.

“Since you’re mine now, what should I call you?” The cat began to purr as she thought of names.

“How about coco?”

The cat’s lips curled in disgust, making her laugh.

“Cookie?”

Nope.

“Brownie?”

Nope.

“Mocha?”

No.

Y/N sighed as she ran out of ideas. Just then, she figured to just settle with something easy for now since it wasn’t really a big issue to have names for a pet.

“You know what? I’ll just call you baby for now okay?” With that, the cat meowed as it nuzzled its head into her hand, making her stroke its fur softly. Without realizing, it has already been 4 months since she took in the beautiful brown kitty, in which she found out that it's a male.

However, during the past 4 months, she found it weird that sometimes her chores would be done and that her house would always be spick and span whenever she came home. But she never really figured out who did it.

It was a Saturday evening, she was just laying on her couch with her kitty on her tummy as she pats his head softly when it suddenly purred while nuzzling its head on her tummy. She giggled as she pulled it up only to meet her face.

“Give me kisses baby…” She said as it licked her nose and soon her lips. Her soft giggles made the kitty purr as it nuzzled it’s head into her neck.

A few days later, Y/N felt a really nice warmth engulfing her from behind. She unconsciously snuggled deeper against the source as she then felt arms squeezing their hold around her waist, causing her to finally come back to reality.

She frowned and got confused. Since when did she have a boyfriend?

She slowly glanced over her shoulder, only to see a handsome guy laying behind her, and he was… shirtless?

With that being said, she leaped out of bed with a short little scream.

It stirred him awake as she glanced down, only to accidentally see him in his pure naked form when the covers got pulled off his body. She squeaked in shock as she covered her eyes as she pointed an accusing finger at him.

“Wh-What! How! W-Who are you?! Why are you naked and in my bed?!” She peeked through her fingers only to see him still uncovered but he was slowly growing conscious.

“I’m your baby.” He said with a sleepy smile as he pulled the covers over his legs to rest it over his hip.

“You have got to be kidding me. I don’t have a boyfriend!”

“Not boyfriend, dummy. I’m your cat.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, unable to believe his words. Though she was pretty sure she saw a tail gently swaying behind his form and the cute furry ears on top of his head, she thought she was imagining things.

“You’re a weirdo. Get out.” She frowned as she pointed to her bedroom door, only for him to smirk.

“Why? Afraid to accept the fact that your kitty is a very good looking guy?” He asked as he got out of bed, only for her to squeak when he stood there naked, covering her eyes again before he stopped right in front of her.

She carefully pulled her hand away only to see him smile down at her, the corner of his lips tugging upwards sharply just like how a cat smiles.

He soon licked the tip of her nose, making her jump.

“Scratch behind my ear.”

“Why?”

Just do it.”

With hesitant hands, she reached up, only to scratch behind his ear causing him to purr as his tail moved in a soft fluid motion from left to right.

Just then, his hands rested on her waist only for him to start kneading her flesh. He always did this in his cat form so for him to do this to her now, it made her feel something weird pooling in her stomach.

“The name’s Jeongin by the way.” He whispered as her eyes darted up to him, only to see the smirk on his face.

With that, she pulled away from him only to find a men's sweatpants in her closet. He slipped the pants on and soon, he wrapped his arms around her waist only for him to speak up against the skin of her shoulder.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, making her blush in embarrassment.

“W-What?!"

“Ever since the night you took me in, I’ve been wanting to thank you for saving me but I didn’t know how so-”

“Is that why you’ve been licking my lips all these while?” She asked, only for him to nod bashfully.

Y/N could feel her cheeks heat up as he smiled, pulling away from her as he walked around to face her with a little pout on his face. She stared at him in disbelief as he licked the tip of her nose again but it was more like a little lick instead of a long strip.

She sighed as she found his eyes and soon spoke up.

“Fine, but just that. Nothing else, understood?” She warned, only for him to nod like a little boy.

With that, a bright smile appeared on his face as he cupped her face on both sides and soon kissed her passionately. She found herself melting against his lips as she couldn’t deny that he was such a good kisser.

Jeongin pulled away only to let his lips linger on top of hers as he whispered.

“Thank you for saving me Y/N.”

“You're welcome Jeongin.”

She proceeded to smile as she dragged him to bed only to force him back to sleep as they slept in each other’s arms. Never did she think this day would come where she finds out that the stray cat she rescued turns out to be a hybrid who was gorgeous in his human form.

~~~

[minor-solemnity]

Invention and Intrigue pt.4

Tag List: @jinxqsu​ @naps-and-lemons​ @riddles-wifey​ @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute

You look at him and see raw, unfiltered ambition, power and intellect combining to create a formidable young man who won’t be satisfied until the world is remade in his vision. You also see the way he looks at you, as though you are something precious and fierce and delicate and dangerous in your own right. He isn’t afraid of violence, you think he might enjoy it, but when he touches you, he’s gentle and careful. Protective and maybe a touch possessive. 

You still spend a lot of your evenings with Tom. The only difference being that he touches you more often seems to reach for you without conscious thought or effort. You’ll be sit side by side and his fingers will tap rhythmically on your upturned palm. He’ll kiss your cheek after he’s walked you back to your common room and when he leaves, he’ll pause before letting your hand drop from his, as though he has to consciously remind himself to let you go. For someone who so rarely displays joy in physical proximity in public, he is surprisingly demanding behind closed doors. You’re charmed. 

In public, you both keep your distance. You smile at him politely in the halls and he nods in acknowledgement in return. You like it this way. It makes the moments when his guards drop that much more satisfying, and honestly, you’re not sure you’d be able to stand Melanie’s excited gushing if she were to find out that you were dating. 

There’s also the matter of his Slytherin cohort. 

If you were a more idealistic person, you would probably be annoyed by the fact that he keeps his distance. You would probably question what you are to him. If he viewed you as something fun to pass the time with, but not good enough to be seen in public with. You’re not an idiot, no matter how much you might act like it sometimes; you know that your blood plays a large role in why he is so keen to keep your budding relationship a secret. 

But you aren’t a more idealistic person and therefore you understand perfectly that his friends (though really, you’re not sure if you can call the boys he spends time with his friends) would likely abandon him if they knew about you. You’re honestly not sure how Tom even managed to build such a loyal following in the first place. You’ve not spoken about it, but you’re aware that Riddle isn’t a pureblood surname.

And so you spend two glorious months sheltering your relationship from the world, wrapped safely in your shared love of magic and the possibilities it holds and, more often than not, the green blanket that Tom had gifted you. 

It’s on one of these nights in early summer, when the sun has only just started to set, and you’re making the most of the warmer weather that it all goes horribly wrong. 

Tom leaves you in the entrance hall because he is Head Boy and apparently that means he has responsibilities that don’t include walking you back to your common room. You’re halfway up the steps to the first floor when the stunning jinx hits you. Distantly you hear footsteps and then there is a shadow looming over you and a familiar loud cackle ringing in your ears before everything fades to darkness.

You come to in a classroom you vaguely recognise as the one that Tom had taken you to when you’d kissed for the first time. You spare a moment to appreciate with grim irony that you weren’t wrong in your prediction that going into the dungeons would lead to (a probably very painful) death. Lestrange stands in front of you and your heart starts hammering when you see he’s holding your wand loosely in one hand whilst his own is pointed directly at your chest. You glance at the door behind him, wondering briefly if you try and make a run for it, but Lestrange is bigger, stronger and faster than you and without your wand, you are more or less helpless against him. “People like you contaminate everything,” He spits. You know exactly what he’s talking about. He must have seen you with Tom, must have realised what you were to him. By the looks of it, he isn’t best pleased. In fact, his aristocratic features practically distort themselves under the weight of his disgust.

Lestrange raises his wand and you are preparing yourself to welcome death with open arms when the door slams open. Tom is a rigid pillar of anger. There’s absolutely nothing behind his eyes and whilst he isn’t the most expressive person under normal circumstances, it’s nothing compared to the blank, cold rage that you see in him now. In front of you, Lestrange stills, something flashes in his eyes that you think might be fear before it fades. “Stay out of this, Riddle, if you know what’s good for you,” He says, and he’s angry, yes, disdainful and haughty, but you don’t miss the slight hesitation in his voice.

Tom doesn’t either because the mirror that is his expression cracks and a slow, cruel smile twists his upper lip. He looks terrifying and you’ve never been more grateful to see him. “Put your wand down,” He says, and it’s soft, cajoling, completely at odds with the predatory gleam in his eyes. “Put your wand down and look at me.” 

And the thing is, Lestrange does. If you were unconvinced of the sway that Tom holds over his peers before, you aren’t any longer. You think that they would walk through fiendfyre if he ordered them to. Tom doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move a muscle. He isn’t even holding his wand and a thought begins to form in your mind that he might just tell Lestrange to leave. You hope he doesn’t. You don’t care if it’s cruel of you, but you want him to suffer. 

Lestrange makes a strange choking noise, and it takes you a moment to realise that he’s trying to suppress a sob. For a moment, you wonder how Tom is managing it without his wand but then you remember the book he’d been reading months ago and your wonder morphs into shock and then awe. Legilimency. 

With his back turned to you, you can’t see what’s playing across his features, but his hands are shaking and your wand clatters to the ground. Seeing the opportunity for what it is, you dart forward and scoop it up, immediately feeling safer and less afraid. Tom motions for you to join him, and for the first time since he appeared something resembling human emotion flashes across his face. As soon you’re close, he wraps an arm around you and presses his mouth against the top of your head in a vague approximation of a kiss. From where you’re now standing, you can see Lestrange’s expression all too clearly. His features are no longer distorted in disgust but rather in anguish. Eyes wide and unseeing, he shakes in front of you, any sense of superiority reduced to ash.

“Leave.” A single word. An order, a command and Lestrange is scrambling out of the room. It’s only when you can no longer hear his footsteps that your breath hitches and you begin to shake. You’re not sure how long you stand there, face buried in the folds of Tom’s robes, his hands rubbing gentle, comforting circles against your back, but finally, you begin to calm down enough to disentangle yourself from him. He leads you back out of the dungeons and towards safety.

When you get to the entrance hall, Tom turns and offers you his hand. “Walk with me.” His eyes are still hard, as though he still hasn’t shaken the cold contempt he’d exhibited earlier. 

He must see the trepidation play out across your face because his expression softens marginally, dark eyes searching yours almost imploringly. Slowly, tentatively, you reach out and curl your much smaller hand in his. The dry warmth of his skin seeps through you, calming you in a way that you’re not sure is entirely advisable. 

Six months ago, you had thought of Tom Riddle as an enigmatic, child prodigy. The finest wizard to step through the gates at Hogwarts since Albus Dumbledore himself. A portrait of politeness and charm. Now you look at him and see raw, unfiltered ambition, power and intellect combining to create a formidable young man who won’t be satisfied until the world is remade in his vision. You also see the way he looks at you, as though you are something precious and fierce and delicate and dangerous in your own right. He isn’t afraid of violence, you think he might enjoy it, but when he touches you, he’s gentle and careful. Protective and maybe a touch possessive. 

It’s an intimidating thought, to say the least. To feel safe and assured in his presence is probably akin to self-destruction, but here you are: walking, hand in hand, through the rose garden. 

“You know, I thought I had a good idea of what my future would look like,” He murmurs, running his thumb across the back of your hand. You hum noncommittally because your suspicion that his interest in the darker aspects of magic isn’t entirely academic is now confirmed. He has plans for his future, and now, you suppose, he has plans for yours too. “I think that the future might look very different from now on.”

“How so?” 

“I’ve decided to take Slughorn’s advice and go into politics.” The words themselves don’t surprise you. Tom’s ambition, his intelligence, his ruthlessness all spell the beginnings of a lucrative career in politics. What surprises you is the fact that this wasn’t his original plan. But then you think about how you even came to know him and what drew you to each other in the first place and you begin to understand that Tom’s plans likely never constituted anything you could call legal. “When I first came to Hogwarts, I knew immediately that if I wanted to get anywhere in this world, I would have to ingratiate myself with the old families. They’re the ones who hold the real political power in this society. They’re the ones who have the final say on what legislature passes and what fails before it even reaches the Wizengamot. I’ve worked hard to… cultivate a loyal following, purebloods who will carry out my will without complaint.”

That still leaves you though. You’re not so modest that you’re unaware that you are, at least, a factor in Tom’s change of heart but that still doesn’t erase the unspoken issue that Lestrange’s actions had dragged into the light. “They might complain if you were to be seen with me, Tom. They will complain.” You sigh and regret for a future that has not yet come pass fills you. You can see it now, Tom, as Minister for Magic (because you cannot imagine that he would settle for less) with a beautiful pureblood wife to give him credibility in the eyes of a traditionalist society. “As you said, they’re the ones with the real power.”

“You misunderstand me.” He says and he leads you to a bench where you both sit. He turns his body towards you, sitting so close that your knees knock against his. He doesn’t let go of your hand, instead, he interlaces your fingers, holds it against his chest. You don’t want to hope that maybe this isn’t the end like it surely must be, but you find yourself hoping nonetheless. “They’re weak,” He says plainly. “They’re weak and they’re frightened. Lestrange attacked you from behind and stole your wand because he is afraid of you. I would burn their entire world to the ground for you.” He pauses and then smiles, slightly sinister, slightly cruel, entirely lovely. “As it stands, I merely intend to irrevocably change it. They will follow if they know what’s good for them.” 

Melanie says that you’re dramatic, but you don’t think you hold a candle to Tom. Conviction and sincerity blaze across his face and you can’t look away. You pull the hand which is still wrapped tightly around yours to you and kiss his knuckles. “I'll be with you every step of the way.”

END

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

A/N: Tom becomes minister for magic - his political enemies always seem to mysteriously disappear or otherwise change their minds. Reader makes sure that no one can prove anything tho. The Statute of Secrecy is dismantled and integration is in baybee. 

[imherongraystairstrash]

I’ve been thinking about this for a while, do you think Charles,Barbara, Eugenia and Anna were close? Anna maybe less because she’s closer in age to the merry thieves set and she probably ghosted Charles after the Ariadne engagement. Would you consider a fic of them all growing up, starting with them 4 as little kids and then slowly becoming teens and adults and then dealing with Barbara’s death. I think it would be a fun idea since nobody ever considers them to be a older merry thieves.

You can thank my social anxiety for this one bc I stress wrote it in school 🙃

TW: panic attacks, death

Title: When we were young

Characters: Barbara Lightwood, Anna Lightwood, Eugenia Lightwood, Cecily Lightwood, Gabriel Lightwood, Alexander Lightwood, Sophie Lightwood, Gideon Lightwood

Anna was sitting by the fire when Charles came into the room. She hated him. She truly did. But, somehow, at that moment, she felt strange. He looked at her and it took her many years back, to when they weren’t exactly friends, but  they were far from what they are now to each other.

…

“And that was how Consul Wentworth fixed the crisis of 1687.” Charles said with a satisfied smile to himself.

The Lightwood girls were his audience. Well, sort of. Eugenia’s cheek was resting on her fist, squishing the right side of her face as her lidded eyes approached shutting completely. Anna was slumped against Eugenia, her lips pressed together tightly and her eyes opened wide, staring at a fixed spot on the floor. Their luminous dark blue glittered in the witchlight, looking exquisitely uncanny. Barbara was mid-yawn, leaning on the leg of a sofa.

“Wow, Charles. Thanks for the history lesson.” Eugenia said, monotonously. It was evident that she’d inherited her mother’s sass from the day she was born, when Barbara had woken her up by exclaiming at the sight of her newborn sister, and Genie responded by pulling her sister’s hair.

“Oh, and in 1690-“

“NO!” All three Lightwood daughters shrieked.

“I’m still not done, though.” Said Charles.

“Yes, you are.” Eugenia said, standing up and settling the matter. “We are positively bored. There is absolutely nothing to do except listen to Charles talk about politics, and if those are the only two options, frankly, I’d rather be bored.” 

Charles crossed his arms. “Being an intellect is not boring.”

Little two year old Anna looked at him with one eyebrow raised. 

“I swear, Thomas is having a better time than we are,” Eugenia said glaring at to where their parents were, with the tiny, almost invisible baby nestled in Gideon’s arms, his fingers wrapped around Sophie's thumb. The parents were all laughing about something, which made Eugenia scowl even more. 

“To be an adult.” Barbara said, with a martyred sigh. 

“We needn’t be adults to have fun.” Charles said.

“I suppose you’re going to torture us with more political trivia.” 

“No,” Charles said. “I was going to suggest we go through the attic.” 

The girls looked up at this and Charles smirked, clearly proud of himself at having come up with a good idea. For once. 

“What is in the attic?” 

Charles shrugged. “I don’t know, but there’s probably strange and obscure things. There’s a lot of that kind of stuff in our house.” 

Barbara and Eugenia exchanged a look before the eldest Lightwood sister turned to him. 

“We shall go and discover this mysterious attic you speak of.”

…

“What could this even be?” Barbara said, holding up a loose gear-like contraption. 

“Papa sometimes builds things out of clockwork.” Charles said, sitting cross legged. “Or, he used to at least.” 

 “That’s…” 

Genie and Charles looked at Barbara as she trailed off.

“Nevermind, I have no comment.”

Charles nodded as though that was a common reaction people had in terms of his father’s experiments. 

They rummaged through boxes upon boxes, finding momentos they didn’t understand such as papers upon papers of things that said many difficult words. They could distinguish a couple of words such as “infernal” and “devices”, however there were many that made no sense to them.

“What is a Mortmain?” Asked Genie.

“I think it’s an undead horse or something along those lines,” said Charles.

“Oh,” said Eugenia. “That’s disgusting.”

“Quite,” agreed Barbara.

Anna was toddling around the room, giggling. She almost tripped over a loose floorboard, and would have, had Charles not reached out and grabbed a hold of the back of her dress. 

“This is too dangerous for a small child like Anna,” Barbara said, ever the mother-goose. “I shall take her downstairs before she hurts herself.” 

Anna protested at first, but acquiesced once Barbara bribed her with the promise of dessert.

…

“What are you doing here?” Anna asked.

He looked up, his green eyes meeting her blue ones. 

…

Charles remembered that day like it was just yesterday. 

He and Eugenia had stayed behind rifling through boxes, which wasn’t unwelcome, as Eugenia and Charles had an easy, lighthearted and, at times, profound, friendship. Despite their age gap, they enjoyed each other’s company, though neither could say why. Perhaps, it was simply because they mocked each other. Or perhaps, it was sometimes they would occasionally talk about things such as philosophy, and whether what they were seeing was true, or the world was just a figment of their imaginations. Or a mixture of the two; they’d never really discussed it. 

Eugenia surprised him when she said, “do you ever feel… different from your parents?” 

Charles furrowed his brows, “in what aspect?”

“Love.” 

“Have you a suitor?” Charles inquired, intrigued.

“No. Actually, that was my question. I find that, sometimes, I don’t only enjoy the idea of a male suitor, but perhaps, I also enjoy the company of a woman. Perhaps.” She pressed her lips together tightly, as if forcing herself to stop speaking.

Charles looked at her, his bright green eyes wide. “I-um-…”

“But I’m not sure, of course.” Eugenia blurted out. “It’s not as if shadowhunters are precisely fond of that particular preference or-“

“Do you really think they wouldn’t like it?” Charles asked, softly. “Do you believe they will reject those who are like that?” 

Eugenia looked down. “I’m afraid I’m most sure of it.”

Charles had then realized that he couldn’t have both. There was no way around it. 

He knew his parents were happy and that love made them complete. However, they didn’t have to choose. They could be married and the idea wouldn’t affect their respective occupations. Charles, on the other hand, couldn’t be Consul and have the kind of love he wanted. He almost resented them because of it. They were able to do what they loved and nobody forced them to pick between one or the other. 

It was unfair. So incredibly unfair.

“I guess you better get rid of your feelings towards women than.” He said simply, “unless you’re willing to let something as simple as love get in the way of your dreams.”

“Dreams?” Eugenia asked, looking confused and a tiny bit hurt. 

 But Charles got up to go back downstairs to his parents, aunts and uncles.

… 

Charles slumped down in a chair and dug his fingers into his hair.

“She was just here.” He said quietly. “Babs, was just here.”

Anna felt sudden rage. “You are not allowed to mourn her.” 

Charles looked up. “Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean I can’t be sad. She was my cousin too. Perhaps not by blood, but she was still a cousin.” He pressed his lips together angrily and stared fixedly at the witchlight stone that was illuminating the room. 

Anna, however, couldn’t find it in her to be diplomatic; she got up and left the room. 

…

Anna had never seen Eugenia look this way. She was always put together, posh. But now, she looked hollow. Like a shell of who she used to be. Anna wanted to go up to her, to say something, but she felt lost for words. What did you tell someone who lost a dear sister? If Anna felt sorrow, she couldn’t imagine what Eugenia was feeling. 

Her head was tilted upwards, looking up at the pyre where the corpse of her sister lay. Tears were streaming down her face, rolling down her cheeks, throat and chest, leaving streaks on her face that looked like the roots of a tree.

Sophie had her arm around her daughter. The sight of the four of them was very strange. There was a gap missing where Barbara should have been. She suddenly felt a hand take hold of her own. She looked to her right and saw her mother looking straight ahead, squeezing her daughter’s hand. Her father was looking down, holding Alex. Her baby brother was one of the few who looked up at the cousin who’d taught him to play simple songs on the piano, and had always let him sleep in her arms on New Year's eve.  

She didn’t know what he must have been thinking now, staring up at the pyre. 

Though, to be fair, she didn’t quite know what to think herself, as she looked up at the cousin who’s life was cut far too short.

…

Eugenia’s body didn’t feel like her own. She hadn’t felt this body was her own for a while. Even since Augustus and the secret she’d kept to herself.

This was somehow worse. To be torn away from your best friend, whom you’d shared a room with almost your entire life. Eugenia didn’t know how to live in a world without Barbara. Sometimes, in the rare moments when she forgot about her sadness, she’d call her sister’s name, ready to tell her about what had happened in her novel. Or find herself walking to Barbara’s room without thinking and then staring blankly at the door that has remained shut ever since the day she passed away.

A couple of weeks ago, she’d found a letter Barbara had sent her when she’d been in Idris. It was in between her copy of Jane Eyre. She couldn’t bring herself to read it in its entirety, but she stared at the signature blankly. 

Suddenly, she got the urge to run. So she ran. That’s how, an hour later, she’d gotten a small tattoo under her ankle that said “Sincerely, your favorite sister Babs.” 

It felt right to have Bab’s signature there, we’re only she could see. It made her feel accompanied everywhere she went, even though nobody else could see. 

Now, looking up at the pyre, her face tight from tears she’d left to dry, her mother weeping silently, she could almost imagine that her sister was there, simply caught in a slumber and that she’d wake up at any moment and come tumbling down, throwing herself in Eugenia’s arms.

Any moment now, she thought when the pyre burst into flames. 

“Ave atque vale, Barbara Lightwood.” The crowd said at once.

Eugenia shook her head and swayed on her feet. Her breathing became heavy and her fingers began prickling. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. No nononono. 

She felt a hand on her shoulder, vaguely that it was her father’s. 

Not Barbara.

Not Babs.

“Calm down, Genie.”

Not her sister. Her sister couldn’t possibly be up there.

“Breathe Eugenia.”

She wanted to scream that she couldn’t, that she’d never breathe again, as long as her sister wasn’t breathing with her. Why did she have to live? She would have much preferred that Barbara live in her stead. 

The world was numb and fractured, never to be fixed again. 

…

(Don’t worry, Gideon was able to help Genie after the fic ends bc he’s the best dad)

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[snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales]

Blue Moon - Part 4

A/N: See masterlist for prompts used. (And the list of amazing people who have helped me with this.) I felt it necessary to say, remember, these are all following along with the episodes from 03x04 on till the end of 3A. Without *directly* inserting the reader into the plot line, but more an off screen role. (Aside from the beginning, where, obviously, Derek fought the Alpha’s while Cora watched from the sidelines.) And because of that, it’s more angst than I usually write. It was a very angsty season. And the prompts have inherent angst, but lots of fluff, and sass, so once we get out of the murkiness that is Jennifer Blake (can you tell I don’t like her? - which, kudos to the actress, who I think is beautiful and brilliant, for making me hate her so much. 😆) we can move on to that happy, feel good, Sourwolf love we all enjoy so much. But until then, I guess this counts as a slow burn of sorts?

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Warnings: See Masterlist

Word count: 2,633

Xxx

The next day was lonely. Stiles would text you every now and then, but other than that it was a quiet day. No word about Derek from anyone other than Peter and Cora going to get his body and it not being there. And neither was Ennis’, who Derek had pulled down with him. You decided not to dwell on the many possible things that could mean. 

You drove in silence to all the places Stiles had mentioned the night before and spoke meekly at each one. You felt almost like you were floating through the day, going through the motions, but your mind was a million miles away. 

The meet ended up getting canceled due to weather, and they were all going to be stuck staying at some crappy motel that Stiles insisted was haunted through multiple texts with an excessive amount of emojis. You couldn’t get ahold of anyone else, which was kinda odd, but also not totally abnormal.

To top it all off, you needed something you left at the loft, so you told the Sheriff - who had taken the night off and ordered a pizza to stay in with you this evening, after finding out Stiles wasn’t coming right back - you would be back in a flash, you just had to “run home real quick”, careful not to mention the loft, to which he just chuckled and said something along the lines of, “Just make sure you run the speed limit.”

Sighing as you pulled into the loft parking lot, you glanced through the windshield up at the top floor where it sat. It was so ominous looking, bathed in moonlight, it almost gave a faint glow. Resting your forehead on the steering wheel, you took some deep breaths, panic rising as flashes of your tango with an Alpha came back rapidly. But instead of feeling like a badass, it made you hyperventilate. There was this gnawing feeling that it had been a one time thing, and that should you ever encounter them again you would be in so much trouble. 

Taking one last deep breath to steady your nerves, you stopped mid inhale, slightly cocking your head to the side, eyebrows knitted in confusion. 

Derek. 

You had caught Derek’s scent. Well, it’s his loft, you rationalized to yourself. But no. This was fresh. Less than a few hours old. Glancing back up at the loft one last time, you grabbed the handle and yanked your door open, mustering the courage you could find to climb up the winding staircase and see for yourself.

Taking them two at a time, you felt your courage build with each step and your hope that Derek was there along with it. As you stood in front of the loft door, your outstretched hand just shy of the handle and trembling, you took a tentative breath and knew Derek had been here very recently. That was the final push you needed to firmly grip the handle of the loft door, preparing to give it a hefty pull, but something made you stop short. 

A whisper. 

Just on the other side of the door, a woman's voice, then Derek’s. Surely your mind was playing tricks on you; you didn’t smell anyone else. You did pick up on something vaguely familiar, but couldn’t place it. The smell reminded you of school, and the crime scenes of the sacrifices you had been at, and lately, the loft. Unable to place the smell, you slowly slid the door open, stopping after only a few inches to peek in. 

What you saw made your heart speed up, as there Derek sat on the edge of his bed, covered in scratches and blood, but alive. He was alive. 

Your feet that had been glued to the floor suddenly felt like they were floating, the distance between him and you too much. You couldn’t contain the smile that brought to your lips, but it soon melted when another figure stepped into view in front of him. On instinct you had started to move forward, barely making it over the threshold before the other silhouette made you pull up short.

Jennifer. 

You covered your mouth to hold in whatever was about to come out, anger, disgust, pain, you didn’t know, they were all swirling in your gut at the sight. You fell to your knees, bracing yourself on the doorframe to try and stay just out of sight.

No, Derek hadn’t caught your scent yet, which is what you found the most strange, and worrisome, and only reinforced that she was doing something to his mind. 

You finally placed the smell as belonging to Miss Blake, but it was different from her scent she had all the other times you had seen her, and that somehow made it worse. It didn’t smell like emotions or anything, it smelled like an entirely different being. Barely even human.

This last thought made you knit your eyebrows in determination, about to rise to your feet, charge in there, and show the she devil a thing or two, but you only made it to one knee, still bent on the floor, before you froze, eyes wide, eyebrows practically in your hairline. What you saw could never be unseen. Like two dogs in heat, they were on one another as if space between them was too painful. Your grip on the door frame and the loft door handle almost broke them under the pressure. 

You felt sick. Physically sick to your stomach. Whether from the feeling of betrayal, knowing you were right that something was weird about this whole thing, the fact that they had been getting it on in front of you, or all of the above, you weren’t quite sure.

Sliding the door shut calmly, you tried to keep it together as you softly, but quickly, made it back down the stairs, into your car, and back to the Stilinski driveway, putting your car in park and shutting off the engine before you let yourself feel anything. 

You wanted to kick and scream and sob your eyes out because you knew she had been doing something to him, you knew something was wrong, but you didn’t go with your gut, and now here you were. In your car, alone. In front of the Stilinski house. Silent tears racing down your face at the feeling of betrayal, both from seeing them together tonight and at yourself for not doing something sooner. 

A tap on your window made you jump, and you saw the Sheriff trying to peek in. Opening your door, you hopped out, swiping rapidly at your tears, and plastering a smile on your face. “Sorry that took so long.”

He looked at you skeptically, waving it off. “Nah. The pizza just got here. You’re right on time.”

Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he ushered you into the house, quietly closing the front door behind the both of you. He stayed silent until you were both in the living room. He had the remote in his hand about to press play on the movie, but it dipped once in hesitation before he sighed, and it fell along with his hand to the armrest beside him. Scrubbing his face for a moment with his free hand, he finally looked up at you. Opening his mouth once before snapping it shut, staring blankly in front of him as if the space held the right thing to say, he scratched his forehead with the remote, his face making the face you had come to learn and love earlier on from Stiles. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

You stopped trying to grab a slice of pizza from the box, clearing your throat and wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans before nodding gently, staring at the floor. “Yeah.” You looked up and met his gaze, seeing concern painting his features. “Yeah, I’m okay, Mr. Stilinski. Just boy trouble. Thanks for asking.” You smiled as best you could, and he seemed to do the same. 

“Well, we’ve known each other forever, sweetheart, and I want you to know that you can tell me anything.”

The smile on your face felt a little more genuine. “I know. Thank you.”

“No matter how uncomfortable it makes me,” he continued as if you hadn’t said anything. The words sounded pained and forced, his brows knit like he was eating a lemon, and you finally let out the full smile that had been trying break through, even laughing. 

His lips twitched up gently. “There she is.”

“I will. Thank you. But for both of our sakes-” you leaned in, placing a hand on his forearm- “I’ll probably just tell Stiles.”

“Oh, thank God.” He let out on a huff of air, making you laugh again. “Now. Let’s watch this movie.” He hit play, and you settled into the couch, letting the plot unfolding on the screen take you away, if only for a little while.

Xxx

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, waking you up with a start. 

The DVD menu played softly on a loop, the movie long over, and to your right the Sheriff was snoring with his head on the back of the couch. 

You tossed the blanket you had been using on top of him before leaving the room and checked your phone, only to see it was Stiles.

“Stiles?” You spoke quietly into the receiver, not wanting to wake the Sheriff. 

“Y/N? Why are you whispering?” Stiles sounded kind of stressed, just a little bit off. 

“Your dad took off work tonight and we had a pizza - yes, I let him have pizza, don’t you dare jump on my case and go on a tirade about how he needs a salad, let the man live, Stiles - and we watched a movie.”

“I was wondering why that soundtrack was playing on a loop in the background. He used a DVD, didn’t he? I taught him how to use streaming-”

“Stiles!” You cut off his tangent with a chuckle. “Why are you calling me so late. Or, is it early?” You checked your watch to find it was early morning, still dark outside. 

“Well, let’s just say tonight has been interesting, we are all alive, which is good, but sleeping on the bus-”

“The bus?”

“The bus. Our rooms weren’t safe, and I don’t mean because of roaches or mysterious stains, Y/N.” You grinned. “Although there was this one smell in my room that was rather suspect….”

Smell. Scent. Shit.

Screwing your eyes shut, palm on your forehead, you spoke quickly, “Stiles, don’t be angry with me.” Peeking your head into the other room to see the Sheriff still soundly asleep, you stepped onto the back porch and closed the door behind you, ignoring Stiles’ incessant questions as you did. 

“Stiles! Hush! I had to leave the room so your dad didn’t hear!” 

“Oh,” was all he said. You heard the squeak of the bus as he slumped back against it, obviously doing the same as you and trying to get a bit of privacy. 

Taking a deep breath, you told him everything you saw at the loft. 

The only thing he did was suck in a sharp breath, but was otherwise silent. Finally he said, “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Yeah, thanks, whatever.” You cleared your throat, looking down at your feet before lifting your gaze to stare vacantly across the yard. “My main concern was that scent. It didn’t smell human, but not entirely not human.”

“Well, that’s terrifying,” Stiles said blandly, making your lips twitch up just slightly. You heard another voice on the other end, Scott, and Stiles mumbled something about speakerphone before the phone was jostled around a bit. You could hear a mumbled, “Well, no, you don’t need speakerphone because you’re a freak of nature, Scott, but I, a mere mortal, need the aid.” You chuckled and could hear Scott let out a groan and soft chuckle himself. 

“Y/N?” Finally Scott’s voice came through clearly.

“Yeah?” 

“First of all, thank you. For everything.” His voice sounded distant, and you sure as hell were going to interrogate them when they got back as to what the hell happened that night at the motel, but for now you just nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see you and rolled your eyes. 

“You’re welcome, Scott. The feeling’s mutual. Thanks for making it so easy.”

Stiles humphed. “I feel like that last part was directed at me.”

“But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A mumbled, “Thanks, I guess,” but you could hear his smile. 

“Y/N, the scent. The one you smelled at Derek’s loft.” Scott was back to business. “I think I smelled it here tonight.”

“Really? How is that-” You were cut off by Scott who was obviously talking to Stiles. 

“Right before we decided to stay in the bus, when Lydia saw something in the fire, after the explosion-”

"Okay, what the hell happened to you guys?!" you asked loudly, cutting them off. Grimacing, you quickly used your hearing to pick up on the Sheriff's continued snores, let out a sigh of relief, and lowered your voice. "I feel so left out."

“No, I’m glad you weren’t here,” Scott said. “Long story short, something went after a specific group of our friends, and when it finally showed its face,” you heard Lydia cut in from somewhere behind, “I’d barely call that a face,” and you didn’t know whether to laugh or be afraid. 

Scott continued pointedly, “When it showed its face, I got a whiff of something I can only describe how you described the smell at the loft. Not human. But also not… not…. human.”

A smacking sound could be heard, and you realized Stiles was patting Scott on the back while saying, “It’s okay, bud. It’s been a long day.”

“One question.” You took a deep breath, trying to decide on the winner of thousands that swam around your brain right now. “Why is Lydia there?”

“She came with Allison.”

“Why was Allison there, Stiles?”

“Uh-uh. You said one question.”

“This is still technically the same question since they apparently came together.”

“….Touché,” Stiles finally came back with, before sighing. “Look, I’ll tell you everything when we get back, okay? It’s been a hell of a day and I just want to sleep,” he continued in a mumble, “if I can ever sleep again after seeing what I’ve seen.” A brief pause. “You werewolves need to come with a disclaimer. ‘May cause sleep disturbances’.” 

You laughed loudly. “Okay, okay. I know I’m not going to get anywhere with you guys this tired. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” came a chorus of voices, and you felt relief wash over you at the sound of each one, knowing they were safe and sound. 

“Goodbye, Y/N.” Stiles’ voice came through by itself after some fumbling, probably taking you off speakerphone.

“Goodbye, Stiles. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay on the phone until you fall asleep? I mean, I am part of the reason, after all. I do come with a disclaimer.”

“I would absolutely love that, but I need to save my battery and I am in a bus surrounded by werewolves, whatever Lydia is, and a hunter. I think my security system is pretty good for tonight.”

You chuckled. “Okay then. Goodnight, Stiles.

“Goodnight, Y/N. Oh!”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being there with my dad.”

“No problem, Stiles. You know he’s like family to me. He was there for me when I came back from the loft, said I could talk about it if I needed.”

“He offered to listen while you talked?!” He was almost yelling. 

You laughed again. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

He chuckled. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Xxx

Tags: @mayahart02, @palaiasaurus64, @shydinosaurcandy, @lucyqueenofthestars, @c-breanne1999, @l4life, @ethereallysimple, @teenwolffan-with-nolife, @bellabadacadabra, @lilostif16, @wandas-love, @emily500, @babygirl-angel-love, @c-dizzle99 What’s This?

[amerrierworld]

Babysitter (pt 10)

Pt 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Summary: You and Tony have a discussion as Hela and Loki sneak around. 

Characters: Hela x fem!reader, Loki, Tony, Steve, Rhodey

Word Count: 1,813

Warnings: nothing? feels!

The New Avengers Facility was by far the most luxurious hideout you'd ever encountered. It was also incredibly large and perfect for aimless exploring. 

The Avengers, though concerned for you once you arrived, quickly lost focus of you as they began flitting about their machines and computers to see what the hell was happening around the world. 

You were given your own room, fully furnished with a well-stocked mini fridge. There was a camera situated outside by the door, so they’d know if you went in or out.

Normally you would’ve protested the house arrest, but you couldn’t be bothered suddenly. You were numb. 

The Facility was massive. It varied from small cozy lounge areas to large open spaces for training, meetings, and all sorts of experimental engineering. 

You were curled up in one of the tinier corners on a brown leather sofa. The rest of the place just seemed so pristine and neat and horrifically modern, no offense to Tony’s design tastes. There was a digital fireplace and heater, yet the 3D projection of the actual fire made it seem real. Only thing missing was the smell of burning wood. 

“Thought you’d have run off by now,” grunted a voice behind you. Tony had come into the lounge. You kept looking at the fire.

“I have no where else to go, Tony,” you said bluntly. Over the past few days you’d been reading up more and more from the news, contacting people you hadn’t talked to in ages. There were a few distant friends and relatives who’d been taken by the Blip, and your heart ached at the ones you hadn’t been able to see one last time. 

“Besides,” you sighed, breaking your gaze from the fire as Tony came to sit across from you, “none of you would have let me leave even if I really tried.”

He leaned back, stretching his body nonchalantly, and you noticed how weary  and thin he actually looked. Dark circles under his eyes, and his fingers seemed to be twitching or twiddling consistently.

“What happened to you?” you muttered. “Why do you look like shit?”

“Oh, you know,” he said, waving his hand, “spent some merry time in space, that’s all. Wasn't planning on being stranded there, but here we are.”

You didn’t ask anything else. Instead you got up, walked to the near sink and pulled out a kettle from the cupboards to make yourself some tea. 

“Okay, let me ask you a question,” Tony said in the silence, twisting in his seat to watch you, resting his head on the back of the sofa. “How on earth did you end up falling head over heels for a psycho?”

You snorted, grabbing a teabag and a mug, “you could ask Pepper the same thing.”

Tony clutched his chest in mock offence, “Ouch. Cold-hearted.”

Grinning, you steeped your tea, and turned around to look at Tony, “it’s not that simple, Stark.”

“No, I think it is,” he said.

“Well fine,” you sighed, slightly exasperated, “she was in my house with me alone, for days. At some point we ended up talking and actually getting to know each other. She opened up to me, and I to her and.. that was it.”

“And how do you know she wasn’t lying to get a way out?”

“She wasn’t. She’d never.”

“But how do you know? Wasn’t it you who always thought you had to give things time? She’s lived for thousands of years, Y/N. You’re a fruit-fly compared to her.”

“Why has this turned into an interrogation?” you snapped. He held up his hands, 

“I’m not interrogating. Just trying to understand.”

“Why did Jane fall in love with Thor, huh? At the time he was a ridiculous, self-absorbed and mindless God who didn’t know how the hell this world worked. Why did Pepper fall in love with you? A narcissistic millionaire playboy who loves to play games and doesn’t take anything seriously?”

You paced the floor as your tea cooled down, fuming,

“Why the hell does anyone fall in love with anyone, huh? Who gets a fucking say in how they feel? And why do you guys have so little faith in me to trust what I feel? I’ve kept secrets for you, I’ve hidden you in my home, I’ve been a part of so much secrecy, and suddenly when I get a little heart-eyed at someone, you act as if I’ve been brainwashed.”

Tony didn’t say anything for a moment. When you met his eyes, they were a little wider than before, looking at you questioningly. 

“In love, huh?”

You blinked.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Uh-huh, you did.”

“N-no, I didn’t, I said I-”

Your face became red, fumbling over your words.

Tony got up from his seat and clapped his hands as he sauntered over to the exit.

“Let’s go sparring, hm? Haven’t done that in a while,” he offered. You tried to cool your cheeks, forgetting about your tea steeping behind you.

“That’s cause I always lose,” you retorted. “You guys work out like your life depends on it. Which... it does.. I guess.”

“Yeah, but look at the state of me,” Tony spread out his arms and did a spin. “I’m feeling like trash. You’ll take me down no problem.”

You doubted that, but followed him anyways. 

-

“Ah, fuck!” Hela swore as another branch tugged at her helmet.

“Will you shut up?” Loki hissed, crouching down and peeking through the trees. “God, you’re even more infuriating than Thor!”

Hela was breathing heavily, aching, grumpy. 

“You really are a pain when you’re not around Y/N, aren’t you? You’re not going to massacre all the Avengers just because you’re peeved, right?”

“Be silent, filth,” she spat. Her brother only rolled his eyes. “What do you see?”

“I thought you wanted me to be silent.”

Hela whacked the back of his head and he grimaced, 

“Alright, alright. Look yourself, it’ll be hard to get in undetected.”

Hela peered over his shoulder. He was right; there wasn’t a lot of hiding spaces or shadows. Well-lit with open spaces, the modern-style building looked quite distasteful to Hela. She pulled a face, both in annoyance and disgust,

Loki chuckled, “I’m glad you hate it too.”

“Shut up,” Hela hissed, before scurrying off further into the trees to explore the perimeter. 

“Where are you- Hela!” Loki whispered hoarsely, hurrying after her. 

She was looking for weak spots, places with no cameras, a spot to sneak in. But she also had no idea where you were, and with the vastness of the buildings she worried if she’d even find you on time.

“Hela,” Loki hissed. She shushed him again, eyes searching the upper floors.

“Hela!” 

“What?”

“Look,” Loki pointed downwards. A little further in the distance outside, surrounded by well lit lights, stood you and that iron-armoured man, both with wooden sticks in your hands, the length of a short blade, thick enough to wrap your whole hand around it.

“Come on, let’s go back, before they see us,” Loki hissed, grabbing Hela’s shoulder. “At least we know she’s here.”

But Hela couldn’t move. You were wearing dark grey sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie, and sturdy boots. You looked tired, but were a vision to her. The man with you wasn’t wearing his armour, and suddenly looked a lot less threatening.

Loki watched, amazed, as his sister’s armour shimmered. The horns disappeared from her head and her cape faded until she was only in black, blending into the darkness.

She dared another step closer.

“Widen your stance,” the man said, waving the stick around. “Now try to attack.”

Hela watched you practice, your grip a bit clumsy and your stance a bit wobbly, but you were determined. She recalled the day she pulled a fork on you as a weapon, and winced a bit at the memory of the fearful, defenceless look in your eyes.

“Like that?” she heard you say, bending your knees and lowering your core.

“Good, but stay light on your feet, otherwise you can’t dodge.”

Your voice was like music to her ears, and hot tears prickled at her eyes. She missed you. So much.

“Stark, what the hell are you trying to do?” two more men had appeared. One blonde, and large, wearing a tight shirt and jeans. The other, dark, dressed in similar casual clothes.

“Gentlemen! Welcome to this exclusive defence lesson.”

“You’re by far the worst defence teacher out of all of us, Stark. Y/N won’t learn shit from you.”

“You wound me, Captain.”

Hela watched you shake hands with the other.

“Oh, Y/N, this is our friend Rhodey, also known as the War Machine.”

“Pleased to meet you, despite the.. unideal circumstances,” the newcomer shook your hand respectfully and flashed a smile. Hela flared with jealousy, and subconsciously bared her teeth.

“Easy,” Loki whispered.

The four of you paired up, you against Tony, but watching Captain’s instructions as he sparred with Rhodey. 

You were not held under lock and key, and Hela worried a moment. Did you go willingly with them after all? Did you forget about her? Was it foolish to even attempt a rescue?

Your laugh rang into the night as Rhodey tackled a distracted Steve, and both dread and joy filled Hela’s heart.

“Okay, try again,” Tony encouraged you. You swung at him a few times as he blocked and dodged. 

Then, you saw her in the darkness. A flash of green eyes, and Tony took your distraction to his advantage, swiping your leg from under you and you fell to the ground with a thud.

Hela nearly shot out of the tree line to protect you if Loki hadn’t stopped her. Then she heard a groan and chuckle coming from you,

“I told you I’d lose.”

“Don’t get distracted then, kiddo.” Tony held out his hand and hoisted you up. Hela growled at the camaraderie and slunk back in the shadows. “What were you looking at?”

He began to turn to follow your eyeline, and you paled,

“N-nothing! I- I was daydreaming.” He looked back at you.

“Not a good idea to daydream while fighting, Y/N,” Steve said.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m not used to this, you know?”

“It’s about time you were taught,” Tony clapped your shoulder. 

“You want to learn anything from the War Machine himself?” Steve asked, nodding at Rhodey.

“Oh, I-I’d love to. But, maybe tomorrow?” you suggested, desperately trying to avoid looking at Hela in the distance. “I’m quite.. tired.”

The men seemed to agree and chatted as they headed back into the building. Tony swiped at Steve as they walked, who promptly tugged the sparring stick from him. 

You hurriedly looked around into the darkness, wanting to see another glimpse, hoping you didn’t imagine it. But when you couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, you worried if you really had gone insane.

Steve called after you, and your heavy feet carried you back inside to settle for the rest of the night.

A/N: Life is fucking INSANE. only a few chapters left for this!! Don’t ask me about the timeline alterations because me trying to make sense of the canon and trying to make it all fit is making my brain explode!! I hope you like it, love you all!!! Stay safeee

tag list: @midnight-lestrange​ @cheerfullyvenomous @germansarechill @gaylorrds @amii-nyc @waitingfortheendtocome @novakitten0901 @marvels-writings @jadewestwriter​ @thisisanexistentialcrisis​

[crystalessenceswrites]

hiii if you’re still taking requests for the bucketheads, would you be able to do 1 and 4 from the kink list for boba? <3

M’kay anon, this is the kinkiest shit I’ve ever produced... I hope you enjoy. Boba Fett x fem!reader Rating: E (18+) Warnings: I think Boba comes with his own warning… Explicit sexual content, consensual non-consent, discussion of kink, discussion of safe words, d/s tones, rough sex, degradation, cuffs, knife is present (no knife play), orgasm denial, unprotected P in V sex, predator/prey if you squint and close one eye … so basically this is just filthy ya’ll

(1) “Pretend you don’t want it” & (4) “You know I love you; right? I have every intention of fucking you like I don’t.”

Despite what most folks thought of Boba Fett and his gruff disposition, Boba was a generous lover. The bounty hunter never left you wanting (unless that was the goal) and was more than happy to experiment with other ways to sate both your needs. It was not uncommon for Boba to probe for new ideas as you both laid wrapped up in each other, drifting on the last waves of bliss.

“I know there must be something,” he murmurs against your skin, lips dragging against the sensitive length of your throat, “you cannot lie to me, mesh’la.”

Breath caught in your chest; you squirm under his scrutiny. There were times you cursed just how perceptive your Mandalorian was. He could read you like a book. But even knowing Boba as you did, there were still some desires you were hesitant to share. Fantasies held close to your chest that you did not expect to ever share with a partner.

Boba is relentless. Once he sinks his teeth into something he will not let go. This is no different. He sees you holding back, and he will dig until he unburies it. “Love,” he presses a series of chaste kisses across your cheeks, “I want you to feel good. Let me make you feel good.”

You know he does. He has yet to try anything that does not. “Boba…”

He pulls back, expectant as he studies your face. “I’ve never- it’s not…” the words are heavy on your tongue, “it’s not something I’ve shared.”

Boba’s face softens as he gathers you up in his arms. Warm hands running up and down your back as you tuck your face into the crook of his neck. “Take your time, mesh’la. I don’t want to upset you.”

You take a few calming breaths, following the movements of Boba’s fingers across your skin. “You know I like it when you get a bit rough.” The two of you had played around with that plenty. Boba was a strong man and you enjoyed when he took advantage of that in the bedroom. Nothing ever reached the point of pain, but he always left you a pleasant kind of sore when you were finished.

“I know you do,” he rumbles deep in his chest as he continues to soothe you.

“And I like it when you’re in charge.” Considering his personality and line of work it shouldn’t surprise anyone he enjoyed it just as much as you. He reveled in the control as much as your reveled in submitting to him.

Boba chuckles again, “oh do you?”

Smacking at his chest, you pout, “don’t tease, Boba!”

“I’m sorry, mesh’la. Keep going.”

“I like it when you use me…” this was rather new between the two of you, but it had become obvious that you both enjoyed when Boba let loose and used you to fuck out his frustrations. Even when Boba focuses on his own pleasure, he manages to leave you happy and satisfied.

“Yes.” You can hear the curiosity peak in his voice. You most definitely had his attention now.

“I want that all… for you to get rough and use me, but I not want it…” your voice trails off, burying yourself further into his chest and holding your breath.

Boba remains eerily still for a long moment. Every fear you’d had over admitting this to him flashes before your eyes. The disgust or rejection. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes at the thought.

His hand flexes against your hips, fingers digging into your skin. “Princess… you want to pretend you don’t want it?”

Eyes cinched shut you nod into his shoulder, just wanting to melt into a puddle and leave all the embarrassment behind.

Instead of shoving you away Boba groans and pulls you even closer. Chest to chest you can feel his breathing pick up. “You want me to get rough, to take you, even though you’re telling me no?”

You think your whole body is flushed now as Boba’s words rattle around in your head. Ever perceptive, he knows exactly what you want. He does not sound opposed either. No, you can hear the excitement behind his word.

“Yes.”

“That can be arranged, princess,” the bounty hunter practically purrs.

.

Boba is meticulous with the barrage of questions that follow, but you understand their necessity. He would never actually hurt you and wanted to put every safeguard in place to keep any accidents from happening. It was also about setting up the most pleasurable scene for the both of you, making sure you would both enjoy embracing one of your less conventional fantasies. He walks you through every element of his plans without actually spoiling the “surprise.” This only serves to build up the anticipation. While the two of you already use the color system when trying out something new in bed, you settle on an additional safeword for good measure, satisfying Boba’s need to have redundancies on top of redundancies. He not only needed to be in control of you, he needed to have complete control over the situation as well.

You can hardly contain yourself the next day at the market. You know it’s coming but you don’t know when. The anticipation alone was already working you up as you navigate the market crowds. You figure he wouldn’t grab you in front of anyone, or within shouting distance either. Neither of you were wanting to cause a scene, especially somewhere you two often stopped to resupply. You could still feel his watchful gaze following you through town as you finished up the shopping. Despite all the training he’d given you between jobs over the years, you still couldn’t tell where he was watching you from or how he was following you. It was frustrating, but it spoke to Boba’s skill. He never failed to impress, even when it came to your little game.

Standing on the edge of town you attempt to still your racing heart. You can still feel his eyes on you, igniting your most basic instincts. Your gut tells you to stay in the settlement, knowing you are safe around other people, but your core urges you on down the wooded path, eager for the promise of what’s to come. It all leaves you too tense to appreciate the walk back to the ship, you’re too focused on every sound, ever sign of the man hot on your trail.

As the town fades out of view your body realizes what’s happening seconds before your mind does. Boba, the picture of calm, strolls out of the tree line a few paces ahead, decked out in full armor, favorite baster strapped to his hip. The picture of an intimidating hunter. You just freeze and stare, like a deer caught in headlights as his visor remains trained on you.

When your mind finally does catch up it screams at you. Your fight or flight kicks in and you know there’s no way in hell you could ever overpower Boba. Ditching your pack, you spin on your heel and put all you have into a full sprint back towards safety. Realistically you know you would not get far. Boba’s reputation was not for nothing. He had a lifetime of practice in catching people and catch you he did. One thick arm appears out of nowhere, latching around your torso as his other hand clamps down over your mouth, cutting off your ear-piercing screech. He hauls you back into his chest despite your flailing. Your kicking does little against his beskar as he pins your arms to your sides.

His laugh crackles through the helmet at your pathetic attempts to escape. “Now, now, little one. If you stay still for me, I might be gentle with you.” Heat washes over your body at the insinuation but despite your submissive streak, that’s not what this was about. Boba gets off on working you into submission just as much as seeing you willing give it. You didn’t plan on be willing today.

The moment he removes his hand from your mouth you resume your struggle. Your shouts lost to the trees. “Let me go you sleemo!”

He laughs again, grip tightening around you, acting as if your thrashing doesn’t inconvenience him at all.

“I haven’t done anything! Let me go!” you wail.

“I beg to differ,” he shoots back as he snaps his binders over your right wrist.

“Oh no, no, no! No! Let me go!” Nearly frantic you try with your whole being to keep him from locking in your other hand, but your struggle doesn’t amount to much. His posture screams smug as he tightens the metal around your wrists. It was not the first time Boba had used his binders on you and the memories of the nights before sends a pleasant warmth to your core despite the situation.

With little preamble Boba hoists you up over his shoulder, your upper half hanging over his back. His arm wrapped around your waist keeps your squirming to a minimum, so you resort to pounding your bound fists against his back. It only serves to amuse him further. You’re probably doing more damage to your hands as you repeatedly bash at his armor.

He ignores every insult and curse you hurl his way as he treks back to Slave I. Your voice starting to go hoarse as he carries you up the ramp and none to gently tosses you to the floor of the hull.

Boba stands above you, his visor following your frantic movements, still searching for an escape. A few taps on his vambrace has the ramp closing behind him, sealing your fate. Tilting his helmet ever so slightly the menacing aura melts away, “color?”

“Green,” you nod, and the bounty hunter snaps back into place.

“Up,” he orders, jerking his helmet at you.

You fix a glare up at him, refusing to make this easy for him.

A sigh filters through the modulator, “don’t say I didn’t give you a chance to make this pleasant.” In a flash he’s yanking you across the floor by your cuffs. The metal floor dragging uncomfortably across your back. You told him you liked it when he manhandled you and he obviously remembered. He pulls up onto a blanket laid out along the far wall, forcing you to sit, back pressed into the metal pipping as he shackles your hands above your head. You didn’t even get the luxury of a bed now.

“Please,” you beg, tugging at your restraints, “you don’t have to do this. Let me go.”

His wide form kneels at your feet as he twirls his viroblade in one hand. Blood roars in your ears as your eyes lock on the blade.

“Oh, but I do have to,” you can picture his Cheshire grin under the helmet as he drags the knife up your pant leg.

“Oh please, no. Please don’t.” Your begging turns to whimpers as the blade continues upwards. He toys with the edge of your shirt for a moment before his visor snaps up. “Hold still.”

His tone leaves no argument, and you freeze as the viroblade is jerked upwards, slicing the front of your top clean open with one flick of his wrist. Tears build in the corner of your eyes as he tugs the ruined clothing open to expose as much of you to him as he can with your hands still bound.

“Look at you,” he groans, one gloved hand coming up to tweak one peaked nipple through your breast band. Your pleas fall on deaf ears as he yanks the band down, exposing your breasts to his rough groping.

As your pleas fade into weak whines Boba seems satisfied with your chest, his hands get to work unlacing your pants. You whimper one last “please” before he rips them down your legs taking your underwear with.

“Ha, you act like you don’t want this-” he runs one hand up your slit, the evidence of your arousal collecting on his glove- “but you’re dripping for me,” he sneers.

“No! I don’t-please, I don’t!” you sob, tugging helplessly at your binders. The metal rattles against the pipe.

Boba scoffs, “sure you don’t.” With what you imagine as a roll of his eyes, he yanks your hips forward, allowing him better access to your cunt. Two fingers press into your sopping hole, drawing a garbled cry from your lips.

“So fucking wet,” he spits, voice crackling through the helmet as he begins to coax the coil in your belly tighter and tighter with his vicious fingering. You bite your bottom lip to hold back the moans, still trying to retain some sense of pride and deny him the pleasure.

“So fucking tight,” he grins, “can’t wait to feel you squeezing my cock, girl.”

Crooking his fingers, he presses up against that spot inside you, pushing you right up to the edge before he quickly withdraws his hand. Legs quivering, you sob at the harsh denial.

“Ready for my cock, girl?” he taunts, moving back to his feet.

Bleary eyed you shake your head, a quiet “no” falling from bruised lips.

“I think you are.” Boba grips under your shoulders, hauling you to your feet and freeing your cuffs from the ship wall before quickly manhandling you to your hands and knees. You can’t get any purchase on the floor or blanket with your hands still in the binders. Your arms slide out in front of you, leaving your face pressed into the blanket, ass arched into the air. Boba groans at the sight

“Prefect,” he rasps, leaning over your body. His cool beskar pressed against your flushed skin, a small relief. Hands settling into a vice grip around your hips he rubs himself against your weeping folds, coating his cock in your arousal.

When did he? You don’t even remember hearing him unzip.

Bearing down on you, cock notched at your entrance he rests his helmet over your shoulder. “You know I love you, right?”

“Y-yes,” you croak, trying to turn towards him.

“I have every intention of fucking you like I don’t.”

“Please!” you cry, though you’re not sure what you’re begging for at this point.

With one quick thrust Boba sheathes himself in you, burying himself to the hilt. You swear you can feel him in your throat as he throbs inside your heat. One hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back as he begins to pound into you.

Boba doesn’t lie. He fucks you like he’s never fucked you before, his hips relentlessly pistoning into you, driving his cock home again and again. Tears stream down your face as he draws you back up to the precipice, the coil ready to snap again. Boba can feel it, his hips stutter as you grip him in a vice.

“Come on then,” he grunts, pulling on your hair again, “come all over my cock, girl.”

Your body listens, your orgasm slams into you, forcing the air from your lungs. Overwhelmed with your own release you barely register Boba groaning above you, burying himself in you as he cums, his warm seed filling you to the brim.

Neither of you move for a long moment, letting the waves of pleasure recede before untangling yourselves. Boba curses as he pulls out, the mix of your release dripping down your already messy thighs. Tucking himself away he settles next to you, dragging your limp body into his lap. Blissed out, you let him go about freeing you from the cuffs, inspecting your wrists for any irritations.

“Mesh’la,” he coos, wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks, “how are you feeling?”

Smiling up at him, you lean into his gentle touch. “Good… sore and tired… but very good.”

“And was that everything you wanted?”

“Everything and more, Boba.”

Ever the generous lover.

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

What Fun! The Apocalypse (PART 6)

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: my already poor health has been particularly bad and I lost a few thousands brain cells so probably this part could have been better. But I kind of like it as it is. I could, too, have been less cruel to Wilhemina, but I hate stories that are like, “it took exactly 2 seconds and a half for this character to overcome their trauma welcome to rainbow land”. This part may be the last part, or I may write more, idk yet. Thank you for your kind feeback and thank your for reading, lovelies. x

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4  // PART 5

Word count: ~ 7 000

Warnings: physical violence, self-harm (kind of?), ongoing battle btw me and English prepositions

You awoke, opened your eyes, and remembered. Today was the Apocalypse.

Everyone from Kineros Robotics who had been chosen to survive gathered in the lunch room at 8am, and waited there to board their respective planes. Most of the outposts were a long flight from California, so you and Wilhemina were to leave the place last. You had packed a small suitcase with a few of your belongings, objects you could not get rid of. You ignored the disapproving glare from Wilhemina. She was flying with nothing but her cane and a stock of painkillers for her back.

Wilhemina scanned the faces in the room. Everyone here was a longtime employee at Kineros, deemed worthy and clever enough to build and rule a new world. Pathetic, all of them. Wilhemina tapped her cane threateningly on the floor as a tall woman walked past her too close for comfort; the woman turned her head at the sound, slowly ran her eyes down and up Wilhemina’s figure, and smiled condescendingly.

Eyes were Wilhemina’s least favourite part of the human face. They were dull, and only reflected the stupidity of the brain. Eyes had stared at her and sneered and derided. Eyes had crinkled with mocking laughter and narrowed with disgust or judgment. They pried and pitied and wondered as they wonder at rare, exotic zoo animals. Other people’s eyes were only acceptable (safe) when lowered in fear or respect.  

But your eyes were different. Your eyes were kind. They were loving and caring. She could get lost in them and know she was safe.

The plane to Outpost 4 departed at 10am. The one to Outpost 2 departed at 10:30. By noon, Wilhemina and you were the only one left in the room. The mysterious Ms Mead had driven to Outpost 3 the day before, to make sure everything was ready. Wilhemina had met her and decided she was trustworthy. A robot. Her mind programmed to obey her. Her heart had jumped with excitement at the thought.

The plane to Outpost 3 was to leave at exactly 2:40pm, five minutes before a ballistic missile would hit the nearest city. At 2:20 you jumped down from the table you were sitting on and ran to the nearest bathroom. An employee, who was to stay and die and did not even have the slightest idea of what was about to happen, walked past the lunch room and shot Wilhemina a curious glance. She gave him her coldest, most condescending smile in return. Another man walked past, quickly and with his shoulders bent. Wilhemina caught a glimpse of his face. Her heart did something weird in her chest.

Now, that was simply impossible, her brain told her. His plane had left hours ago. Her eyes had tricked her mind, excitement and anticipation made her see things that were not real.

You hurried back into the room, your hands fidgeting anxiously, completely unable to stand still. “Let’s go,” you said quickly, “let’s go board our plane.”

“Wait,” Wilhemina said without thinking.

You stopped in front of her.

“Wilhemina it’s 2:25 we have to –“

Here it was again, the impossible shape, hovering on one side of the door. Something in Wilhemina’s mind whispered a warning. Her eyes shifted to your face. Protect her, urged the whisper.  

“I forgot an important file on my desk,” Wilhemina lied in a very calm voice.

“Are you kidding me?!” you exclaimed.

The shape moved and disappeared.

“It has all the names and information on the people who will stay with us at the outpost,” Wilhemina went on. “Go and get it. You walk faster than I do.”

“For God’s sake you must be kidding me,” you growled.  

“Go,” she ordered you. “You’re wasting time.”

You scowled at her, but stormed out of the room. She listened as your footsteps faded away. Then she straightened up, pulling her shoulders back, and her right hand clenched around the knob of her cane.

“Hello, hunchback.

Rory leaned against the door, his arms folded across his chest, a stupid smirk plastered on his face. Anger rose in Wilhemina’s throat.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she snapped.

Rory’s smirk widened and he started walking towards her.

“Thought I should come and say hi. Long time no see. Honestly, I’m surprised you remember me. You didn’t seem to care much about my person last time we talked.”  He stopped a few inches away from Wilhemina, looking down on her, his eyes full of a triumphant, predatory light. “Last time we talked,” he repeated slowly in his drawling voice, “and you so rudely fired me. Now, I think that surely you have regrets. I think that surely you regret treating me so badly.” He raised a hand to caress her cheek, but she slapped it away.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” Wilhemina hissed.

He was too close, so close she could feel the heat emanating from his body, but she would be damned before she took a step back.

“Now, that’s not how one expresses regret,” Rory said.

Without warning, he kicked her cane over and sent it rolling on the floor and under a table. Wilhemina stumbled, regained her balance with a wince.

Rory grabbed her arm and leaned in. “Tell me,” he whispered in her ear, “can you bend low enough to blow me or will I have to break your back?”

“Go to Hell,” Wilhemina hissed, and spat on his face.

Rory’s knee came up and slammed into her stomach. Wilhemina crumpled to the floor, winded, and let out a cry as Rory kicked her side.

“Good news, hunchback!” he cried excitedly. “It’s the fucking Apocalypse! D’you know what it means?” Another kick. “It means –“ another kick, “there’ll be no police –“ another kick, “which means I can do whatever the fuck –“  another kick, ”I want to you.”

Wilhemina let him hit her. She had no way of fighting back, and even if she had, she wasn’t sure she would have. Every kick awakened the sneering voice in her head that reminded her just how monstrous her body was. How it was only fair she should hurt. How she deserved the pain he was causing her, and so much more of it. The pain she was feeling was the pain she had wanted to inflict on herself for so long, a punishment for being such a hideous, such a deformed monstrosity and now she could feel joy, there was joy in her heart and she was laughing –

“What the hell?!” came a voice, loud and angry and threatening like the growl of a storm. Rory’s kicking stopped and Wilhemina almost raised her head to beg him to continue, not to stop until he’d broken every single rotten bone.

“What. The. Fucking hell Rory!” you roared, flinging yourself at him and slapping him violently in the face. “How dare you, you fucking fuck!”

Rory stumbled away from you, his hand covering his cheek where you had hit him, too stunned to speak. His back touched the wall.

“Get out!” you roared. “Get out or I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

You watched him scurry away, then you ran to where Wilhemina lay curled up on the floor.

Laughing. She was laughing. Loud, painful laughs that shook her chest and tore their way out of her throat like shards of glass.

“Wilhemina? Oh God.” Your hands were shaking. “Oh God. Wilhemina, can you hear me?”

You grabbed her hand, but she jerked it free and moved it to cover her face. Her laughter still came out through her palm.

You stared at her, at a loss for what to do. Your heart was hammering in your ears but couldn’t drown out the terrible sound of her laughter. And above it all, like a red blaring light, rose a terrifying sense of urgency.

“Wilhemina,” you called, as bitter tears pooled in your eyes. This was all your fault. You had ignored Muff’s warning and put Wilhemina in danger because of your goddamn pride. You had thought you knew better than everyone else. Thought people were books, thought you could predict exactly how everyone would behave - thought that nothing harmful could come in the way of two people in love.

“Wilhemina, baby,” you pleaded through your tears, ”please, can you hear me?”

Hurry, hurry, hurry, blared the light in your head.

Something in your voice must have gotten to Wilhemina, for her laughter slowly died out. She nodded. You reached out for the hand that was covering her face, tentatively slipping your fingers between hers.

“Wilhemina, tell me where he hurt you? Can you stand up? Baby, I’m so sorry, we have to move, we have to catch that plane, we have to –“

Your voice broke. You dropped your head, sobbing out an “Oh God” as Wilhemina’s fingers tightened around yours.

She was already trying to sit up, wincing in pain and coughing out blood, so brave, so strong in the face of it all. You wrapped your arms around her waist and lifted her to her feet, and she cried out in pain.

“I’m so sorry baby,” you cried, over and over again, “I’m so sorry, we have to go, we have to catch that plane.”

She pointed to her cane and you hastily grabbed it, pressed it into her hand, slipped your arm higher up her waist to support her as you hobbled out of the lunch room and oh God, Wilhemina coughed out blood again. Tears and sweat rolled down her face as she pushed on, hurrying as fast as she could along too many corridors, the place endless, it was spreading endlessly everywhere and expanding by the second and you would never make it.  

Wilhemina’s knees buckled. She collapsed on the ground with a cry.

“Go,” she croaked between her teeth. “Just go.”

“Don’t be stupid,” you growled. You heaved her to her feet. “Lean on me, sweetie, just lean on me. I know you can do it.” You pressed a quick kiss on her cheek. “I’m not leaving you, you fool.”

A tiny part of you screamed in rebellion. Death terrified you. Run, screamed a frantic voice in your head, just run for your life, who cares about her you will both die. You shook your head violently, tightened your grip around Wilhemina. Uttered words of encouragement to her. Shut the fuck up, you barked at the voice in your head. The voice roared. You roared louder.

There was a loud, distant explosion. The walls shook all around you, and the lights flickered. Wilhemina groaned, but did not stop.  

You turned a corner, slammed your shoulder into a door and stumbled outside. There was something wrong with the light, a sick quality to it, it was too orange and too misty, but you barely paid attention to it, your eyes falling on the beautiful, shining small plane waiting for you just a few feet away. The pilot was standing in the narrow door, waving his arms at you and calling out.

“Come on, baby, almost there,” you growled, your heart beating madly in your chest.  Wilhemina’s arm spasmed. You gripped onto her tighter.

And then your brain took over. On auto-pilot you hobbled the short distance to the plane, half carried Wilhemina up the airstair, past the man as he hurriedly closed the door and shut out the light that was too orange, too misty, the light that was so hideously sick. You collapsed on the floor with Wilhemina in your arms, crying and laughing, and peppered her face with wet kisses. When you finally pulled away for air her face was very pale, blood drying on her lower lip and chin, but she offered you a small smile.

“You made it, honeybunch,” you panted, and burst into a laugh.  

**

The plane took off. You made Wilhemina lie down on a row of seats, then ran to the bathroom and dampened a hand towel. Your hands were shaking, your breathing was quick and shallow. Now that the exhilaration of victory and the rush of adrenaline were subsiding, something dark was settling in your chest like lead. You shook your head, scowled at your reflection in the mirror. Get a grip, you ordered yourself. Your eyes in the mirror were wide with fear and guilt.

Wilhemina had sat up while you were gone, but you made her lie down again and gently wiped the blood off her face with the wet towel. She was way too pale, her body too rigid, her jaw clenched tight against the pain. Your fault. Your goddamn fault for being such a fucking brag who thought she had some sort of superpower and could guess everything about everyone. You shook your head again, gulped back tears, and focused on Wilhemina.

“I don’t need this, Y/N,” Wilhemina said as you gently swiped the towel across her forehead - her voice was low and gravelly and her diction was weird, every word perfectly enunciated but coming out thick and heavy. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” you retorted, your voice breaking. “Wilhemina, let me – you’ve just been beaten up let me take care of –“

Your hand gently caressed her cheek; Wilhemina flinched, her neck tensing and curving away from you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, immediately withdrawing your hand. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she answered, almost a snap. It wasn’t fear that was vibrating through her, she wasn’t afraid of your touch, - it was something entirely different you couldn’t quite understand yet. She was glaring at the ceiling, her body incredibly tense, her eyes glassy and angry.

“Can I touch you?” you asked softly.

Wilhemina’s eyes briefly shifted to you, then back to the ceiling. One of her arms wrapped around her stomach and squeezed, hard.

“I need to make sure you’re not bleeding anywhere,” you explained.

“I’m not bleeding.”

“Where does it hurt the most? Wilhemina if there’s any wound we need to make sure and clean it bef –“

“There’s no wound,” she snapped. “A few bruises at worst.”

You paused, swallowing down your fear.

“Alright,” you said, raising both hands in the air – they were visibly shaking, so you quickly lowered them -, “alright. Just let me get you some water.”

She was still glaring at the ceiling when you came back, but you weren’t sure she was seeing it. Her eyes were burning with a kind of anger that had something terribly sad about it, something that made your heart ache for her. You unscrewed the bottle of water and offered it to her.

She took exactly one sip and handed the bottle back to you.

“Stop being so stubborn,” you said. “Drink some more –“

“I am being stubborn? Stop acting so stupid.“

“I’m not stupid, I’m worried about you.“

Automatically your hand landed on her ankle and your thumb stroked her skin. Again, she flinched, and her leg gave a kick.

“Stop it!” she snapped, her voice too high, her eyes meeting yours, desperate and angry, as her arm squeezed harder still around her stomach, her elbow digging into her ribs. “Leave me alone! I don’t deserve –”

She cut herself off, her jaw twitching once, her face hard and cold, that terrible, terrible feeling in her eyes expanding and expanding until it submerged her whole body. Her head fell back on the seat and her nails dug into her arm.

“You don’t deserve what, Mina?” you asked. Your throat closed up.

She had been laughing, when you had found her. Rory was kicking her with a crazed look on his face and she had been laughing.

“Talk to me,” you pleaded, your voice too thin.

“Why would I want to talk to you?” she snapped contemptuously, her voice laced with poison, but you could see right through her act.

This was an attempt to make you leave, because she could not stand tenderness and care right now. Every fiber in her body was rebelling against love and crying out for pain. She needed to open the gates and let the self-loathing engulf her, for she couldn’t win against it - as one has to dive headfirst into a wave that is so high and so terrifying and cannot be avoided. Sometimes, the only way out is through.    

“Alright,” your voice wavered, “alright, I’ll just sit here next to you, ok? I’m here if you need me.”

It was torture. Staying still as she hurt, and hurt herself, as you waited for her to come back to you, as the whole plane filled up with her pain and anger and it was a miracle it could still fly. You made small talk with her, anything to try and distract her. Your voice wavered again, three, four times. You had lowered the blind on the window nearest you to block out the sick orange light. Wilhemina kept glaring unseeingly at the ceiling. You talked, and talked, and talked, trying to drown out the sound of her loathing that you could hear like the scraping of stormy waves on a shingle beach. And on top of it all was that gnawing feeling of guilt. For you had caused this. Stupid, stupid you, blinded by your own pride.

Slowly, Wilhemina’s body started to relax. Her nails withdrew from her arm. You tentatively offered her the bottle of water again. She scowled at you, but she took the bottle and drank half of it.

The pilot’s voice came out through the intercom, telling you to prepare for landing.

Wilhemina sat up with a wince and fastened her seatbelt. She smoothed her hair and her clothes. You glanced at her, blinking back tears, your mouth too dry.

“Are you ok?” you asked. It was a stupid question, but it flew out of your mouth desperate and urgent before you could stop it.

Her eyes met yours, dark and completely unreadable.

“Of course,” she said.

A tear rolled down your cheek. You wiped it with the back of your hand, nodded.

“I want to address everyone at the Outpost as soon as we arrive,” Wilhemina went on.

You sniffed, offered her a broken smile.

“Ok.”

“They need to be perfectly apprised of the house rules.”

“Alright, you’re right.”

Another tear rolled down your cheek, which you quickly swiped away.

“Please don’t cry,” came Wilhemina’s voice.

“I - sorry,” you said quickly, wiping yet another tear. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

As if your heart wasn’t breaking for her, as if you could ever forget the look in her eyes as she lay still with her nails digging deep into her skin.

There was a short pause, and then Wilhemina took your hand.

“I love you,” she said, as one says ‘it’s okay, I’ll be okay’.

You tried to offer her a smile, but it looked like a grimace, your mouth twisting as if it were full of shards of glass. You squeezed her hand, then raised it to your lips and pressed a long kiss on one of her knuckles.

“I love you, too,” you said, your voice shaking. You breathed in to add “I’m so sorry”, but breathed out wordlessly.

You squeezed Wilhemina’s hand again, swallowing down your guilt. You couldn’t bother her with it now that she was about to take on responsibility for the survival of the human race; you had to be a strong rock she could lean on, not a burden.

You sat on the seat next to Wilhemina’s and fastened your seat belt. Wilhemina raised the blind to peer outside. You turned your head away.

The plane landed, and the pilot came out of the cockpit. He was a tall, stout man with a kind face. You reached out to help Wilhemina get up her seat but she refused your help, shooting you a glance of warning. She stood up straight and proud without so much as a wince of pain, and walked up to the pilot.

He gave Wilhemina a smile and extended his right hand as if to shake to hers. He wore a thin, gold ring on his middle finger that looked very expensive.

“You’ll have to take that off,” Wilhemina said sternly. “Greys are not allowed to wear jewelry.”

“What are Greys?” you and the pilot asked at the exact same time. Wilhemina had not told you anything about the rules at Oupost 3. You had asked, more than once, but she had never answered you, and pretended not to hear you after the third or fourth time.

Wilhemina winked at you. “Our worker hands. “ She glared at the pilot, nodding in your direction. “Your job will be to serve her and the rest of the elite.”

The kindness faded from the pilot’s face.

“I’m not sure I like that,” he muttered.

Wilhemina’s cane tapped on the floor.

“Are you stupid?” she said, in a very slow, threatening voice. “You’re alive. Look around you. The world is no longer. Tell me, what exactly have you done to deserve surviving it?”

“I flew you here, lady,” the pilot grumbled. “You’d be dead without me.”

Wilhemina’s cane tapped on the floor again, louder.

“I’m making the rules here. You can either know your place and follow them, or take your chances, alone, in the nuclear winter.”

The pilot glanced desperately at you. You almost defended him. Part of you wasn’t sure this whole Grey thing was fair. But you could hardly imagine the devastating consequences of your challenging Wilhemina now, when she was finally in a position of power, when she trusted you to back her up. You had hurt her enough for the day.

“You better listen to her,” you said, forcing your voice to sound commanding. The colour drained from the man’s face.

You followed Wilhemina out of the plane – a thick fog was slowly swallowing the world, replacing the sick orange light with a pale grey that looked sicker somehow – and into the outpost. The place was no longer lit by electrical light but by hundreds of candles and every fireplace was alive with huge, crackling fires. You kept your eyes on Wilhemina, alert for signs of pain. There wasn’t any. As you passed a fireplace, the warmth from the fire briefly engulfed you, an unhoped-for comfort, a temporary balm to your heart.

Wilhemina turned left, and suddenly stopped. A small, stout woman with cropped black hair stood in the corridor, her hands crossed in front of her, her eyes two piercing lights ringed with black make-up. She bowed her head respectfully as she saw Wilhemina. Unconsciously you straightened your shoulders. A feeling, not exactly of authority, but of ruthless order oozed out from this woman. If you had to invent her a past, you would say quite confidently that she had spent years in the army as a high-ranked commanding officer.

Wilhemina introduced her as Ms Mead. The woman’s eyes slid to your face and she bowed her head to you, too, a quick, mechanical bending of the neck. She informed Wilhemina everything had been made ready as requested.

“It is so refreshing to work with someone who knows how to take orders and how to be efficient,” Wilhemina told her with an appreciative smile. She gestured towards the nearest door, a bathroom. “I’ll be a minute.”

Tap, tap, tap, went her cane, a cold, sharp sound; in the candlelight her hair was a deep red.

The bathroom door closed behind her. You counted five seconds before you turned to Ms Mead.

“Where’s the doctor?” you whispered urgently. You knew a doctor had been sent to every outpost, to make sure the survivors stayed safe and healthy.

Ms Mead shot you a glance that expressed absolutely nothing.

“Not here,” she answered in a robotic, toneless voice.

“What do you mean, not here?” you insisted, tiny sparks of fear flying up into your chest. Your throat tightened.

“He was supposed to arrive at 3, but he never did.” Ms Mead shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to do without him.”

More sparks, too many sparks. You almost screamed at her.

“My best guess is,” Ms Mead went on, entirely unaware of the frantic storm rising in you, “he decided to stay behind with his family. To die a useless death among his loved ones instead of taking on the honorable duty of caring for the survivors.”

“Some people are incredibly selfish,” came Wilhemina’s voice.

You jumped, turning around sharply as Wilhemina’s proud figure loomed up on your left side. “Ms Mead, gather everyone in the music room,” she ordered. “We’ll join them shortly.”

Ms Mead nodded and walked off. You glanced up nervously at Wilhemina.

“For the hundredth time, Y/N, I’m fine,” Wilhemina scolded.

You glanced up at her, scanned her face for any trace of pain, but it was completely blank. You glanced down at her hands. They rested on top of each other on the knob of her cane.

You glanced up at her face again. You figured she had no broken ribs, since she could move, and she was breathing just fine so probably nothing had damaged or punctured her lungs, but what if she were hemorrhaging, or what if she had broken something and was being very good at hiding it? That seemed to you very likely.

“Y/N?”

“What?” Your voice shot out too nervous, too aggressive.

Wilhemina’s face hardened. Tap, threatened her cane.

“We have no doctor,” you started. Your throat was so tight with fear it was a miracle your voice could get through.

“So I heard.”

“Wilhemina, someone needs to make sure you’re okay. And what will we do without a doctor? Oh God, Mina, and what about your back and what if –“

“None of that,” Wilhemina cut you off sharply. “Y/N, you need to calm down. I am fine.” She paused. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. “We survived the Apocalypse, Y/N. Now I need you to calm down, get a grip on yourself, and go and join the others in the music room. “

You closed your eyes, forced yourself to take a few deep breaths. I’m sorry, said your heart to hers, praying, praying it would hear, I’m so sorry.  

You walked into the music room in a haze, barely registering the hum of worried voices and the few “Hello”s that were thrown your way. You collapsed on an armchair in a corner and buried your face in your hands. Tried to focus on your breathing. Images and sounds flashed in your mind; Wilhemina’s laugh as Rory kicked her, that terrible look in her eyes, her nails digging into her skin. Your eyes flew open as one wakes from a nightmare.

A young, fashionable man wearing sunglasses with purple-tinted lenses was staring at you. He didn’t look particularly worried, just interested.

“Are you alright, dear?” he asked in a mellow voice.

“Never better,” you growled.

“Aw,” the man said, “I know how it feels. I was supposed to fucking die in L.A.. It’s a stroke of luck I’m here, a stroke of luck. That, and my friend Coco’s crocodile wallet.” The man sat down on a chair next to you. His musky, minty perfume tickled your nose – it was so out-of-place, this smell, reminded you of lavishness and exuberance and self-confidence. If Outpost 3 had a smell, it would be that of the smoke of a candle that has just fizzled out.

The man, who introduced himself as a hairdresser, kept on talking, but you stopped listening. Your eyes scanned the people in the room, one face after the other, features blurring into each other, your brain unable to register details and to make observations. Your hands were sweaty. Your eyes fell on the familiar face of the pilot. Before you knew it you had abruptly stood up and walked to him, the hairdresser’s mouth falling open in consternation, his eyes glaring at your back through his purple-tinted sunglasses.

“Hey,” you said to the pilot. He had watched you approach with weary eyes, his lips a thin, tight, angry line. He acknowledged your presence with a stiff nod. “I wanted to thank you,” you went on, forcing your mouth into a smile. “For waiting for us. You didn’t have to.”

The pilot pursed his lips. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have,” he grumbled, but there was no hostility in his voice. His fingers started playing with a loose thread on his coat. “I guess I’m just too kind for my own good.”

“Um,” you pretended to consider his words. “I think the world would have fared better if there had been more kind people in it. You know, people who take the trouble to wait those extra five minutes to help others, instead of running for their lives.” You tried for another smile, and this time it came more easily.

The pilot glanced up at you suspiciously, but the kindness was returning to his face. “What’s going to happen, now?” he asked after a pause.

“I don’t really know.”

“The man who boarded the plane just before you did said such improper, rude things about the redhead, and even though she didn’t give me any reason to like her, I don’t think folks should –“

“Excuse me,” you cut the pilot off, your heart suddenly freezing in your chest, “what man?”

“Young fellow, the one sitting over there. He appeared out of nowhere saying he’d missed his transportation to Outpost 2 and he begged me to let him in, I couldn’t just leave him to his death.”

There was not a single drop of blood left in your veins. Your heart was steadily pumping ice, biting, burning ice that froze every thought and every emotion in your brain except anger – and the anger spread. It spread everywhere, sprang from your body and crashed against the ceiling and the walls where it crystallized into sharp, fang-like icicles.

Rory had not seen you yet. He was comforting a crying young woman when you reached him, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and half jerked him up on his feet. His eyes met yours in surprise as you growled into his face, “Boarding this plane was the worst mistake you ever made.” Rory tried to draw away but you tightened your grip on him and leaned in closer still, your breath ghosting his lips. “I swear to God, Rory, I’m going to turn your pathetic life into a nightmare and there will be blood.”

A loud tap cut you off. Both Rory and you jumped. Wilhemina had just entered the room, standing proud and dominating, her complexion warm in the candlelight, her eyes very dark. She had changed into a black Victorian-esque dress that brushed regally over the floor, with a high collar of intricate white lacework hugging her graceful, long neck. Her hair no longer was in her signature high ponytail but wrapped up into a perfectly centered, sophisticated bun. She looked so strong, so imposing, so perfectly in control of everything down to the dust that danced in the candlelight, that your fingers loosened their grip on Rory’s collar. You stepped away from him. Not in fear, not in defeat, but rather as a young predator respectfully makes way for the alpha that silently crawls through the grass towards the defenseless prey grazing in the shade.

Wilhemina’s gaze fell on Rory. Her eyes were as bottomless and terrifying as the inside of a cave sunlight never reaches. For Rory it meant there would be no peace, no warmth,   no salvation. Another tap of her cane, and Rory flinched. Actually took a step towards you for protection.

Wilhemina walked up to him, her upper body gracefully swaying from side to side as it always did, her gait as nonchalant and powerful as a big cat’s. She stopped a few inches away from Rory and rested both hands on the knob of her cane.

“Welcome,” she breathed in his face, “to Outpost 3.”

You grinned. In the dark building with devastation outside the doors and despair within you grinned, warmth like that of a fire in a cold winter night spreading down your body and wrapping soothingly around your heart. Wilhemina’s eyes briefly shifted to yours. Oh, she would be alright. You lowered your head, staring down at the ugly floor to hide the pride and relief that painted themselves all across your face and twinkled in your eyes. Caught in the eye of a tornado this woman would be alright and with the flick of her fingers bend the howling winds to her command.

Rory’s body looked like it had lost several inches and pounds. Probably part of him had fled in fear. He gulped, tried to maintain eye contact with Wilhemina, failed, stared down at his feet as heat flooded his face.

“Unless I’m mistaken, you’re not on my list,” Wilhemina went on. Her voice was melodic, as if she were about to break into a song. “Take him to the cell,” she ordered a giant of a woman who stood in the doorway. The woman grabbed Rory and dragged him out of the room. His eyes shot a frightened look your way before he disappeared, the darkness swallowing his pale and quivering form.

A hush had fallen upon the room. Everyone stood rigid with their eyes lowered respectfully or inspecting a piece of furniture or the ceiling or their own fingers. You saw the hairdresser glance up at Wilhemina, curious and intimidated, his gaze lingering no more than a second on her face before focusing back on the cuff of his right sleeve.

Wilhemina tapped her cane on the floor and briefly introduced herself in a firm, authoritative voice. Her eyes coldly scanned the room as she talked, explaining what the Cooperative was, how hard they had worked to save the human race, how grateful the survivors should be, how humbled. Before explaining the house rules she reminded everyone that survival required order and strict obedience. She would be ruthless, she assured them sternly. Anyone who broke the rules would be kicked out of the building or immediately shot.

You frowned at that. Death seemed too extreme a punishment. Just as the thought crossed your mind, an old woman voiced it in consternation. Wilhemina’s gaze fell on her and a cold, condescending smile grazed her lips.

“It would be too extreme in the world we used to know,” she said very slowly. “But here, we are the last vestige of the human race. Error and insubordination simply cannot be tolerated, not when they could result in the complete eradication of our species.”

Hierarchy is the key, Wilhemina went on. In Outpost 3, everyone would know their place. Here she paused to unfold a piece of paper and slowly read out the names of “the Elite” and of “those who would serve them”, the Purples and the Greys respectively. You nervously shifted your weight from one foot to the other. Hushed whispers were exchanged before another sharp tap of Wilhemina’s cane commanded silence.

There would be no leaving the building. Greys and Purples alike would be on a strict timetable. Each Purple would be attributed a Grey to serve and obey them. Here a few voices rose in protest, but quickly died down. Good manners and proper dressing should be observed, for appearances did wonders on one’s morale. There should be no indulging in improper activities, and no unauthorized copulation.

Your jaw dropped open at that.

“Excuse me?” the hairdresser exclaimed, his voice louder and clearer than all the others which chimed in angry protest. “It’s already Hell down here, no need to make it worse!“

“Now that’s bullshit,” you heard yourself growl.

Wilhemina’s eyes met yours. “I said,” she enunciated, “no unauthorized copulation.”

Oh. Your shoulders relaxed. You bit down on a smirk. You swore, Wilhemina’s mouth twitched just so, as if she, too, were holding back a smug smile.

After that, Ms Mead was ordered to show everyone to their rooms. You lingered behind as the others crowded to the door, voices grumbling and shoulders bending in defeat, like a pack of children gathering for class after recess. Wilhemina watched them leave, and then she turned on her heel and disappeared in the corridor.

You followed her, assuming a nonchalant expression, sticking your hands into your pockets. Wilhemina walked into the bedroom she had chosen for herself and you on your first visit of the Outpost. You glanced right and left, then followed her inside.

As soon as you closed the door, Wilhemina sat heavily on the bed, her shoulders sagging, and closed her eyes. You kneeled in front of her, peering up worriedly at her.

“Are you okay? Are you hurting? Wilhemina, are you okay?” you inquired urgently, your hands coming up to cup her face.

A soft smile slowly spread over her lips, and her eyes fluttered open. “I’m fine, Y/N,” she answered, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

You scrambled up to your feet and sat on the bed next to her, pressing your shoulder to hers, reaching for her hand.

“You should lie down,” you urged, ”have some rest. You did so much, Mina you did so good.”

She closed her eyes again, and shook her head.

“I don’t have time to rest, Y/N. I need to make sure everyone is settling in properly.”

“Let me do it,” you offered, pushing your palm to hers and lacing your fingers together. “I can do it. You lie down and I’ll see to everything.”

She let out a sigh and rested her head on your shoulder.

“I’m grateful for the offer, Y/N, but you have no idea how this place is to be run. Besides, it’s not your job.”

Her head was pressing more and more heavily on your shoulder. She looked so exhausted, so vulnerable in contrast to her earlier show of strength and power that you felt fear clench at your throat once more.

You wrapped one arm around her shoulders to support her and she let her body sag against your side. She buried her face in the crook of your neck and let out one shaky breath that tickled your skin.

“Where did he hurt you?” you asked in a whisper, nuzzling into her hair.

Something wet rolled down your neck. There was silence, broken by a sniffle and then Wilhemina’s voice, barely audible, “My stomach and ribs feel like they’re broken into pieces.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, breathed out angrily through your nose and gently stroked your thumb over her shoulder, back and forth.

“Let me have a look?” you tried softly.

She shook her head. “It’s not pretty.”

“I don’t care,” you retorted, the words leaving your mouth confident and strong.

Wilhemina pulled herself away from you as if she meant to stand, but she stayed on the bed, making no effort to straighten her shoulders. She sighed, lifted one hand to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I really do have to go,” she said. She opened one eye to look at you. “You can play the doctor tonight when my day is done.”

You watched her as she stood up and scrutinized her reflection in the mirror, smoothing her left hand over her dress, tilting her head on one side then the other, tugging at her right sleeve that rode up her arm.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” you whispered, so low you thought she could not hear you, but her eyes met yours in the mirror. The next words left your mouth coated with such sadness and so heavy with guilt it was a miracle they made it all the way to Wilhemina. “I’m so sorry I didn’t take Mutt’s warning seriously. I was wrong about Rory, and I put you in danger, and I can’t -” Your voice trailed off. You closed your eyes, unable to hold Wilhemina’s gaze, and gulped back tears.

For a few, agonizingly long seconds, there was only silence. Stupid, you scolded yourself, not for the first time today. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You had sworn to yourself you would not burden Wilhemina with your useless feelings of guilt, sworn you would keep them to yourself. You kept putting her in uncomfortable, dangerous situations and you –

There was the sound of Wilhemina’s cane, the rustle of her dress, and then you felt warmth on your cheeks as her hands cupped your face.

“It wasn’t your fault, Y/N,” you heard her voice, soft and loving. You opened your eyes. Wilhemina’s brow was slightly pushed up, her eyes were big and very brown and God, how you loved her eyes. You leaned in, as if to dive into them. “Please don’t hold yourself responsible for anything that happened today.”

You were about to protest, but you closed your mouth at the last second and kept the words captive. No burdening her, you reminded yourself sharply. She already had so much to carry. So you gave her a smile instead, hoping it looked convincing; it must have, for Wilhemina let go of your face and drew away.  

You watched her walk slowly to the door, pressed your lips tightly closed as another apology violently slammed against them, desperate for a way out. No burdening her. Wilhemina stopped in front of the door, straightened her back and shoulders, and took a deep breath. She stood as regal and powerful as you had ever seen her, the candlelight dancing in awe on her hair.

She put one hand on the door handle, offered you a smile like a bouquet of flowers, opened the door, and walked off.

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Ch. 2

Shigaraki Birthday Celebration! 18+ MINORS DNI

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader 

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, brief male masturbation, tags will be added for smut in the next two parts

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which studying is done, unwilling connections are made, and Tomura thinks about the way you smell a totally normal amount. 

AO3 mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg​ (just shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged!

Tomura hadn’t stopped staring at his phone since he left the apartment. It was second nature by now—head down at a nearly ninety degree angle, hoodie pulled up to hide hair he hadn’t bothered to comb in weeks, and phone out, held just far enough away that he could see the pavement behind the screen. 

He’d found that people tended to naturally avoid him this way and he didn’t have to risk accidentally making eye contact. It was still a bit nerve wracking to venture into buildings he didn’t expressly have to for classes, so he was still hesitant to make the voyage from his apartment to the library.  But he’d made the mistake of mentioning plans to his roommate and the bastard wouldn’t leave him alone about it afterwards until he was practically shoved out with the door locked behind him. 

He was half tempted to make up some excuse last minute and go hide out at the only cafe on campus he could tolerate, but Tomura knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Biting the bullet now would help to not prolong his suffering. 

Your text thread glared up at him in stark white on blue as he pushed past a crowd of students by the library entrance and flashed his ID to the attendant. 

Group Project Bitch:

— hey I got us a room on the third floor, all the way in the back

—text me when you’re here I’ll wave you in, it’s kinda hard to find T-T

                                                                                                     sounds good— 

He shot off a quick text to you that he was hoping on the elevator. The other two guys in the lift may have given him a dirty look for only going up to the third floor, but Tomura sure as hell wasn’t going to risk the physical exertion of stares when just the thought being stuck in a small room alone with you for god knows how long already had him sweating. 

When he stepped out, you were leaned against one of the 90s-green shelves, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. He panicked momentarily, thinking he’d have to get your attention cause just walking up without saying anything would be weird right? 

He wasn’t sure. 

He didn’t do shit like this. 

Thankfully, you looked up at the chime of the lift and waved him over. His red sneakers squeaked as they scuffed the linoleum floors and he already regretted choosing his tighter fitting pair of sweats. The tapered legs that hugged his ankles and thin calves rubbed against his skin and stung the raw patches. 

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you said softly and he nodded, following as you began to weave through the stacks. “Sorry it was short notice, graduation’s coming up so I'm swamped with meetings.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t have anything going on.” 

He cringed internally at the way his voice cracked, trying to keep the usual rasp to a minimum. His roommate said it was from the innumerable hours he spent shouting at his monitor or on discord, which was probably true but to you he was sure he just sounded like a fucking teenager. 

“Cool, I’ve been set up for awhile so feel free to move some stuff,” you talked a bit louder now that you’d both stepped into the study room and shut the door. 

Tomura looked around. You’d snagged one of the nicer ones at least, with the big monitors he could cast his screen onto and those comfy chairs he liked but could never beat anyone too on the lower floors. 

You were right, there was shit all over the big table at the center of the room. Notes and printed out readings with highlights galore and sticky notes littering the pages were scattered all over. What a show off. You probably tossed all this stuff out so he’d think you were actually intelligent or some shit. 

Kicking a pile off of the nearest plush armchair, Tomura took a seat and pulled his laptop out. There was a jack in the middle of the table and you plugged yours in to cast onto the big monitor. 

You made a fucking power point for him. 

This couldn’t be real. 

“So I know I ran some stuff by you in class but essentially I was thinking we make like a simple Twine type thing using the rhetorical argument Swift is making…” 

You started rambling again and Tomura almost immediately tuned you out. His eyes drifted between the rough outline you were flicking through on the board and the laptop you had your nose buried in. 

It was covered in stickers, pretty obviously stereotypical for someone as obsessed with being ‘cool’ as you clearly were. But as he scanned through the various old meme phrases and aesthetic shit, he caught a couple of game references he recognized and a panel cutout from one of his favorite manga. 

He almost fell into your trap for a moment, feeling a rush at the prospect of someone—much less a chick—being into his main hyperfixations. 

But it was quickly crushed under everything his years trolling subreddits had taught him. People like you didn’t actually have interests beyond the attention and dick it got them. Plus that manga was pretty popular anyway, you probably didn’t even read it, just thought the line was funny or made you sound quirky. That had to be why you felt the need to drop it in your first texts. 

“What do you think?” you asked, making good on your new habit of startling the hell out of him. 

Tomura blinked, gaze instinctively turning to you but the blatant way you stared made his mouth turn to sand paper, so he looked resolutely back at the color-coded bullet points on the screen. 

“Look’s fine,” he mumbled. 

The more he glanced over it, the more it actually did look fine. A bit more than fine, really, which pissed him off even more. The little choose-your-own debate style story was not a terrible way to make fucking Whatever Swift interesting and it kinda looked like you’d bothered to google some simple coding which gave him a better idea of what you were looking for. 

It was...good. 

And that so fucking annoying. 

Well, he wasn’t sure if annoying was the right word for it, but the proposal coupled with your apparent lack of disgust at working with him made his face hot and that only ever happened otherwise when his roommate left the dishes out for weeks or when some newb on his server fucked up their raids. 

Then, you had the audacity to plop down in the chair next to him and— 

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want,” you began, shuffling in the chair to cross your legs on the cushion, “but I was hoping you’d be willing to show me how you do some of the coding stuff? I tried on my own, but I have literally no clue what I’m doing.” 

He could smell you again, like the whole fucking health and beauty aisle at the grocery store. When he turned his head a bit to look at you around the curtain of his hair, you were crooked—back against the armrest and facing him. 

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, sounding a bit less rude than he would have liked to. 

You just fucking stared right at him though, didn’t wrinkle your nose at how greasy his roots were or how he was wearing the same hoodies as yesterday. 

“I’ve always been interested in it, but my program is kinda stressful and I don’t have much free time so I never learned,” you offered and for once Tomura found he didn’t feel his skin crawl under your unwavering gaze. 

The dry, cracked area around his eyes burned though as sweat beaded on his forehead and he quickly wiped at his face with a loose sweatshirt sleeve. The garment hung off his shoulders, bought a size too big that he never ended up growing into. 

“What’s your major?” 

He found the words slipped easily from him. It was the quintessential question you asked of anyone in college when you met, but he’d never been interested in the answer before. 

You babbled a bit about your specific area of study and your voice was surprisingly not as infuriating as he remembered it being before. It was softer, he thought, than when you were soapboxing in class about the sexist implications of old as fuck poetry—it had a less grating quality and was almost pleasing to the ear. 

Or Tomura would have said that if he thought you deserved the compliment. 

But, obviously you didn’t. 

So he didn’t. 

He just pretended to care about what you were saying and didn’t hang onto every word at all. Actually he was more enraptured in the way your lips moved when you talked. You used your hands a lot too, but his eyes were ensnared on the way your mouth quirked and dipped, at the occasional flash of your tongue between strong teeth. When he leaned in a bit, he could smell your breath too: fruity gum and the remnants of whatever you were always drinking in that loud as fuck cup. He wondered now what exactly it was, so he could buy it and get a better idea of what you mouth might taste—

Nope. 

No, see this was exactly what he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. How were you doing this to him? What a fucking slut. 

Tomura steeled his nerves as you started explaining the extracurriculars you did on the side. 

“My roommate freshman year actually started a gaming club and so I’ve gotten more into that over the years,” you explained, pointing at the stickers on your laptop case. 

“Are you talking about The League?” 

“Yeah, I didn’t know if you’d heard of it,” you shrugged.  

He knew of the gaming club on campus. He’d thought about joining when he enrolled but the allure of anonymity online gaming provided was too strong. Plus his discord server didn’t have annoying weekly meetings. 

The thought of you, up late and illuminated by the blue light of a tv screen, tucked away in one of the basement rooms in the media building was...strange. It also prompted an array of new images—you in those fucking cat ear headsets, seated in his lap as he trashed you in Mario Kart which was even stranger. 

Tomura had to physically shake his head to dislodge the thought. 

“Uh, we should probably work on this right?” he cringed at the way his voice cracked compared to your own, smooth tone. 

You should narrate those fucking sleepy time mediation things. His roommate used to hide wireless speakers in his room and blast those when Tomura stayed up too late. It was annoying as shit then, but if it was you talking, he probably wouldn’t have minded so much. 

Or no, no he would definitely mind. 

Yes. It would have been worse if anything. 

“Oh shit, you right. It’s been like two hours.” 

He glanced down at his laptop and saw that it had, indeed, been two hours since he got there. He’d willingly spoken to you for two goddamn hours. It felt like no time had passed at all, but the sun was definitely setting, the overhead fluorescent bulbs taking over as the main light source in the room. 

Weird. 

So you settled back in your chair, typing away like you always did, but the sound wasn’t nearly as frustrating as before. Occasionally, you’d glance over his shoulder and ask questions about what he was working on, but mostly the two of you settled into a comfortable silence. 

This pattern continued for the next few weeks. As the weather warmed, you began to show a bit more skin. He never worked up the nerve to comment on the thick expanse of bare thigh that tapered off nicely into your calf, or the curve of your arms not hidden behind knit sweaters—hell even your fucking shoulders were hard not to look at. 

Maybe all those high school dress codes weren’t actually so full of shit after all. Cause he was definitely distracted by the way your neck swooped into the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your back on more than one occasion.

Did all girls know that? Was it some kind of massive conspiracy to crumble the patriarchy or some crap to go flashing bare shoulders everywhere? 

Regardless if you really were trying to hypnotize him into liking you, Tomura stayed resolutely in his monochrome, long sleeved attire, and if you noticed the behavior you never said a word. 

Never said a word about his allergy ridden skin, peeling lips or scarred throat. Never commented on his terrible posture or said his eyes were creepy. Even when he’d occasionally toss a negative remark your way, you never retaliated maliciously. Just brushed him off with a jovial ‘don’t be a dick’ and a playful, but hard slap to his chest or the back of his head. 

The two of you always met in the same, secluded room on the third floor. You’d talk with him in class sometimes or shoot him texts about random bits of inspiration or a late night game memes, but for the most part, your conversations were confined to that room. He found he preferred the study room ‘you’ best. You weren’t as stiff. There was more of a solidity to you, like he’d seen when you told off that Kai bastard. 

It...grew on him. 

He was irrationally anxious that there would be a time when you couldn’t secure this particular room—with it’s big monitor and comfy chairs and less annoying ‘you’—but he’d been reassured after your third work session. 

Someone had knocked softly at the thick, wooden door and a head of wild, bright pink hair peaked around the crack. 

“Sup bro,” the intruder quipped, as they stepped fully into the room. 

“Hey, Spinner,” you mumbled back, looking up momentarily from the essay portion of your presentation before going back to typing. 

Spinner had seemed to notice him at that point and offered a small wave in his direction. “Oh hey, sorry, thought you were alone,” he said quickly. 

“Nah, this is Tomura,” you said, glancing up again and jerking your thumb in his direction. 

Tomura nodded and tugged at his hoodie strings to stop from scratching under the newcomer’s gaze. He’d gotten used to you, but other people still made him a bit nervous. 

“Nice to meet you,” Spinner had a nice smile, bright and flashy when he spoke. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, looking around the room. “You got the nice one, huh. How’d you manage that?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you half closed your laptop and stretched a bit. “Jin was working the front desk, so I’ve just been bribing him with vending machine snacks.” 

“He hasn’t gotten himself fired yet?” Spinner laughed incredulously, but not unkindly. 

“Surprisingly not, but he’s completely corrupt now,” you were picking at the cuticle of your thumb and Tomura fixated on the way the skin split off at the nail. Just like his. “A couple packs of chips and a Monster and I get the most bitchin study room whenever I want.” 

“Damn,” Spinner chuckled again and Tomura really wished that he’d leave already. He was beginning to feel himself fading into the upholstery as the conversation left him in the dust. The divergence of your attention away from him or the project was even more annoying that you were. “Well, are you coming to The League meeting tonight? We’re busting out a Smash tournament.” 

“That’s tonight?” you asked, eyes perking up but sliding subtly in Tomura’s direction. “Sorry, I think Tomura and I are gonna be working on this project for a while longer and I’m kinda burnt out. But next time, yeah?”

Spinner rolled his eyes but nodded and kicked off the wall. “That’s not very sexy of you,” he chided and waved a hand in parting. “Gonna work yourself directly into the fucking grave.” 

“Jokes on you, I welcome death.” 

You buried yourself in the screen again and Tomura actually felt a bit grateful for you ending the conversation before he got too painfully awkward. 

But Spinner stopped before he left, looking Tomura up and down from the frayed strings of his black hoodie to the tips of his worn red sneakers. 

“Nice to meet you, man,” he said with a wide grin. “Feel free to tag along next time if you want, we always need more players.” 

The door clicked softly shut behind him and Tomura relaxed back into the silence.

He did end up tagging along—though he spent most of the time hanging off your heels like a lost puppy—to the next meeting of your gaming club and the one after that. Frustratingly enough, he learned that your interests did also extend into skills as you almost bested him in a few rounds Smash. Your profile, lit only by the flashing screen lights, was even more striking outside of his imagined imitations. 

So much so that it found its way into his head late at night when he was too tired to log onto his server. So much so that it had his cock growing firm and tenting his grey sweats without even the visual aid of his go to porn clips. So much so that sometimes, he felt inclined to do something about the throbbing between his legs. So much so that he thought about the way you picked the skin by your fingers. How it looked like his. How your hand might feel like his but softer. Smoother around the edges. With your sweet voice whispering in his ear, making him whine and pant and spill white ropes of release onto his stomach. 

But it was only because you were hot. 

And you were practically begging for him to jack off to the thought of you with those outfits and liking all the shit he liked and noticing when he shrunk away from conversations or including him in them when he started to feel that awful sense of fading into the background. 

Yeah. 

Everybody jerks it sometimes to their group project partners if their ass is nice enough. 

Right?