#even if they turn out to be good in some twisted way

[shouyuus]

Pitfighter!vi who makes you keep eye contact with her and say her name while she fucks you because she wants you to know that it’s HER who’s making you feel that good 🙏 (request ish but also responding to the vi thirsts thingy)

i... have such a thing for eye contact!vi u have no idea.

18+, mndi, smut, slight angst, and fluff at the end

"eyes on me, princess --" she says, twisting your jaw towards her as she fucks her fingers into you, her makeup in black streaks running down her cheeks, her skin peppered with cuts and bruises, fat and dark as summer plums.

you whine, blinking up at her, your lashes clumped with salt as she fucks you through the nth orgasm that night, and you know that it's one of the bad nights, one of those nights where she comes home angry off a loss and already drunk. you bite your lips, her name trembling on the tip of your tongue even as she forces your mouth open to bury her own groans in the depth of your throat.

"moan for me --" she says, her voice a honey-bee's rasp against your lips, thick and syrup-sweet, but just as suffocating, the way it slicks across your tongue, "say my name --" she breathes.

you hiss, eyes squeezing shut as her dull nails scrape along your inner walls, making your legs kick out, your belly roiling within you at the relentless pressure.

"vi --" you force out, the breath punching from you as she angles her fingers up into that one gummy spot inside you that has you keening.

"i said look --" she clasps her whole hand around your jaw, squeezing so tight your mouth falls open, spit collecting at the corners of your mouth, "at --" she thrusts three fingers into you, "me."

you force your eyes open to meet her gaze -- and it's well-dark depths. you make a noise somewhere between a sob and a whimper, feeling her fingers digging into the soft plush of your cheeks as she gives you face a tiny little shake.

"vi, please --" and you don't even know what you're begging for anymore. mercy, perhaps, or just some kind of absolution. she stares at you, her gaze flickering from one eye to the other, as if searching for the answer there to a question she's never had courage enough to ask out loud.

finally, she lets you go, and your head thumps back against the pillows, though your hand reaches out to clasp around her wrists as she holds you by the hips and fucks you into the mattress, groaning when she feels you clamp down around her.

she laces her fingers with yours, this one single tenement of softness, as she groans, feeling you come apart around her.

she doesn't say much as she pulls out of you, staring at the shiny slick that coats her skin, brings it to her lips for a taste before shooting you a sharp, crescent-moon grin.

"violet..."

and she stills at the sound of your voice wrapped around the full weight of her name -- like a wish, or a promise. she sighs, leaning down to drop a kiss to your shoulder. you sit up, your fingers still linked through hers.

"it was a bad night," she'd say, looking anywhere but at you, pulling away to run her hands under the murky water from her tiny sink. you watch her from the bed, the mattress nothing more than a few stacks of cushions shoved together, empty bottles littering the floor.

"yeah?" you ask, shifting back a few inches as she settles on the edge of the bed, her head hung low. you reach forward, waiting for her to pull away. but when she doesn't, you curl yourself around the bend of her back and press your cheek to her shoulder, careless of the inky black paint that transfers from her skin to yours.

she lets you hold her for a few, long, solid minutes. they slick by like river water, made thick with silt or shimmer. you trace your fingers along the dark, smudged-out shapes of her tattoos -- and you think to yourself that she's beautiful -- even like this, broken and bruised and so, so angry.

"look at me," you whisper, turning her head with a finger, and she gives a the tiniest bit of resistance before letting you coax her face towards yours, her eyes bright in the slantwise light.

the moon slits a scimitar sliver through the sky, and down here, even the stars take on a sickly purple glow. but, as vi looks you over, allows herself the pleasure of admiring your face, she thinks that you somehow have the gall to be beautiful, even now.

she doesn't stop to think that you might be thinking the same of her.

you are.

"have you got a fight tomorrow?" you ask, reaching out to trace a thumb across the smudged paint on her cheeks. your finger comes away dark, but the tattoo beneath her eye's just a bit more visible now. she shakes her head.

"no. medic said i've gotta take a few days off."

she scoffs, her gaze cutting away.

"good," you say, "a break is good."

"i don't need a break," she gruffs, and you laugh.

"i know. but... that means you can sleep in tomorrow."

she quirks an eyebrow, "i can sleep in any day i want. the fights don't start till --"

"i know, vi -- i'm just saying," you say, imploring as a grin twitches over her lips, "we can... do something together, if you'd like."

vi blinks, "we?"

you purse your lips, looking down at where your fingers are inches from hers.

"unless --"

"yeah. no -- i mean -- it's fine. we -- we can."

and for a second, she sounds so nervous, so uncertain, that you almost laugh. because since when has vi been this bashful in your presence? but when you look up again, it's to catch her watching you with a strange, halfway light in her eyes. and you're not sure if it's the moon or the stars, or simply the cheap alcohol eating through both your veins, but you fancy that it looks just a little bit like affection, stained at the edges with tenderness.

it spreads warmth through your limbs, and tingles at your nose and your fingertips.

"okay then," you say, nodding, even as she pushes you back onto her makeshift mattress and slots her lips over yours once more.

the kiss is long, but soft. and when she pulls away, you're both just a bit breathless. though, not on the heavy, panting way you usually are off the deep, desperate kisses she gives you. no, this is something sweeter, something lighter. something that tastes very much like heartache at the back of your tongue.

"c'mere..." you say, tugging her into you even as the pair of your collapse onto her bed, her rucking the thin blanket haphazardly over the shape of your bodies, nothing more than a tangle of limbs, her cheek pillowed against your sternum, her lengthening hair tickling your chin.

you run a few fingers through the rough patches at the sides of her head.

"the dye's coming out."

vi grunts, her body heavy as she sinks into the heat of your embrace.

"whatever. let it grow."

you grin to yourself, thinking that you'd always loved the natural color of her hair -- bright as rubies in the hungering dark. but as you thread your fingers through them again and again, vi shifts against you, looping her arms around your middle to pull you into her.

she mumbles something into the skin of your chest that you don't quite catch.

"hm?" you ask, leaning down.

she sighs, her breath hot as it washes over your collarbones.

"you'll still be here in the morning, yeah?"

you pause, wondering for a second if it's a question or a plea.

you let out a tiny laugh.

"if you want me to be, then... yeah. i will."

vi only curls her fingers against your waist. she burrows her face more deeply into your chest, holding you close, and then closer.

"right," she says, shifting till the both of you are comfortable, "yeah," she adds after a few more seconds.

then, she lifts her head to look at you, her eyes catching yours in the dust-stricken moonlight -- and you can swear that she's smiling.

"good."

"goodnight, violet," you whisper, as her eyelids flutter shut, and she softens against you.

"night, princess. see you in the morning..." she says, her voice quiet and just a bit slurred.

"yeah. see you then."

[blackdykegirlblogger]

vi who is the biggest, fattest, meanest bottom leaning switch of all time. i don’t make the rules, fortiche does. i always knew girlie pop was a switch, but originally i assumed she was more top leaning if anything. but then s2 came along….i don’t even ship caitvi but that kiss???? changed my perspective on a lotttttt of things. 

she was also a stone cold virgin when yall first got together. she’s gotten a smooch or two from some pretty girls around the lanes when she was younger (maybe had the chance to grab a tit here and there. maybe.), but outside of that? she’s never been touched. 

it’s not that she’s unattractive or that she doesn’t have options, she’s just traumatized with extremely strong attachment issues (which i honestly feel like isn't acknowledged enough). trust me, plenty of fine candidates have attempted to shoot their shots over the years. and maybe she would talk to a girl or two for a little bit, testing the waters and such, but it never lasted very long.

this. bitch. whimpers.

^^^ at even the slightest of touches. try it out. stroke her hair, adjust the collar on one of her jackets, kiss her on the cheek. she sounds like a kicked puppy.

like previously stated, while she doesn’t top as often as most fics would have you believe, she’s still a switchy switch at heart. she’s also an absolute demon with the strap, don’t get it twisted.

she will turn your stomach inside out and leave you unable to walk for several days afterwards. she will grind your cunt against her thigh until you’ve soaked the fabric of her pants. and she will slurp on your clit like it’s a damn jolly rancher for hours at a time. don’t test her. please test her. 

anyways back to her being a bottom <3

she has pretty pierced nipples! tug on them with your mouth and she will cream her pants in record time. she’s also against wearing bras ever at any point in time, so they always poke through whatever shirt she’s wearing. (not counting pitfighter! vi, in which case she binds her tits with bandages. the point still stands tho).

as a matter of fact, it’s actually a running gag between the two of you. she’s an ass girl (I DON’T MAKE THE RULES), and you’re more of a tittie lover yourself. she slaps your ass whenever you’re bent over or walking by, and you pinch and twist at her nips until they’re pebbled and sore. 

has the stamina of a fucking horse, regardless of if she’s above or below you (or behind you hehe). the type of mf to finally agree to take a break 3 rounds in for like 4 mins, and before you know it she’s looking at you with those big sparkly eyes asking if you’re ready to go again. smh damn nympho. 

is actually a puppy dog. like, when she isn't at the gym she is 100% glued to your hip at all times. you say jump, she leaps. you say run, she sprints faster than usain bolt. you say "vi can i have a little head 🥺" and the bitch doesn't come up for air for the next 3 hours.

she will deny having a favorite position until she's out of breath, but secretly she lovessss her some backshots. like i said earlier, she loves her some ASS. and what better way to admire yours than constantly slamming it back into her hips until you're sore?

backshots with her sound like fucking bombs going off but moving on

is a squirter <3 now it doesn't happen very often and you really have to wreck her in order to get her there but when you finally do? she becomes a watergun. she hates talking about it or even admitting that it happened but you think it's the hottest thing in the world (vi squirt on me pls-)

has a daddy kink lwk but that's like a special feature you can unlock after being with her for a good amount of time (maybe like a few months or so).

will give strap but has reservations about actually taking it. getting finger fucked until she's crossed eyed? yup. head until she passes out? fuck yeah! tribbing until she's whimpering and begging you to cum all over her? sounds like a perfect friday night. what who said that . but idk, as evil as her strap game is...the idea of getting that energy thrown her way intimidates her. but hey, that's between her and her therapist.

vi's body is actually tea and we as a fandom don't appreciate it enough. it's always "caitlyn kirramountains" this and "thick thighs sevika" that, but are we ignoring how this bitch is shaped like a damn hourglass???? her ass is fat, waist is gone and she just loves whenever you take the time to acknowledge it. bc of this she ADORESSSSSSSSSSS body worship bro. like she melts for it.

[catsoupki]

i think that when bakugou confessed to you in UA, there were two possibilities. that’s it. he either confessed by pure accident, that could’ve been resulted by so many different reasons but i think the most probable would be denki getting bakugou drunk without his knowledge and suddenly all this tipsiness got to him—

syllables and fricatives slur out of his lips as he stretches like a cat across your lap— your best friend is flushed with alcohol while denki laughs his ass off, you’re put into a really awkward position. you try to lift him up, but a relaxed jumble of limbs is harder to manoeuvre, let alone the fact that they belong to a hero in training with 80 kg of mostly lean muscle mass.

“come on, katsu, come on, let’s go and get you in bed” grunts trace your breath along with pleads that go in one ear and out the other.

“nghh, no” some semblance of consciousness seems to have come as he drags you back down to the sofa, muffling your midriff with his body.

mina, eijirou and sero are all laughing at your pathetic attempts of dragging bakugou to bed but you have yet to give up.

“you need to sleep come onnn” you think that you’ll try one last time before surrendering him and yourself to this predicament until tomorrow morning.

bakugou is reluctant when you try to drag him upwards, instead he takes his hand and knocks on your chest like a door— “i like you, hey, listen,” for a brief second, you thought that your ears had fooled you and that his muffles weren’t really what you heard. but judging based on the rest of their reactions, it seems to be true, suddenly your palms are sweatier, your nape feels warm and you’re all too aware of the places at which he’s touching you now.

“mff.. i’ll go if you kiss me”

right now is the most awake you’ve been since midnight. chills shoot through your body at the image that was involuntarily concocted in your head, flushed, your body gives out and flops down from the couch into the floor with bakugou’s face burrowed into your neck. the warm, periodic soft breaths tell you he’s close to falling asleep.

“fine, fine, come on katsu”

then there’s the other way. by pure frustration or anger. your obliviousness has surely shattered his entire world when the hints mina told him that would definitely get you to know seemed to have failed in every sense of the world—

it was a tuesday, after lunch period, class 1A had been called to the grounds for a physical training session. sparrings had been going on for the past hour and everyone is beyond exhausted. bakugou is sitting next to you on the benches, heaving and downing a bottle of water like nothing. you two have just finished your round, turning the leaderboard to 11-9 with him in the lead.

when you look over you see the way his eyes dart around the current battle (between izuku and shouto), they’re glossed over— pulled in by the sheer weight of their movements. you know that in the depths of his mind, he’s analysing every step or twist of their bodies, exactly as if he’s right in the battle himself— this is what makes him so good: he’s working even when he’s resting.

chuckles leave your breath and they snap him out of his daze, “hah what you looking at, nerd?” he says without much bite, a grin that’s victorious and smug, “you!” despite just stating the obvious, you puff your cheeks out, proud that your remark had rendered bakugou temporarily speechless.

“tsk, you have no idea what you do to me, do you..” yes, although the grounds currently are shooting around with kicks that land with vigour, blasts that explode in people’s faces, somehow, you heard the whisper that was not meant for you.

“what do you mean kats?” tilting your head, you continue downing water whilst looking at him expectantly. suddenly, his face flashes red and the knuckles that wrap around his flask turn snow white.

“nothin’, forget it,” he brushes you off, engrossed in the match once again.

“aww kats, what are you hiding from me?”

“i said nothing, god damn it!” so adamant.

“you sure? it sounds like something.” you insist, teasing in your tone as you accompany bakugou to the bottle refill station.

“oh my days y/n how oblivious are you? even shouto figured it out last month, i’ve liked you since first year, you happy now?” he looks at you, and you really, really look at him. he’s flaring, frustrated, somewhat.

“i— what?”

[sturn5iolo]

DREAM MAKER & HEARTBREAKER

synopsis: chris had been ignoring you so you show up to a party looking for him, just for him to be with another girl.

pairing: frat boy! chris sturniolo x f!reader

warnings: drinking, angstish??, “no strings attached”relationship, not proofread

mellys note!!: this plot came up in my head while i listened to the song “moon river” by frank ocean… why?? idk? so enjoy

the sound of music blasted in your ears. you were at a frat party, mainly for chris. you knew he was going to be there. you and chris have been an off and on situationship, you knew you loved him. but did he love you?

you walked around trying to look for him, sparing a “hi” to anybody who came up to you but quickly walking away. you were so desperate to find chris because he had been ignoring you for a good few days and something in you made you feel weird. a pit in your stomach bothering you, telling you to look for him.

passing through all the drunken people who stench of alcohol and weed, you finally made it to the living room. your eyes wandered until it made it to the couch. there was chris.

but he wasn’t alone, a skinny brunette girl sat on his lap. her fingers ran through his hair, her other hand resting on his chest as he whispered something in her ear that caused her to laugh. you saw the way his lips tickled her ear, the way his hands stayed on her thighs and the way they laughed and conversed together.

jealousy started seeping out of you, but you stayed in place. your teeth dug into the insides of your cheek and your eyes watered. why were you so upset about this? you question in your head over and over.

you quickly pivot and start to go towards the kitchen counter. there you start to mix all types of drinks into a red solo cup, not even caring about how you will feel the next day. all that you could think about was chris and the random girl.

the alcohol went down your throat quickly and gave you a quick burning sensation. you winced at the taste but you just wanted the drunk feeling.

1 drink turned into 3 into 5 into too many you forgot to count. after taking probably your 9th cup, you hear someone talk to you. “think you’ve had enough?” a deep voice spoke, you look to your side, it was one of chris’ frat brothers. “ohhh heyyy! honestly no i think i need more.” you hiccup out.

before you can grab a cup, chris’ frat bro takes it away. “nope chris will kill me if i let you.” you roll your eyes, “ugh why should he care! he’s with that other girl.” the guy looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed and then chuckles, “damn girl your wasted.”

not even letting him say something else, you turn around and start walking away, not wanting to continue this conversation. somehow you made it outside, the cold wind hit you like the speed of light making you shiver a bit. you sit down on the curb of the sidewalk.

“need some company?” a familiar voice questioned you, chris. your roll your eyes once again and choose to ignore him. you hear him grunt as he sits next to you, “what do you want?” you slur. “well i heard your drunk and alone so i knew i had to find you.”

you twist your head and look at him. you haven’t seen him up close in a few days so you take in his features, and the way they glow by the moonlight. “whatever, go back to that girl you were with.” you whisper but he had still heard you. chris’ tongue glides over his teeth as he nods. “what you jealous?”

you scoff at him, “of course i was chris…how could you ignore me for days then go off flirting with her.” you say “we aren’t official..” chris tries defending himself.

at this point your speechless, you knew he was right so what’s the point on fighting back on this? you both go quiet not having anything else to say to each other.

you stand up very quickly, making you wobble a bit almost losing your balance. “welp im going to head back home! no point of having me here.” you quietly say the last part. chris stands up with you, “did you drive here yourself?” he questions you genuinely curious. you nod at him and try to walk away.

chris grabs your arm, “then no your not. you’re not driving back yourself.” you groan at him, “im not going anywhere with you?!” crossing your arms and standing in place. he rolls his eyes at you and bends his knees. you look at him confused until you feel yourself being lifted off the ground. the quick action made you dizzy, chris held you bridal style and started walking towards his car.

“put me down!” you whined out to him, but he ignored you. unlocking his car and putting you in the passenger seat. he reached over and grabbed the seatbelt buckling you in, “your so damn stubborn all the time jesus.”

[beenbaanbuun]

save a horse w/ choi san

words - fuck knows

genre - nsfw

warnings - cowboy!san, cashier!reader, masturbation, talks of dick sucking, it’s mainly just reader fantasising but hey, don’t we all? reader is explicitly described as arab and uses feminine nicknames (little lady, ma’am)

not proof read bc i’m lazy and sick :)

——————————————————————————

the shop is silent other than the sound of your breathing and the rattling of the doors in the hot summer breeze. it’s the time of evening where places like this begin to wind close their shutters, and the less than reputable places begin to open, tempting people in with the promise of booze and a good time. there’s one such place right in your like of sight, just across the dusted track that you suppose could be called a road. the music that plays there is barely audible right now, but no doubt by the time your boss finally lets you slip out back and head home, it’ll be loud enough to spook even the hardiest of horses.

that’s a problem for later, though. for now, you’re happy to wallow in the quiet, flicking through the pages of your novel as you wait patiently for a customer to slip through the door. it’s been 10, maybe 20 minutes since the last one left, but you know that these things don’t run like clockwork. sometimes you’ll have a stream of customers waiting at the register for you to rid them of their hard earned money, and other times you can divulge in 5 or so chapters between seeing people.

for the sole reason being that your book is getting rather interesting, you hope that it’s closer to the latter today; that you don’t see another soul for at least another 30 minutes so that you can find out what has happened to the killer! the book so far has been all twists and turns and convoluted plot lines, but the murder of Christian Truro’s sister, Mabel, has to be the most interesting of the lot. it’s a classic tale of good versus evil, and cliche as it might be, you’re a sucker for tropes.

you blindly reach a hand out to the lollipop container you keep on the counter, fingers wriggling around as you try to find purchase on the glass lip of the jar. it’s around here somewhere, you know that much, but for some reason you just can’t seem to find it. as much as it pains you to do so, you draw your eyes away from the words on your page in an attempt to search for it with more than just your touch.

only, you find more than just the jar.

there’s a thick pair of thighs on the other side of the counter, clad in jeans and a pair or worn leather chaps. they’re scuffed up, covered in dirt and dust that serves to prove just how hard they’ve been at work. you can imagine them sitting either side of a saddle, straddling the firm leather as they tense and relax with each trot. funny—your spit feels awfully thick as you gulp it down. you find it filling up your mouth, collecting at the corners of your lips as if ready to drool from them.

fucking hell, keep it together.

your gaze shifts north, travelling over a tiny waist, a chest so big it should be illegal, and shoulders you’re convinced could break a world record. it’s difficult not to let your eyes linger on the way his shirt buttons bulge, but somehow you manage not to appear like a total creep, raising your gaze until finally, you find his face. at the angle you’re sat, slouching on your stool behind the counter in a way that makes the base of your spine ache terribly, it’s fairly easy to sneak a peek under the wide brim of his hat. the way it’s drawn low over his eyes has you wondering whether he’s trying to keep those pretty eyes and dangerous smirk hidden, and if so, why?

“you sell whisky?” he purrs, the sound rumbling like an engine through the stifling silence. it has you shuffling in your seat, grinding your hips down into the worn leather pad to try and rid yourself of the strange ache at the apex of your thighs.

“this is a hardware store, mister,” you reply, voice teetering on the edge of a whine. if it weren’t for the heat blooming across your cheeks, maybe you could’ve blamed your shaky tone on the fact that your intimidated by the tall man, but as true as that may be, there’s certainly something stronger that you feel.

lust isn’t an emotion that strikes you often; mainly in the dark hours of the night when the streets are quiet and all you can hear is the rumble of water passing over pebbles in the nearby stream. only then do you let yourself close your eyes and imagine the strong touch of a man. as your fingers pry apart your slick folds and reach for that little treasure trove of pleasure, you set your mind free and pretend it’s a hand other than your own bringing you to that all important peak. your thighs twitch, and you long for a warm pair of hands to hold them still; your pussy leaks and you dream of thick fingers trailing through the remnants of your desire.

it’s that very same desire that has your eyes fluttering down to gaze upon his hands. they’re covered by thick leather gloves, and yet somehow they still manage to draw a longing sigh from your parted lips.

“so it is,” he says, “still doesn’t answer my question, though. do you sell whisky?”

his voice is insistent as he leans forward, hands catching him on the counter and biceps bulging against the short sleeves of his shirt. he really ought to get some clothes that fit him since the ones he’s wearing so so clearly don’t. the seams look as though they’re about to burst at any minute, not that it would be an issue if they did. you’re sure there’s a sewing kit around here somewhere.

“why would we sell whisky at a hardware store?” it takes an immeasurable amount of effort to look at his face again; so much so that you offer yourself some mental praise once your eyes meet his own once more. they’re deep and chocolaty, with the slightest hint of danger. it’s funny, really; you’re sure he’s trying to make himself seem threatening, but it just makes you yearn for his touch even more.

“why do you sell lollipops at a hardware store?” he points to the glass jar that had evaded you mere moments before, “i don’t think many of your customers would be a fan of…” he narrows his eyes to read the label, smirking a little when he does, “strawberries and cream? how cute.”

he shoots a devilish grin in your direction, trying his hardest to make you aware of the fact that the compliment is for you. that you’re the cute one for keeping these lollipops on the desk, close enough for you to just reach in and grab one whenever your sweet tooth needs satiating. the way your nose wrinkles at the comment only makes him chuckle.

“some of the customers have kids,” you defend their position on the counter like your life defends on it.

“and some of the staff have cravings to satisfy,” he replies playfully. you squeeze your thighs together so hard that the muscles begin to ache.

“listen,” you put your book down on the side, not at all caring about losing your page. in all honesty, it’s the last thing on your mind right now; christian trudo and his cousin marcel—or whatever their fucking names were—can wait a little while. there’s something far more interesting in front of you right now, “if you want whisky, my boss keeps a bottle in the back. i can’t legally sell it since we don’t have a licence but i’m sure the old bastard could go without a glass or two.”

“are you inviting me back there for a drink, little lady?” he leans down to your level, tipping his hat back so that his eyes are still on show. some strange force pulls your forward in your seat until your chest is pressed firmly against the counter. you don’t bother to look down at the way it makes your cleavage bulge—he does it for you. his eyes grow wide and his pupils swell as if he’s just fallen head over heals with your breasts. you don’t blame him; you’ve fallen head over heals for his too.

“i might be,” you shrug, a dangerous grin of your own tugging on your lips, “you’ll owe me though! i could get into big trouble for stealing my bosses liqueur.”

his eyes don’t leave your cleavage easily, slowly dragging up your chest and your neck until they reach your face.

“oh? and what might you have in mind, ma’am?”

his breath is hot on your face, although that might just be the all-consuming lust. it makes you tingle from your head to your toes, like a thousand volts of electricity are being fired up and down your spine each second. with each twitch of your hips, you feel the sticky mess you’ve already made in your underwear, and you can’t help but shift them again to try and find some relief. if you were a weaker woman, your fingers would already be up the front of your skirt, dancing away on your clit.

“well, those jeans do look awfully tight,” even tighter with the tent he’s sporting, “they must be mighty uncomfortable—perhaps it’s best we get you out of them, hm?”

he hums in approval.

“i could say the same about your corset,” there’s something daring in him as he reaches a hand forward to drag a hand over the top of your breasts that rise and fall with each heavy breath. it hitches, stuttering in your throat as the calloused tips of his fingers blaze a trail of fire across your skin, “it’s a wonder you can breathe in this pretty little thing.”

his hand pulls away and suddenly you can breathe again. you suck in a deep breath that makes your lungs burn, and then sigh it out heavily. “my boss likes when i dress up a little,” you admit, “brings in the customers, and customers means money.”

“brought me in, didn’t it?” and you nod, because of course it did. the pure notion that this man had entered a store filled with nuts and bolts in the hopes of grabbing a bottle of whisky is nonsense, meaning something else had to have dragged him in. a girl could let something like this go to her head, if she didn’t already know just what a pretty smile and a wink could do to the men in this town.

the man straightens up once more, allowing you to come eye to eye with the bulge that strains against the zipper of his jeans. would it be crude to lean across the counter to mouth at it? to get the denim all wet with your drool as you lick stripes up and down the silhouette of his cock? perhaps, and yet a strange part of you just doesn’t seem to care. the grandfather clock in the corner tells you it’s another couple of hours until you close, but maybe that’s exciting? the idea that anyone could walk in and see you on your knees for a man you met mere moments ago…

the ache between your thighs is becoming downright unbearable.

“i have an idea, little lady,” he pulls at least half of your attention away from his member, though it never quite leaves your line of sight, “how about we leave the drink until after the payment, hm? you can get me out of these tight jeans, i’ll get you out of that little corset, and then to celebrate our newfound comfort, we can split that bottle of whisky! sound good?”

and it does. really good, actually. borderline the best idea you’ve ever heard! but the shop…

oh, fuck the shop. it’s not like you’ll be able to work in this state anyway; so horny that you’re sure the grinding of your hips it bound to have caused structural damage to the stool you’re perched on. you can’t serve customers when your thoughts are focussed on stuffing a cowboy’s cock down your throat, now can you? it’s best to fix problems like this as soon as possible, you find.

“that door there,” you gesture to the store cupboard in the corner of the store, “there’s an old leather armchair in there. if you go and take a seat, i’ll be there to rid you of those jeans in just a moment.”

a quick nod and he’s heading off, barely sparing a glance over his shoulder as you stand up and straighten out your skirt.

“i’ll see you in a minute, little lady,” he drawls, accent thick with lust, “me and the little guy will be waiting patiently!”

you stifle a laugh. little? he must have a very strange idea of what that word means.

“oh, yeah?” you call after him, “well, you and the little guy ought to tell me your names before we get too acquainted, don’t you think?”

the door to the storeroom creeks as it opens.

“the names san.”

[dimlylittorch]

this started off as a hurt comfort fic but i changed my mind and it turned into.. manipulation. i am unwell. THIS SHIT IS LIKE 3K+ WORDS BE WARNED.

My Masterlist🌱

Silco x transmasc!reader

small synopsis: he finds the son of an aristocrat in Piltover to be his pawn

He’ll never forget that day. That day on the bridge, when his entire world changed. Ever since then, there’s been a pit inside of his stomach. It churns and twists whenever something that is his is in danger. When something of his is out of his reach.

Grief is a funny thing. It can invoke every kind of human emotion. Anger, sadness.. it tears a person up inside. Leaving scars that will never heal completely. Yes, they fade with time. But sometimes they fester. And wounds get reopened- bringing every single old emotion back in one fell swoop.

Meeting you changed everything he thought he knew. When he thought he’d finally found himself on stable ground, you pulled the world out from under his feet. His heart had grown cold, and he found himself incapable of.. feeling. Feeling anything other than rage, or hate. He had no pity for the weak. Not anymore.

Until he found you.

The day he met you was the day he felt like maybe- just maybe, he could breathe again. A pretty little thing you were. Coming from a good family in Piltover, you were clean and well taken care of, nothing like the people in the Undercity. You were innocent, and completely unaware of the dangers that lied in the Undercity among people like him.

Having packed a small bag, fully intending on exploring some more of the world that your parents kept you so sheltered from, you managed to find yourself near an entrance into the Undercity without even knowing it. Walking through damp alleyways and past the docks, slipping on the occasional patch of worn wood. You had no idea how dangerous it was for you to be out there in the dark.. let alone by yourself.

You found yourself stumbling across run down buildings with holes in the ceiling and ruined infrastructures. One warehouse in particular caught your eye as it seemed relatively stable. You peeked inside through the front entrance before opening the door, it creaking loudly. You take a few steps inside, glancing around at how different it was from the buildings you’d seen your whole life.

“Wow” you whisper to yourself when you look up, a clear view of the moon through one of the holes in the ceiling. Of course, you had no idea Silco was using this place for his own purposes. And you had no idea he was near. Walking through the main area of the building, a small smile creeps along your lips. “Hello!” You call out, hearing a faint echo back, much to your amusement. Silco stood in a dark doorway with his eyes on you, his eye brow quirked with interest. When was the last time he’d heard someone truly laugh?

As you make your way up the large staircase, Silco moves to quietly follow you, curious of your movements. He’d never seen you before.. and you certainly didn’t look like you were from the Undercity. Tripping over debris every now and then, Silco can see the lightness in your movements. You weren’t wary or cautious. Simply exploring like a child would. Once you reach the next floor you see the remnants of old furniture, crouching down and looking at what he would consider trash. He watches with curiosity as you pick up a small item you see on the floor, smiling to yourself as you slip it into your pocket.

Making your way through the run down building, you find a rickety staircase that leads onto the roof. Stepping onto it hesitantly, Silco stays back and watches as you flinch when it creaks and shakes under your weight. Standing still for a moment, you take a breath before heading up the stairs and reaching the roof. Silco hums with amusement as he watches your actions, deciding he might as well follow. He found you intriguing after all. As you settle onto the roof, setting your bag down he slowly follows. But when he hears a sharp creak in the metal, a gasp slips past his lips as he reaches for the roof, the rusted metal staircase starting to collapse.

He saw his life before his eyes- as much as he hated to admit it. The thought of dying to a staircase was embarrassing for a man like him. As he clawed at the wood of the roof, he suddenly felt two hands on one of his arms, and he looked up to see you. The soft face looking back at him, faced riddled with worry.

“Shit- hold on” you say quickly as you tug on him as hard as you can, moving onto your stomach so you can hook your arms under his shoulders, getting a better grip. With a gasp from your lips, he holds onto you out of instinct as he kicks his foot up, using it to push the both of you onto the roof.

When he manages to get onto the roof completely, you roll onto your back, pulling him with you. The both of you breathing heavily, he finds himself in your arms, still holding him. “You okay?” You say softly against his ear before you gently remove your arms from his upper body, leaving him to sit straddled over your hips.

He puts a hand next to your head, using it to sit himself up with a shaky breath as he looks down at you, faces only inches apart. “Fine.” He mutters before he sits himself up further, resting against your hips and thighs. You sit yourself up slightly, hands resting by his knees as you gaze up at him.

“You sure?” You ask softly as your eyes trail over his face, not once flinching from his scars. He looks back at you with a hesitant glance, not used to anyone caring about his wellbeing.

He huffs and moves off of your lap, sitting next to you with a sigh. “I’ve faced worse” he murmurs as he slicks his hair back with his hand.

Sitting up fully, you gently scoot over to be closer to him. You glance over his form, taking in his presence. Fairly tall and slender, but still.. solid. “I’m glad you’re okay.” You say faintly, much to his surprise. He looks over at you, harsh eyes trailing over your form.

“You’re an odd little thing.” He mutters as he looks you over. “And just what were you coming up here for? The scenic view?” He scoffs.

“I’ve just.. never been up here before” you say softly.

“And you got curious?” He muses as he runs his fingers through his hair before standing up and adjusting his not ruffled clothing.

“Mhm” you hum as you stand up with him. Before you can say anything else, a rotted piece of wood breaks under your feet, making you trip forward, grabbing onto him for balance. The force knocks him backwards, making him land on his arse with a huff, you landing on your stomach in his hold. “Christ-“ you gasp when you hit his form and the wood. Gathering yourself for a moment, you look up and meet his sharp gaze. “We have to stop falling into each other like this” you huff with a faint laugh as you sit up slightly, but still leaning over him as you catch your breath.

He sighs when he looks down at you, seeing just how.. soft you truly are. Gentle eyes and a kind smile.. nothing like what he was used to. As you look up at him, your smile widens slightly.

“Hm.. do you have heterochromia? Where your eyes are two different colors?” You question innocently as you sit back and look at him. “They’re really pretty”

He freezes when he hears your words. Pretty. Pretty? Has he ever been called pretty? No. That’s something he would remember. If half of his face wasn’t so scarred it would probably be apparent that he was blushing slightly. Glancing over your facial features, he can’t help but find you amusing. You clearly didn’t know who he was.

“Something like that.” He replies quietly before looking downcast. If only he didn’t have a massive story behind his face. Maybe things would be easier.

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a small brown paper bag and offer it to him. “Are you from the Undercity?” You ask softly. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in Piltover before..”

His eyebrows raise when you offer him the small paper bag, but he begrudgingly takes it, opening it and finding.. cookies. Homemade cookies. He pauses as he thinks about what he’s doing. Sitting on a roof with some topsider idiot trying to make conversation. He should be working towards his dream of Zaun right now. But.. a part of him wanted to stay put. He hated to admit it. But he’s missed being treated like a normal person. And not like a crime lord. Grabbing a cookie with a sigh, he sets the bag down and looks over at you. “Yes, I am. It’s clear you’re from topside..” he mutters as he takes a bite of the cookie.

A small smile quirks at the corner of your lips when you see him take the cookie and take a bite. “My mom made those” you say softly. “Do you like them?”

He huffs a little when he hears you mention your mother. God, how old were you? You seemed in your twenties, maybe.. but there was an innocence about you. The world hadn’t ruined you. Not yet. “It’s.. fine.” He says quietly as he eats the rest of the cookie. He had to stay stoic like always- but in reality he couldn’t remember the last time he had something sweet. It was.. nice. Almost too nice. Sweet enough to give him a toothache. “My compliments to your mother.” He adds faintly.

Your smile widens a bit and you chuckle. “I’ll tell her you said that.” You look at the bag for a moment before gently pushing it towards him. “If you have any friends you want to share with- you can have them. I can always get more.”

God, how innocent could you get? Friends? Him having friends? He almost laughed at the thought. “You truly have no idea who I am?” He questions as he looks up, his gaze meeting your own.

When his eyes meet your own, your heart stutters a little. His gaze was sharp and piercing, nothing like you were used to. In Piltover it was all ‘make sure you maintain polite eye contact- staring is rude,’ but he clearly didn’t follow any stupid rules like you had to. “I’m sorry” you murmur, looking downcast before you look back up at him and offer him your hand. “I suppose I should’ve asked sooner. I’ve been terribly rude.” You could practically feel your mothers words flowing through you- ever forced polite response you ever had to give, rushing back on autopilot. “I’m Y/N, of house L/N.”

His eyebrow quirks when he sees how.. formal you are. He stares at your hand for a moment before sighing and shaking your hand. “Silco.” He says simply before retracting his hand. “And just what does your family do? You seem awfully.. well trained.”

You could help but snort at his words. Well trained? That was a new one. But in reality, it made sense. To society you were nothing more than a dog that knows how to behave. “We’re in the mining industry.” You say with a small smile. “My father manufactures a lot of the machinery that the miners use.”

He hums when he hears your words. Mining? He knew quite a lot about that. Having worked in the mines in his youth.. it’s not something he would go back to willingly. “I take it you don’t work in the mines.” He muses.

“Afraid not.” You hum. “I was attending University.. but I needed a break.”

He scoffs at that, rolling his eyes before he moves to stand up. “There is no time for breaks if you truly wish to accomplish something.” He chastises. “Surely your father has taught you that.”

“I’ve learned not to push myself.” You murmur as you lay back on the roof, gazing up at the sky.

“We aren’t alive just to lie around and relax.” He scoffs as he moves to crouch next to you, his knee by your head as he looks down at you. “You think I got to where I am by taking breaks? By not pushing myself?”

A few moments of silence pass before you sit up, tilting your head up so that your eyes meet his. “And yet.. I don’t even know who you are.”

Before you know it, you feel his hand on your chin, squeezing your cheeks slightly as he lifts your face closer to his. “I’ll have you know, boy.” He whispers dangerously. “I control the Undercity. And everyone in it. So choose your next words wisely.” He seethes as he glares down at you.

A few more beats of quiet- the only noise the occasional creaking of the roof. He watches as your eyes soften, face becoming more relaxed in his hold. Anyone else would’ve been terrified.. but here you were. Gazing up at him.

“Would you like to come home for dinner tomorrow night?”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Pardon?” He questions as he lets go of your face, but not pulling away.

You reach up to rub your chin a little, looking up at him. “Well.. you’re in charge of the Undercity.” You say softly. “And tomorrow we’re hosting a dinner party with other important people.” You murmur. “Would you want to come?”

He stares down at you for a few moments, the cogs turning in his brain. What was this boy’s agenda? He didn’t even know him. But.. the thought appealed to him. Slightly. Being invited to a dinner party in Piltover that is filled with rich bureaucrats, your parents certainly not approving of your choice for a plus one.

“What.. a kind offer.” He says with a small smirk as he stands up, offering his hand to you. Befriending a young aristocrat of Piltover. That could be very helpful with his plans. A little pawn all to himself. “I think it would be rude of me to reject it.”

Reaching up to take his hand, he helps you up as you look at him with a smile on your lips. “I promise it’ll be worth it.” You say sweetly.

He chuckles, slipping his hands into his pockets and looking off into the distance over Piltover. “Oh, I’m sure it will be.”

Your parents were certainly happy when you told them you’d be bringing a plus one. While you were sociable, you haven’t exactly been considered for any marriage unions yet with other young aristocrats- much to your parents dismay. You weren’t exactly the typical marriage candidate anyways. You didn’t have much of an interest in business or politics. You’d much rather do things you enjoy.

While you may seem innocent, you weren’t truly that ditsy. You knew your parents wouldn’t like the person you brought to dinner, but a part of you wanted the discourse. To show your parents you could be doing much worse than you are. But you have been well behaved your whole life, and you’re not doing drugs in a ditch somewhere in the Undercity.

Your mind had a knack for making things seem.. less complicated than they were. Call it a coping mechanism. You didn’t see a scenario where your parents would be incredibly upset that you brought home a man like him. Surely they would be welcoming to someone who has power. That’s what your brain told you, at least. You were sweet and innocent to everyone around you because your brain dumbed things down for you on the daily. Without that? You’d be a walking ball of anxiety. It’s better this way, being the silly little child of an aristocrat who could see the good in everyone.

You had agreed to meet Silco at the main bridge between Piltover and Zaun. When he walks through the evening fog, you smile at him. He was wearing a red button down with nice pants, probably some of the best clothes he had- while you were wearing a white button down with black pants. “You clean up nice.” You chuckle as he walks up to you.

“I try” he muses with a smirk as the two of you set off to your parent’s estate.

As the two of you walked, you can’t help but feel your chest tighten. Were you really about to bring a probably dangerous stranger into your parents home?

“What are you playing at, hm?” Silco hums, making you turn your head to look up at him. When he sees the look on your face, he chuckles. “I know this isn’t just a sweet little invitation. You have a motive.”

A sigh slips past your lips as you both mosey through the foggy streets of Piltover. “I needed a plus one.” You murmur.

“I don’t think I’m the kind of man you bring home to meet your parents.” He muses as he looks down at you.

You huff, rubbing the back of your neck. “Fine- fine.” You sigh. “My parents.. need me to get engaged. And I’m not very fond of the idea. So, I thought if I brought home..” you trail off quietly.

“An Undercity rat like me?” He huffs with a chuckle. “They’d realize they’d rather you single than with me? So if we broke up they’d be grateful?”

A groan slips past your lips as you reach up to rub your face. “Something like that.” You sigh. “Do you mind?”

He laughs faintly at your question. “Do I mind pretending to be the fiancé of a pretty little aristocrat?” He muses. “Not at all. Besides.. I’d rather be here than smoking a cigar in my office like every other night.”

The introduction to your parents was.. interesting.

“Mother, Father!” You say sweetly when you see your parents in the large foyer. They smile sweetly and walk up to you, both of their smiles faltering when they see Silco. “I wanted you to meet someone” you practically beam up at them.

Silco glances down and sees the look on your face, a smirk forming on his lips. You were quite the actor.. it was convincing. He looks at your parents and smirks a little wider at how they try to hold their smiles steady. He knew that look- the disapproving gaze as they examine his facial scars, and his inadequate outfit. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He says lightly as he looks between the two of them.

“This is Mr. Silco- my fiancé!” You grin.

Seeing your parents worlds shatter before their eyes was quite funny. Even Silco had to admit that.

“Your- your fiancé?” Your mother asks quickly, trying to keep up her sweet act and temperament.

“Surprising, I know.” Silco chuckles. “I will admit, we did rush into it a little. But we both know we could die tomorrow. Why not celebrate our love today?” He smiles at your parents.

Christ, you thought to yourself. He was quite the actor. Even you would’ve believed that.

“Silco, you said?” Your father asks as he reaches out his hand to Silco. “It’s.. a pleasure.” He murmurs hesitantly.

“Let’s introduce you to some of the business partners” you say sweetly to Silco as you pull on his arm, dragging him with you throughout the large ball room area.

The night went on, introducing Silco to whoever you could, the cringe on your parents faces truly satisfying. Maybe two hours later Silco has made a name for himself, managing to keep up with conversation better than anyone expected. He may be from the Undercity, but he was quick of tongue. Eventually you manage to pull him along with you into an empty library with only a fire burning for light. As you close the door, you sigh contentedly.

“You’re better at this than I expected” you chuckle as you lean against the door.

“In my youth I certainly did talk my way through a few.. obstacles” he smirks as he sips on the glass of champagne he had in his hand. “I never did ask..” he murmurs as he walks to look around the room, glancing at the books on the shelves. “You don’t want to marry?”

A sigh slips past your lips as you walk into the room, sitting on a chair next to the fire. “I’m not the marriage type.” You mutter.

“That much is clear.” He smirks as he sets his glass down, walking over and resting his hands on the arms of your chair, leaning down so his face wasn’t far from your own. “You aren’t quite like the rest of them, hm? No crave for greed.. no desires that need to be sated. Am I right?”

Your eyes meet his for a moment before you lean back in the chair, your eyes shifting to the fire. “Right.” You murmur.

He gently cups your chin, pulling your gaze back to his own. “Such a little thing, you are.” He murmurs as his eyes trace over you. “I see why your parents keep you on a short leash.” He smirks.

“Yeah, well” you sigh. “They want to hand the leash off to someone else. Preferably a young aristocrat.”

“What if I said I could make all of your problems.. go away?” Silco’s voice questions quietly as he pulls your chin closer to his own.

“What do you mean?” You whisper faintly as you gaze up at him.

“What if I took a hold of your leash? Instead of some stupid boy who won’t know what to do with you..” he muses.

You scoff at his words, pushing him off of you and standing up. “I’m not going to be pawned off like an object” you say firmly as you turn your back to him.

He sighs, walking up behind you and speaking near the shell of your ear. “Little one.. you’ll be pawned off either way. Would you rather go to someone who will allow you freedom? Or a stranger?” He questions faintly.

A shaky breath slips past your lips as you process his words. “This is crazy.” You say faintly as you run your fingers through your hair.

“There, there” he coos in your ear. “Think of it this way.. you met a nice man, and invited him to a party. He helped you by pretending to be your fiancé.. and now you return the favor.” He says as he turns you around so you’re facing him again. “It’s truly not that complicated.”

“Favor?” You question. “What could I possibly do for you?”

“I already control Zaun.” He explains as he cups your chin. “It is in my best interest that I have ties to Piltover as well. Ties.. that cannot be broken. Such as a marriage.”

OKAY GUYSSS this is officially the longest thing I’ve written!! Merry late Christmas🥱

[earthchica]

Persuasive | 2

supervisor! terry richmond x black, fem! reader { office siren }

summary: You get a little taste of your medicine from Terry when he locked you both in a storage room.

warnings: explicit smut (18+), dom & sub, fingering, oral (m&f), dirty talking, public foreplay, unprotected sex, praise kink, flirting, sexual teasing, size kink, you have a last name (miss. hayes), nicknames { baby, baby girl, good girl, good slut, pretty girl, & more } words: 6k

note: hiiii, I hope y'all had a great Christmas. here's part 2, unedited, with some errors, lol. Thank you, and please enjoy it.

part one

The morning sun poured into the office as you sauntered in, a grin on your face, excitement buzzing through you like electricity. You had a plan ready to keep Terry on his toes and remind him of the chemistry crackling between you two.

But as the hours ticked by, you couldn’t shake the growing unease in your stomach; you got up, went to his office, knocked, and heard him back in your chair, biting your lip.

There was something different about him today—he seemed sharper and more assertive, and you couldn't help but feel a little flutter in your stomach.

“Hey, Terry,” you started, a teasing lilt in your voice. “Remember yesterday? You were all weak in the knees; couldn’t even handle being patient!” You leaned forward, giving him a playful smirk.

Terry raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Weak? Nah, I wouldn’t say that. You had me in a good spot, and I’ll give you that, but there's no way it’s happening again.”

His voice was low, rich with confidence, sending a shiver down your spine. You feigned innocence, biting your lip more to hide a grin. “Oh really? You may actin’ all stern and dom today, but just remember I could have you submissive again if I wanted to.”

“Look, you caught me slippin’ just once,” Terry shot back, crossing his arms. “I ain’t ashamed; you got me, but don’t get it twisted.” He held your gaze steady, letting the words hang like a challenge.

A thrill rushed through you, igniting something deep inside. “You think you can just flip it on me? Make me submit?” You tried to sound defiant but could feel the heat creeping up your cheeks.

Terry chuckled softly. “Oh, I know I can. I’ll have you begging for mercy when the time’s right.” His voice had that playful edge, teasing yet sincere, making you want to lean in closer.

You blinked, trying to play it tough. “I’m not begging for anything, Terry.” You rolled your eyes, “Oh, I beg to differ. You just wait. Remember, this ain’t over, not by a long shot.”

Terry pointed a finger playfully at you before leaning back in his chair. “And for now, you need to take a lunch break. You gonna listen to me, or I might decide to take you right here.”

You rolled your eyes again, but your heart raced. “Fine, I’ll take lunch. Only because I’m hungry!” You said, leaving his office and trying to shake off the tension in the air.

His words lingered in your mind as you walked towards the break room. With every step, you attempted to push Terry out—his presence was heavy and electrifying, and knowing this game was far from over, you couldn’t shake off the sense.

After lunch, you were rummaged through the storage room, your mind buzzed from the brief yet intense exchange with Terry. The dim light cast shadows around you, the air thick with an electrifying tension that seemed to pulse with every breath you took.

As you reached for a box on the top shelf, you heard the door creak open and locked click shut. You turned, startled, and found Terry standing there, leaning against the door with that infuriating smirk.

“Need some help?” he asked, his tone playful yet laced with an unmistakable intensity. You hesitated momentarily, caught off guard by his presence dominating the small space.

Swallowing hard, you nodded. “Yeah, I could use a hand,” you managed, trying to sound casual despite the rush of adrenaline coursing through you.

Terry stepped forward, brushing against your back as he reached for the box you’d been eyeing. The heat emanating from him sent shivers down your spine, and you fought to maintain your composure.

“Got it,” he said smoothly, lifting the box quickly but not stepping back. Instead, he pressed his body against yours, his warmth enveloping you and nearly making your knees buckle.

“Thank you,” you stammered, focusing intently on the box's contents to distract yourself from how your heart raced. But the closeness was intoxicating, and you could feel Terry’s gaze on you.

It was predatory, like a lion observing its prey, making it harder to think straight. “So, what are you looking for in here?” he asked, a teasing glimmer in his eye as he leaned closer, his breath tickling your ear.

You shot back a feeble retort, trying to regain some control. “Just need some supplies. Nothing exciting.” But how he looked at you and his fingers brushed against your waist made your resolve waver.

His mere presence was dizzying, and every teasing remark he made sent waves of desire coursing through you. “Are you sure? Because I could think of a few things you might need,” he replied, his voice dropping lower as he leaned closer.

You turned to face him fully, fire igniting in your belly as you met his eyes. “Oh really? And what might those be?” you challenged, your heart racing faster than you could manage.

Without a word, he leaned in and kissed your cheek softly, an innocuous touch that sent shockwaves through you. “Maybe I could start with this…” he murmured, continuing to trail kisses along your neck.

You felt your breath hitch in your throat, desperately trying to maintain your composure as your mind raced. “Terry—” you began, but you couldn’t hold back any longer.

Terry grabbed your face and kissed you softly, feeling the warmth of his lips against yours. You responded instantly, feeling him wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer.

The kiss deepened, filled with urgency and lust. Terry pulled away from the kiss with a playful grin and looked down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Terry began to circle around while staring at you before coming behind you. "I told you it wasn't over," Terry said, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning in.

He pushed your hair to the side; you felt the warmth of his breath on the back of your neck. “Terry, please,” you breathed, feeling your heart pound in resonance with the desire between you.

“Fuck, you’re fucking sexy. I don’t know how you can walk around here without driving everyone insane.” Terry said, grinding against your ass, letting you feel the harden on in his pants.

You gasped, closing your eyes while he cupped your breasts with his large hands and kissed your neck. Wetness flooded your panties, but you quickly masked it with a layer of refusal.

“Flattery won’t work on me,” you replied, trying to play it cool, though your voice trembled slightly. “Oh, it’s not flattery. It’s just the truth,” he insisted with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“You’re stunning, and I’m not just talking about your appearance. It’s how you carry yourself, the fire in your eyes when you’re passionate about something. That’s what I want.”

His gaze softened, revealing sincerity among the teasing. “And right now, all I can think about is how much I want you.” He added. You swallowed hard, caught off guard by his confession.

“Do you want me, baby?” Terry asked softly, his voice almost caressed.

"I-" you started.

"I know you do, but I need to hear the words. Come on, baby, be a good girl and use your words for me. You had a lot to say earlier?" Terry whispered.

"Yes, Terry, please. I want you; I need you, please!" You moaned, begging softly, and his large hand slid down to your stomach to your core; you bit your lip.

"Take your panties off for me, baby," Terry ordered, and you did what you were told. Terry kisses your neck again before lifting your skirt up and spreading your legs wide to slide his hand down your wet pussy lips.

His fingers worked methodically, flicking and pressing, bringing heat and circulation. You couldn't help but hold a moan of pleasure, gripping his hip and your body relaxing into the back of his chest.

"You tryin’ to keep it quiet? Nah, I wanna hear you, lil mama. How does it feel? It feels good, huh?" Terry asked, his voice smooth and light.

With every added finger and stroke, you couldn't suppress the pleasure you were feeling. "Yes, Terry. It feels so good, I can’t even-" you moaned, your voice barely above a whisper.

Terry chuckled softly, cradling your pussy in his hand, fingers thrusting between your pussy lips at a fast pace. “Mmm, this pussy is so tight and wet! Is all this wetness for me? I got you so soaked, huh?”.

Another moan escaped your lips, this time louder, unable to contain the pleasure building within you. "Fuck, yes, it's all for you, Terry! ahh, your fingers...I wish it was your dick."

Terry chuckled, his fingers applying the right fast pace, driving you wild. "Mmmm, I bet. How bad you've been wanting me fucking you?" he asked, grabbing your neck with his other hand.

You moaned and looked at him, eyes sparkling warmly. "So bad, so bad I always dreamed you fucking me like a good little slut until I beg to cum on your dick" you confessed.

"Is that what you want, lil mama. I can make that happen only if you're a good girl. Good girls are good and obey; you think you can do that?" He asked whispering, pecking your lips.

"Yes, Terry, I'm a good girl, and I can be, I promise," you whispered, closing your eyes, allowing yourself to sink deeper into his fingers and feel slightly close to the edge.

"Mmmm, I got you," He said with a low chuckle, and you were about to moan out as your response when you heard a knock on the storage door.

It was like someone trying to get in, but it was locked. Terry covered your mouth and continued to work his magic on your pussy, keeping his eyes locked on the door, his movements steady and calm.

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head as you began to squirm against him, feeling yourself getting close to cumming, "Shh, hold on a second," he whispered, his voice low and soothing.

A few moments passed, and he leaned closer, his breath warm against your dark brown skin. "Be a good girl; they’ll pass soon enough; and then you can cum"

As the knocking disappeared, and heard footsteps move away. "Cum for me, cum for me, beautiful girl, such a good girl," Terry said, and your orgasm hit you hard, causing you to let out a muffled moan of pleasure.

Terry handled you up as you came down, trailing kisses your neck before fixing your skirt and moving in front of you. He put your panties into his pocket before pressing a passionate kiss on you.

You pulled away from the kiss, "Shit, Terry! That was so....amazing, and we almost got caught," you replied, your voice a mix of breathless and excited.

Terry chuckled softly, pulling you closer. "Yeah, it was, and that was kinda risky, but it was worth it, right?" He asked.

"Yes, it was," you said, still catching your breath and steadying your legs better now.

"Good! How about we keep this goin'? I'm thinkin' dinner at my place, then we can finish what we started," Terry asked, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist before sliding to your ass.

You felt a smile creep onto your face. "Dinner, huh? Like a date?" you teased. Terry leaned in a little, a playful glint in his eyes. "Sure, like a date." He said, his confidence making your heart flutter.

"Alright then," you said, feeling a rush of excitement. "But you better make it good!" You added, and he laughed.

"I'll ensure you won't regret it. Now come on, let's get outta here before anyone else decides to come looking again." With that, he led you to the door, anticipation bubbling between you both.

As you both settled back into work after that intense moment, Terry casually glanced your way here and there. Finally, work was over, and you were home now.

You rummaged through your closet, pulling out a couple of dresses before you settled on one that always made you feel confident and comfortable.

It was a little sexy, just how you wanted it. As you slipped it on, you couldn’t help but smile; the dress's color highlighted your dark brown skin tone and curvy hips.

Then came the moment of truth: the hair and makeup. You took your time, doing each step carefully, but your mind kept drifting back to Terry.

“Alright, girl, just be you,” you said to your reflection, adjusting the final touches. You gave yourself one last look, and feeling somewhat satisfied, you grabbed your phone, keys, and bag while headed out.

-

As you pulled up to Terry's house, your heart raced with anticipation. The warm glow from the porch light illuminated the yard, and you could see him waiting at the door.

When exited the car, you took a deep breath, feeling the cool evening air brush against your skin. The door creaked open, and there stood Terry with a smile on his face.

Terry looked effortlessly sexy in a long-sleeved fitted shirt that hugged his muscles just right. His eyes lit up when he saw you, noting how the dress flowed around your curves.

“Damn, you look fine as hell,” Terry said, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Thanks! I was hopin’ you’d like it,” you replied, a playful smile crossing your lips.

He stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. “Like it? Baby, I love it. Please, come on in.” You could feel his gaze lingering on you as you walked past him, sending a thrill through your body.

Once inside, the atmosphere was cozy; the lights were dim, a soft tune playing in the background. You turned to face him, and for a brief moment, you both just stood there, locked in each other's eyes.

“You really are something special, you know that?” Terry said, his voice low and sincere. You felt a rush of warmth at his compliment. “You ain't too bad yourself, Terry.”

Laughter bubbled between you, but then the tension shifted, and suddenly, it was just you two in the room. Without even thinking, you took a step closer.

Terry did the same, closing the distance until barely any space left. As he leaned in, the world around you faded; all you could focus on was how he looked at you.

Then, he kissed you in a moment that felt like it lasted forever. The gentle press of his lips ignited a spark, and you melted against him, forgetting all about the dinner you had planned.

The kiss was hungry and sweet as if he had been waiting all day for this. As the kiss deepened, it felt electric. You lose yourself in the way his tongue dances along yours.

You finally pull back, breathless and dazed, your heart racing; Terry began leaving trails of kisses to your neck to your breasts, You cupped them through your dress, sucking and licking the cleavage part that was exposed.

"Terry...ahh...what-what about dinner?" You moaned, caressing the back of his neck, and he pulled away from your breasts and looked down at you with those eyes.

"Mmm, dinner can wait. I need you; at least you want me to stop," He expressed. "No, don't stop, please don't," You said, pulling him into a kiss and he picked you up bridal style.

Terry took you to his bedroom, which had candlelight and roses on the bed, causing you to chuckle. You bit your lip, once he put you down on your feet at the edge of his bed.

You kissed him, taking his shirt off as he unzipped your dress, growling at the sight of your body, you weren't wearing a bra and just black panties.

"Wow, you are so perfect! Pretty girl with the pretty body," Terry said; his voice was sincere and low, making your panties have been wetter as he cupped your hips, slightly turning you to caress your ass.

"Ahh, Terry. I-I need that dick; I’m looking forward to wrapping my mouth around your dick," You moaned, sliding your hand down budge in his pants.

Terry moaned, leaning his forehead against yours, breath slightly hitched. "Fuck, that's what you want huh, have ."

"Mmm, yes, please, Terry. You can fuck my face as much as you want. I know you would love that?" You whispered in his ear, unzipping his pants and pushing them down.

You looked down to see his dick print. "Mmm, you're so big. I hope I fit your big dick in my mouth. Wouldn't you like that full mouth of your dick, Daddy?" You moaned, feeling him grasp your ass firmly as a reaction to you calling him that.

"Fuck, gonna be the death of me, baby girl. Getting on your fucking knees," Terry ordered, removing your hand and moving you down to the floor.

You look up at Terry lustfully as he takes his pants and underwear completely off before taking his big, hard throbbing dick in your eyesight, making your mouth water.

"Be a good girl, and suck it like you said you would," Terry said, shoving his dick in your mouth, causing you to moan; you popped him for a second before going back in.

You look at him, bobbing your head up and down his length, loving his expressions. "Ohhhh….baby, your mouth is perfect. Just like that, yes, baby fuck…."

"Do I look like a good little slut with your dick in my mouth?" You asked, pulling away for a second to stroke him with your hands, Terry gripped your hair gently.

You went back to suck him, moving your head up and down, giving him pleasure. "Mmmm, yes, baby," Terry says, without warning, he starts fucking your mouth.

You look up at him, feeling your eyes water slightly as the tip of his dick hits the back of your throat in an incredibly harsh way. "Ahhh, fuck lil mama, this-this so good"

Terry popped himself out of your mouth, and you gasped for air, chuckling as Salva dropped out of your mouth. "Fucking hit with your dick on my tongue, please, Daddy," you moaned.

Terry slapped his dick on your tongue. "You like that, huh? Nasty girl," He asked, completely amazed by you. "Mmm…yes! I love the way you taste." You said before letting you go back to suck.

You began stroking at the same time while still looking at him. "Mmm, daddy…I want all of your cum on my tongue. I want to taste it, Please, give it to me"

"Fuck, I'll give it to you since you've been such a good girl." Terry moaned, grabbing a chunk of your hair as he stroked his dick against your face.

You gripped the back of his legs; you could tell he was getting close to the edge by the way you were looking up at him. "fuck, fuck!!!!" Terry moaned.

His eyes rolled the back out of his head as he busted his full, hot load into your tongue; it got all over your face, causing you to smile at the sight.

You gazed up at Terry with a smile and sucked him back into your mouth, causing him to whimper slightly. "Fuck, you're killing me, girl," Terry moaned, watching you lick all the cum up.

He tried to catch his breath while walking to his bathroom to get a washcloth to wipe your face. Once cleaned up, you took your panties off, and Terry said, "Get on the bed and spread your legs for me."

You did what you were told, and Terry got on the bed and lifted your leg over his shoulder, loving the feel of the way he was looking up at you with those pretty eyes.

"Please, Daddy. I need you; I need your dick. I’m desperate to feel your dick throbbing inside me," You begged, craving him.

"Mmmm…be patient lil mama. I'mma give it to ya, but I want to taste this pretty pussy of yours…" Terry said before plunging his tongue between your wet folds.

His lips capture your clit, and he sucks it into his mouth, alternating between flicks with the tip of his tongue and light nibbles with his teeth.

"Ahh, ahhh, oh my goodness. Your tongue is..."You moaned and placed your hand on the back of his head as he went harder than before.

Terry pulls away for a second, rubbing your clit. "Mmm, I love this…I could eat this delicious pussy all night. Do you like it, beautiful? Do you like the way I'm eating this wet, juicy pussy."

"Ahh fuck, yes, daddy please more. I need you; I'm so close," You cried, gazing down at him for a second, and he grinned, sucking the soul out of you.

With no word, he began fingering you faster and harder then rubbing at your clit. "Ahh yes, just light that. Fuck, fuck i'm gonna cum yes, I'm gonna cum-!"

"That's it, good girl. Cum for me, cum for me, lil mama," Terry said, and your orgasm hit you hard, causing you to let out a scream of pleasure.

Terry slid you down to the edge of the other side of the bed, not waiting for you to calm down from your high before placing your leg on his shoulder to lay on your side.

"Fuck, daddy!" You moaned, feeling his slap on your pussy. Terry grabbed your leg and began stroking himself before moving to slide his dick up and down your wet folds.

"Please," you cried out, your voice thick with desperation as lust welled up inside you. "Please, what, baby?" Terry replied, his tone teasing yet earnest.

The soft light casts a warm glow on his features, accentuating his chiseled jawline and the intensity of his gaze. He looked utterly captivating, igniting hunger and urgency within you.

"Please fuck me but go slow; I want to feel every inch of that beautiful big dick entering my pussy, Daddy" You opened your mouth in an O as you looked up at him.

Terry thrusts the tip of his dick slowly into your pussy; you feel the tip was too much. “Wait, wait, ahh, I don’t think I can take it,” you cried, your voice slightly uncomfortable.

A rush of warmth surged through you, making your heart race. “Shh, baby girl,” Terry whispered softly, his voice soothingly against your rising anxiety.

“I’ll talk you through it; you can take it. You trust me, right?” He asked as his calm demeanor reassured you, and you bit your lip, feeling a flutter in your stomach.

After a moment’s hesitation, you nodded with determination. “Yes, I trust you, Daddy!” You said, looking at him shyly, and he smiled, taking his tip out slowly and preparing with a few fingers.

"Mmm, gotta open this tight little pussy up a little bit, so you can take this dick like a good girl right?" Terry asked, began fingering you a little bit, causing you to let out moans of pleasure.

"Yes, daddy. Am I your good girl? I want to earn your praise. Please tell me I’m your good girl," You moaned,

"You're such a good girl, baby, and you're doing so well for me," Terry said, still fingering you and gazing down at you with his eyes shimmered with pride.

"Keep those pretty eyes on me, beautiful girl." He says in his deep voice, and you obey and keep your eyes on him, feeling him go faster.

"Shit, daddy. Oh my god, you're stretching me out so good with your fingers." You moaned and struggled to break free, but his grip kept you in place.

Terry looked at you with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “You think you can take it now? I really believe you can,” he said, his voice encouraging.

You smiled back, a feeling of determination bubbling up inside you. “Yes, I’m ready to give it another shot." You said with a moan, and he nodded; his dick rubbed against your wet folds, not daring to enter.

Terry slowly enters your wet pussy with just the tip, it wasn't that bad like the first time, and he could tell by the expression on your face. So he continued to go and asked.

"You're doing so well, baby. Fuck, I wish you could see how you look, so pretty" Terry said, wrapping your legs around his waist, looking at you as your eyes were closed shut tight.

Terry came down to leave trails of kisses down your neck to soothe the slight pain that was quickly going away as he started to thrusted slowly.

"Yes! Fuck, yes! So fucking big, you stretched me out and filled me up so good, Daddy." You moaned, feeling a wave of deep pleasure washed over you.

"Good girl, I could say the same, baby. I love how you gripping me with that pussy like that," Terry moaned, continuing to thrust slowly and gently.

"Mmm, I’ve been thinking about this moment all day. So far, it's amazing; you're amazing, Terry." You moaned, touching his hip and loving feeling the rhythm of his thrust.

"Do you like that, baby? Can you take it going a little faster for me?" Terry said with a low moan coming out of his mouth, and you nodded.

You grabbed the sheets, looking up at him. "Mmm, yes, ah yes ah…go faster, please," You moaned, and he came down to pull you into a kiss while going faster in his thrusts.

You pulled away and let out a loud moan. "Yes, fuck me, yes, yes, Daddy!" You cried as Terry raised a bit to grip your waist as one of your hands moved to grip his muscular, toned arms.

Both of you stared at each other while moaning at the great pleasure you two were receiving. You were loving the way every inch of his dick was pounding inside your soaked, wet pussy.

You began rubbing your clit to feel yourself rising again. "Oh, Daddy, it feels so good. Please don't stop, don't stop fucking me. Oh, shit." You cried, couldn't believe the great pleasure you were feeling.

"I won't, baby, I won't ever stop, baby…fuck…that pussy clenching that dick," Terry groaned, pushing your legs to close and gripping your ass cheek.

He began pounding into you, making your eyes roll in your head as you moaned out. "Is this pussy yours? Are you going to take it, Daddy?"

Your breasts bounced with every rhythm of thrust he gave you. He wrapped his hand around your neck while putting a finger in your mouth.

"Yeah, of course, this pussy is mine! No one else, you got that?" He said with a moan, and your body again began to shake as you felt your second orgasm begin to build and rise quickly.

"Yes, that's right, it's all yours, Daddy. Oh, fuck I think I'm gonna cum again" You cried tears in your eyes, and he kissed, feeling your walls tightening around him, and the next thing you knew.

"Fuck, me too. Baby, me too," Terry moaned, and both of you came together.

"Shit, baby, here it comes," Terry cursed as he pulled out and stroked his dick. "Yes, Daddy, cum all over this ass, mmm, I want to feel it on my skin," You moaned.

Terry releases his hot cum against your round, plump ass cheek. His eyes were closed as you shook from the same, and he couldn't keep his balance.

You inhaled deeply as he tumbled onto you for a brief moment, the warmth of his body pressing against yours before he gracefully rolled onto his back, shifting to the other side of the bed.

You felt your heart race as you glanced over at him. His expression was blissful, a soft smile playing on his lips as he stared up at the ceiling, completely lost in the moment.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip, captivated by the sight of him. As you continued to watch him, lost in your thoughts, Terry turned his head and caught you staring.

And before you could react, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, soft and lingering. It sent a spark through you, making your heart race even more.

“Mmm, that was good,” he said, pulling back slightly, his eyes sparkling with mischief, “How ‘bout we hit the shower?.” He stretched his arms above his head, showing off those muscles, and you couldn’t help but admire how he moved.

You laughed a little, unable to stifle the smile that crept onto your face. “You just wanna get me all wet again, huh?” you teased, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Terry chuckled, leaning closer again. “Maybe, but I also wanna clean you up and eat that dinner I made. Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ it go to waste, especially not after all that work I put in.”

“Right, I forgot.” You sighed. “You think it’ll still taste good?” you added and Terry shrugged, the playful glint in his eyes never fading.

“It's in a crock-pot, so I think it's good, and it’ll be fire. But first, let’s wash off. C’mon, I’ll race you to the bathroom!”

A few moments later, he returned, grinning from ear to ear. “What’s taking you so long?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

You feigned a dramatic sigh, looking down at your legs. “I’m not sure I can move. I think I’ve lost feeling in my legs!” You wiggled them playfully, but it felt like a stretch to stand.

Terry’s smile widened as he approached you, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “I must have done some serious work if your legs feel like jello, huh?” He knelt down, reaching for you.

With a little laugh, you playfully pushed his shoulder as he picked you up and took you to the bathroom. At that moment, everything felt perfect, and you hoped to turn whatever this was into something memorable.

[the-fab-fox]

Okay so this has been something I've been chewing on for a long while. About making this post I mean.

This one is to those who actively ingest fanfiction but seem to think it's okay to just read free fiction that people have put time and thought and crafted prose for your enjoyment and do nothing in return.

All we ever ask for and all we ever want is for y'all to AT THE VERY LEAST hit that kudos button if you like the work. That is the BARE MINIMUM of what you SHOULD be doing. Especially all of you who say you're too nervous to comment or don't wish to be perceived. And if you don't want your account on the list, you can log out and send a guest kudos.

But as I said, BARE MINIMUM. If you loved the fic, if you got something out of it that left you feeling good and energized (or whatever angst does for y'all) then I want to take a moment and strongly urge you to comment, subscribe (if a wip), and bookmark those works. Did you know there's an option to even mark it as a Fic Recommendation? You can put notes in to and say why you liked it and things like that (DO NOT DO A RATING IN PUBLIC BOOKMARKS HOWEVER). And, you can indeed make them private! The writer still gets the number added to their stats but your bookmark we won't see.

Anyway, I now wanna turn your attention to Exhibit A:

This is a list of my best performing fics. Do you see the problem with this? The green highlights are the hits I've received for those fics. The red is the Kudos and comment threads. Now the kudos is obviously right?

Let's look at my number one fic right now, Accidentally in Love (a Malleyuu fic from Twisted Wonderland fandom). It's the seventh fic in a romance series. As you can see, it's doing great as far as hits, right? And I know it's an amazing fic from the comments I have received and just from rereading it myself. Note, I am probably the biggest bully to myself as @sunshineandteddybears and @mellosdrawings and @romantichopelessly can tell you in great detail. So when I am saying it's really damn good, you can probably trust it's gonna be pretty damn good. And yet, a fic that has 4K hits only has 119 kudos. And now to bring your attention to the comment threads. So honestly with how bad readers are on actually commenting (which by the way if you log off you can send anonymously as a guest—you'll have to put in your email address but we authors won't see that)... 107 seems pretty good right? But you guys don't see that. You see what's on the info for the story. Unfortunately, on the fic info at the top of the story, it counts every single comment (including the Author's). (The comment threads is just every single starting comment, i.e. the first comment received from each commenter.)

The thing is, I—and probably quite a few other writers—do respond to every single comment.

So that means where the info on my fic itself says 230 comments, in reality, I'm at half that when I subtract my half of the comments. So that's actually 115 comments from other people. So some people might see that 230 and think oh they got a lot of comments so I don't think they want to hear from me or I can't be fucked and they're already doing good so.

NO. NO. NO. Do not look at the numbers as a guide if a fic is good or not. Do not look at the numbers and think that we don't need or deserve to get any more. And finally WE WANT TO HEAR FROM Y'ALL.

Excuses need to stop.

Speaking of numbers. Here's my over all stats current on AO3.

In the 3 years on this AO3 account (I've had others in the past and accounts on ff.net and live journal. I'm an oldie fanfic writer lol. 21 years of fanfic. My gods. 🤣) It didn't used to be like this guys. Back in the day I'd get 12 plus comments on a chapter and this is on stuff a teenager wrote.

We have got to get back to the point of supporting each other and building each other up. Also while I'm at it, I have a huge beef with the fact that fanartists get so much more positive feedback and replies and comments, but the thing is, even their numbers are skewed. You can go into the notes of a fanart on here that has 10k notes to see they have maybe 100-1K reblogs (if that, I'm being generous) and maybe 10 or so replies (if turned on) and the rest are all likes. EVERYONE has been on here long enough by now to know that likes do nothing to get a post in the algorithm and tags only do so much. Reblogs are the only way their art (or our fanfictions for people who post them on here) gets seen! By sharing!

So y'all gotta get better. Yes, we write for ourselves first, but ultimately a story is meant to be shared with everyone and feedback should not be optional if you're actively reading the fics or viewing the art for free and enjoyed it!

TLDR:

IF YOU FUCKING LIKE A FANFIC. KUDOS AT THE VERY LEAST BUT BE BETTER. COMMENT. BOOKMARK. SUBSCRIBE IF IT'S A WIP YOU LOVE. (Like, comment and reblog if on Tumblr)

IF YOU FUCKING LIKE A FANART ON TUMBLR. COMMENT. LIKE. REBLOG.

DO BETTER AS READERS AND US WRITERS AND ARTISTS WILL GIVE YOU THE WORLD (AND MANY OTHER WORLDS TO BOOT)

That is all. Please reblog the fuck out of this if you agree.

(and tagging my current and last fandoms so this can get in fandom spaces where it needs to be.)

[vengefultakeover]

A Dance of Life and Death

I was never a dancer. I was tall, wide, and chubby. I could barely walk let alone perform the dance moves I had seen some of these performers. I took care of the campus, making sure the rooms were well kept, the equipment returned after rehearsals, and the trash didn't overflow with half eaten granola bars and pre-made salads.

I was watching one of the rehearsal one day, my arms crossed and my eyes following the movements of the dancers as they made sure their movements were crisp in the long mirror. There was one man in particular that always caught my eye and he would catch me looking at him in the mirror. I never said anything to him, thinking he would definitely say no. I was about his age so why couldn't we go out on a date? Rehearsal ended and I was going to say something to him, but decided against it. Unfortunately, he caught me before I could leave.

"Why do you always stare at me?" He was much more aggressive than I thought he was going to me.

"Sorry, you all are just so good at what you do." I said with a smile, meeting him with kindness.

"Well stop. You always distract me. Do whatever it is your good at." He crushed a plastic water bottle and tossed it on the ground. He shoved himself past me and I watched him walk away while my face flushed hot.

"That was rude." I heard a voice say.

"Right?" I responded. When I turned to see who it was I found that I was alone with the crushed bottle on the ground. I thought nothing of it, to distracted by the fact that this man was so cruel. I don't know why I expected any less.

The following day it was business as usual except I made sure I wasn't in view when i was watching them rehearse. I peered around the window and watched as the pre-recorded piano filled the studio. I didn't think he would notice, but somehow he did. Over the next few days i was finding things that had never been there before, knocked over equipment, garbage bins that had been tipped over, even writing in the bathroom specifically calling me out for being a creep. I didn't know what to do except talk to him.

So, rehearsal finished on the day I had enough and I walked right up to him. The room cleared quickly and we were left alone. He was shirtless except for a pair of black shorts cut to leave nothing to the imagination. He smirked when I stopped in front of him.

"What did I do to you?" I asked.

"You're just creepy." He rolled his eyes and started walking away from me.

"Don't walk away when I'm talking to you." I pulled his arm. I regretted it immediately. I wasn't sure what came over me.

"Don't fucking touch me. You're nothing and you always will be." He spit on the ground. "Now clean that up." My face got so hot that I thought steam would come out of my ears or my eyes would burst inside their sockets, but instead everything went black. When I finally came to I was looking at the dancer on the ground with blank eyes. I didn't know what happened, but from what I could tell I must have pushed him too hard and he knocked out.

I checked for a pulse. Nothing.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" I made sure no one had seen anything before I tried making a plan. Do I call the police? I could say he fell. But he's a dancer, he's supposed to have excellent balance. They would never believe me.

While I was panicking, his body started to move behind me. His chest puffed up and his mouth opened and snapped shut. His fingers curled just as his arms would twist and I finally turned around to him standing up.

"Holy shit are you okay?" I was reaching out to him, but he just gasped as he looked down at himself. Was he admiring his body? Maybe he had a concussion.

"It feels so good to be alive again." He went from checking himself out to doing stretches. Arms extending across his body, legs jumping and finally a roll of his neck. Something popped back into place just as he locked eyes with me.

"What's happening?" I was confused. Still panicking because of the assault charges that might come my way. Maybe he didn't remember?

"I'm sorry about the way he treated you. You didn't deserve that all." He reached his hand out and gently caressed my arm.

"He? What do you mean?"

"Oh. That little burst of anger was super helpful. When he knocked out it gave me full access to his body. You see, I've been watching you for a while now. I'm an old dance instructor here. Years ago now. Too many. I always thought dancing was for everyone no matter how you looked." He was standing oddly close and this sudden change in attitude was alarming albeit much more flattering.

"I think you may have hit your head a little hard. I'll call someone." I said, turning away. I felt him grab my hand and then pull me towards him.

"It's been so long since I've felt another person. I love a man with some meat on his bones." He was staring into my eyes as I looked down at him and I was definitely starting to tent my work pants.

"What's happening?"

"I'm dead! Well not anymore thanks to you. That's what I've been trying to say. He died and I took his place. Honestly it works out for all of us. You don't go to jail for murder, I get a new body, and the world no longer has an asshole running around. Especially packing a weapon like this." He had pulled open his shorts and was now staring inside.

"I think maybe I should go." I said. I wasn't confused anymore, maybe a little frightened.

"I think you should get to use this body just like I am going to. A nice reward for putting up with his shit. He really treated you like dirt." He looked down again, distracted momentarily by his bouncing pecs. His eyes darted to my hands and he reached out and grabbed them, cupping his bulge with my fingers. I didn't pull away, I was too enthralled with this new person.

"I think I'd like that." I said, my fingers squeezing. He enjoyed that.

"Maybe we can hang around each other. Like I said. I love a man with some meat." He reached down and grabbed my cock, but I knew he just meant me. I stumbled backwards when he pushed into me, my back hitting the mirrors. We were suddenly swept up in touching each other, his hands sliding up my shirt while my hands slide along his body. We were both admiring each other, something he probably wouldn't have done without this new entity controlling him. I definitely didn't mind, especially when his hand slipped into my pants and started squeezing my cock.

"Are you two okay?" The voice came from the door, it was a stage manager. I pushed him off the moment I heard her.

"Yeah, just clearing things up." I said. This seemed to appease her because she squinted with her thick black binder and disappeared out the door. I sighed in relief and looked at the dancer.

"What even is your name?" I asked.

"I used to be called Franklin. Last name Frick. From what I can tell my new name is Peter. I kind of like it." He flexed again.

"Well, I'm Mitch. Nice to meet you." I held out my hand. I wasn't sure why but it felt like a proper greeting.

"Oh I know. I've been watching you since you started here. I'm happy I finally get the chance to get to know you." He grabbed my hand and started pulling me out of the building. I noticed on the way way out the name of the founder of the studio, his name flashing in bold as we passed it. Franklin Frick.

[cosmicalily]

"love (and caffeine) on the brain" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist and outline here

month 9: midnights are for us | barista!kim seungmin x fem!reader

author's note: omg omg to have a cute boyfriend who would open up his coffee shop for me on a whim at 3am :(

It was late, and you’d been ready for bed for ages, but had done almost everything to keep each other from falling asleep. Hours scrolling through TikTok on Seungmin’s phone, laughing at videos that weren’t remotely funny, your back pressed against his chest, his legs either side of you. At some point, you’d stuck your head through the top of his hoodie, and although you were both now completely overheating, you felt close to him, and the way he was pressing kisses into your hair every few videos was making you very sleepy.

Suddenly, you got an idea. You pulled yourself out of his hoodie, and Seungmin whined a little at the loss of contact. Chuckling, you hauled yourself onto him, pressing your nose to his and knocking his phone to the ground in the process. 

“Hi,” Seungmin mumbled, cheeks flushing a little at how close you were to him all of a sudden.

“Hi,” you whispered back, blinking slowly. “I have an idea.”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “It’s 11pm, and you’re slightly delirious…I don’t know if I trust you.”

“Let’s go to your coffee shop!”

“Baby, it’s almost midnight,” Seungmin laughed. “Why do you wanna go? There’s no way we’re having coffee this late, and I can make it for you at home.”

“You don’t have the strawberry milk to make my matchas at home, though.” 

Seungmin spent the next few minutes trying to convince you that the normal milk in your fridge was just as good, and that there was no point walking the short distance down the road in the cold and dark just for one drink, but you had your mind set on this mission, and weren’t giving up anytime soon.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Seungmin mumbled under his breath as he grabbed one of your scarves to put on. Whatever pseudo grudge he had been holding against you immediately melted as you wrapped the baby pink wool around your head like a bonnet. He bit his tongue to stop himself from smiling, but he failed, and you laughed at him.

“You think I’m cute,” you teased.

“Is it a crime to think the person you’ve been dating for nine months is cute?”

“Sure it is, Minnie,” you smiled a little at the way his hand melted a little into yours when you used his beloved pet name.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Seungmin sighed, feigning annoyance. You made your way down the elevator, linking your fingers with his and grinning up at him every few moments, a gesture that made his heart want to explode. And when you started twisting the single ring on his finger, the one you’d gifted him for his birthday, he thought he could actually feel his heart set on fire.

Then you had the audacity to press a tiny kiss to the top of the ring.

You were truly going to be the death of him one day.

“Seung, the elevator stopped, c’mon!” You dragged him by his hand out of the lift, running out the front of the doors. He squeezed your fingers, then crossed the road with you. You walked down the street, peaceful in the late hours of the night, until you reached a familiar glass door. Seungmin fished around in his pocket for his keys, then unlocked the door and turned on the lights. You sat on the counter beside him as he turned on the coffee machine and began making your strawberry matcha, the very drink he’d made you when you’d first met a year ago. The very drink he’d used to indirectly ask you out nine months ago.

You were spoiled, you knew it. Not many boyfriends would be willing to open their coffee shop for a singular customer in the middle of the night, but you weren’t just any customer. You were his, and currently in your pink scarf, cheeks a little flushed in the cold, you were fucking adorable, and Seungmin wondered if it was possible to fall in love with someone even more each second.

“Here you go,” he sighed, feigning frustration as he handed you the mug. 

You sipped the pink foam and exhaled in appreciation. “Oh my God, how is it even better each time?”

“Give me a try,” Seungmin leaned forward, and you held out the mug. He dodged it, licking a bit of the foam from your lips before kissing you. His lips moved against yours, taking in the sweet, sweet strawberry taste. You were in such a shock that you almost dropped the mug, but his hand was quick to move under the base, holding it in place.

“I came all this way to make you this drink. I’m not losing it because my girlfriend got flustered that I kissed her,” he said, smirking a little.

“Thanks, baby,” you mumbled sleepily, yawning.

“Hold the mug steady, I’m taking you home. Let’s go to sleep.”

He pulled you in by your stomach and lifted you up by your legs, so you were being carried facing him. You nestled your head in his shoulder as he entered your apartment building, gently humming against him. He kissed your cheeks, your chin, your nose, but most of all, your lips, as you waited for the elevator, and while you rode it to your apartment. As soon as you entered, you were almost asleep. He gently padded into your bedroom, laid you down on the bed, slipping in beside you, hands around your waist.

“Love you, Min.”

“Love you too.”

taglist: @hyunjiiza @zelinkcrossing @velvetmoonlght @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @nappynapnaps @yaniluvs - comment, dm or send an ask to be added :)

[boykisser4]

The Breakaway

pairing: Naoya Zenin x male reader

warnings: toxic & abusive relationship, things get physical, no nsfw

Naoya Zenin sat at the counter of his favorite coffee shop, the warm glow of the pendant lights reflecting off his glasses. He stared at the steaming cup of black coffee, his thoughts swirling like the milk in a latte art design. The scent of freshly ground beans filled the air, a comforting aroma that was a stark contrast to the chaos in his mind. His thumb traced the edge of the worn book in front of him, a habit when he was deep in thought. The barista called out the next order with a cheerful tone that grated on his nerves, pulling him out of his introspection.

The door chimed as the m/n entered, the cool evening breeze bringing a hint of rain with it. He scanned the room, his eyes finally landing on Naoya. A flicker of something unreadable crossed Naoya's face before he forced a smile, beckoning him over. As m/n approached, Naoya took in his damp hair, the way his sweatshirt clung to his frame, and the faint scent of rain on his skin. He felt a pang of guilt, knowing that their relationship had been strained for months. m/n slid onto the stool, setting down his own book. They used to share a passion for reading, but lately, it felt like the only thing they had in common was the silence that stretched between them.

Naoya took a sip of his coffee, the bitter taste doing little to warm his soul. "You picked a good night to come out," he said, trying to keep his voice light. m/n nodded, his eyes flitting to the book Naoya had been staring at. "What's new?" The question hung in the air, a loaded invitation to bridge the gap that had grown between them.

m/n hesitated, then slid his own book across the counter. "Just started this one. It's supposed to be a gripping thriller." Naoya recognized the title, a bestseller he had read last year. He nodded, searching for something to say that didn't involve the heavy weight of their reality. "I remember the plot twist at the end," he said, smiling faintly. "It's a real page-turner."

The silence grew heavier, each tick of the clock behind the counter echoing in the space between them. Naoya's stomach clenched as he considered the state of their relationship. It had started off with late-night study sessions and stolen kisses in quiet corners, evolving into something beautiful and full of promise. But somewhere along the line, it had turned toxic. Jealousy and accusations had seeped in, corroding the foundation they had built.

"Look, I know things have been... rough," Naoya began, his voice low and earnest. He reached out, placing his hand over the m/n's. It was cold from the rain outside, but the gesture was met with a tense stillness. "I just want to fix this, okay?"

m/n's eyes remained on their joined hands, his own grip tightening around his coffee cup. "I don't know if it's that simple, Naoya," he said, his voice laced with a weariness that hadn't been there before.

Naoya felt the temperature in the room drop as m/n's words settled over them. He withdrew his hand, the sudden absence of contact leaving his skin feeling cold. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice strained.

m/n sighed, his gaze finally meeting Naoya's. "I mean that maybe we can't just fix this with a conversation over coffee," he said, his voice steady but laced with sadness. "It's been going on for so long, and I've tried to ignore it, to believe it would get better, but..." He trailed off, taking a shaky breath.

Naoya's expression hardened, his grip on his mug tightening until his knuckles turned white. "What are you saying?" he demanded, his voice raising just a notch.

m/n's eyes widened at the sudden shift in Naoya's demeanor. He took a step back, the stool scraping against the tiles. "I'm saying we need a break," he clarified, his voice trembling slightly. "Some time apart to figure things out."

Naoya's jaw clenched as he processed the words. "A break?" he echoed, his voice a dangerous whisper. He stood up so abruptly that his chair toppled over, the clatter startling the nearby patrons. "Is that what you think this is? Just something to put on pause?"

m/n's eyes darted around the room, seeking an escape from the confrontation that was escalating rapidly. He took another step back, his hand hovering near his book as if it could serve as a shield. "Naoya, please," he pleaded, his voice barely above a murmur.

But Naoya didn't hear the desperation in his tone. The anger had taken over, turning his eyes a stormy shade of blue. He took a step closer, his fists clenching at his sides. "You think you can just walk away from this?" he spat, his voice a mix of fury and disbelief. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"

m/n heart raced, his eyes searching for any sign of the person he had once loved in the man before him. "Naoya, please," he said again, his voice shaking. "This isn't good for either of us. We both need some time to think."

But Naoya's anger was a living thing, coiling around them like smoke from an unseen fire. "Think about what?" he snarled, stepping closer still. "Think about how you can't trust me? How you think I'd ever hurt you?" His hand shot out, grabbing the reader's wrist, his grip painfully tight.

m/n flinched, trying to pull away, but Naoya's hold was like a vice. "Naoya, please," he gasped, his eyes wide with fear. "You are hurting me."

Naoya's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening. "You think I don't know what you've been thinking?" he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You've been pulling away for weeks. Do you have someone else?"

m/n's heart hammered in his chest, his mind racing to find the right words. "It's not about that," he said, his voice shaking. "It's about us, Naoya. We're not good for each other like this."

Naoya's grip on m/n's wrist tightened, his eyes flashing with rage. "Don't lie to me," he spat, leaning in so close that their noses almost touched. "You've been seeing someone else, haven't you?"

m/n's breath hitched in his throat, his eyes wide with shock and fear. He tried to shake his head, but Naoya's grip didn't allow it. "No, Naoya," he managed to choke out. "I haven't. Please, you're hurting me."

But Naoya was beyond the point of reason. His eyes searched m/n's face, desperation and anger melding into one volatile cocktail. Without warning, he yanked m/n closer, their bodies colliding. m/n stumbled, his mug of coffee slipping from his hand and shattering on the floor. The sound of porcelain breaking seemed to echo through the room, the scalding liquid splattering across their shoes. The other patrons looked over, a mix of curiosity and alarm on their faces, but no one dared to interfere.

Naoya's hand was around m/n's throat now, his thumb pressing into the delicate skin. m/n's eyes watered as he struggled to breathe, his hands clawing at Naoya's wrist. "Tell me the truth," Nate growled, spittle flying from his lips. "Who is it?"

m/n's eyes searched the room, desperate for help, but the coffee shop patrons had retreated to their corners, their eyes averted from the scene unfolding before them. His vision began to blur, and he knew he had to act fast. He brought his knee up sharply, connecting with Naoya's groin. Naoya's grip loosened with a pained grunt, and m/n took the opportunity to wrench himself free, stumbling backward.

Naoya doubled over, clutching his crotch with a snarl of pain. "You fucking...," he managed, his voice strained. m/n took a step back, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath. "You think you can just leave me?" Naoya's voice was a mix of agony and rage as he straightened, his eyes never leaving the reader's.

m/n own anger began to boil over. "You're the one who's making this impossible," he shouted back, his voice echoing in the suddenly quiet coffee shop. "You're the one who can't control yourself. Who can't handle the truth!"

Naoya's hand shot out again, grabbing m/n's shirt and yanking him closer. m/n's eyes blazed with a mix of fear and determination as he shoved Naoya away with all his strength. Naoya staggered back, knocking over a nearby chair with a clatter. The barista called out a warning, but the two men were lost in their own tumultuous world.

"Don't touch me," m/n spat, his voice shaking. "You're not going to bully me into staying with you."

Naoya's face contorted into an ugly sneer, the rage in his eyes burning hotter than the coffee that now stained the floor. He took a step forward, his hands balled into fists. "You think you can just walk away?" he roared, his voice echoing through the coffee shop. The other patrons had gone silent, their conversations stilled by the explosive tension that hung in the air.

m/n took a step back, his own anger rising to meet Nate's. "I've had enough of this," he said, his voice firm. "I don't want to fix things if it means living in fear of your temper."

Naoya's eyes narrowed, his hand flexing into a fist. "You think you're so above this?" he sneered. "You think you can just leave me like I'm some sort of disposable toy?"

m/n felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead as he took another step back. "This isn't about pride, Naoya," he said, his voice shaking. "It's about respect. And right now, you're not showing any."

Naoya's face twisted into something almost feral, and m/n could see the muscles in his arms tensing. "You want respect?" he yelled, his fist slamming down onto the counter, making the coffee cups jump. "You'll get it when you admit you're mine!"

m/n's eyes filled with a mix of anger and despair. This wasn't the Naoya he had fallen for, the sweet, gentle soul who had whispered poetry into his ear during those early morning study sessions. This was a monster, a shadow of the person he used to know. "Let go of me," he said, his voice low and firm.

[adda-j]

I hope you don't mind me adding my own take on some designs! :)

(Extra design notes/lore ideas for those interested under the cut.)

General design notes:

- his eyes are still yellow, but turn blue when using the Black Arms powers

- the brightest blue parts are actually luminescent

- still show some darker colors, since I though pure white would be boring

- I imagine the forms are fire/lava proof, since he grew up in a literal hellhole

Doom Wing:

- the wings are longer and thinner than Shadow's, good for long flights and passive soaring, but not as good at making quick turns

- the bottom part is thin and ribbon like and trails behing him when he flies, doesn't have much practical purpose, I just thought it looked nice

- using them a lot sometimes discolors his quills

Doom Morph:

- long and eel-like, the individual tentacles "twist" together, turning into two long tentacles at the end (something like a squid's)

Doom Surf:

- based on an orca, I think they are neat

Lore Ideas?:

Honestly him being a different color from the other Black Arms should have some lore-significance, since they are literally named after a color and he's the exact opposite. Though I don't know how or how significant, could be anywhere from "he just looks weird" to "this thing has been prophesied to wipe out our entire race, and therefore must be eliminated at any cost". So yeah, I feel like there's some fun to be had with the idea.

I also keep thinking about his possible connection to the Hivemind. It could be possible he just can't due to not having enough Black Arms blood, but that's just boring. So I was thinking, since he already has psychic powers, maybe his could be a bit different.

So he's connected to it since the beginning, but it's not like he really knows it, considering there are no Black Arms left in his original timeline. But due to his powers he tends to project rather loudly into it, and strong emotions tend to amplify it. Even when he's calm, there always a sort of "white noise" surrounding him, but this quickly fades with physical distance. But if he were let's say... fighting for his life? There wouldn't be a place on the planet you couldn't hear him from.

Maybe it could be bit of a left-over habit from childhood, where he would have needed a lot of help from others to survive. Instinctually calling for help in any way he could, even if he never got any response back...

So yeah, that's about what I've got for now. But I'd love to hear what everyone else has come up with!

People talking about what if Shadow was Silver’s dad y’know but NOT ONCE have I seen anyone say that if that’s true, then Silver has black arms blood

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Tw: angst

Series masterlist

The soft sound of the baggage carousel echoed in the dimly lit terminal as Noah stood there, fingers drumming lightly on his thigh. The past two days passed so quickly.

With the two days of traveling, performing and then traveling again, he had barely had time to think—except, of course, for one thing: you. And Luna. The thought of you two had never left him during the long hours on the road.

Noah smiled faintly at the thought of finally coming home. Even though only two days had passed, it felt like weeks, and now he just wanted to come back to you. He couldn’t wait to hold you again, to feel your arms around him, and to kiss you the way he had been missing.

Despite the physical exhaustion, his mind felt clearer than it had in days. He realized something during these past two days away: that no matter how Jason looked at you, the way his eyes lingered just a little too long, like he wanted you all for himself, the way he would go to the café just to talk to you, the way he would prentend to be so nice and kind now, he knew the truth.

You were Noah’s. And Noah was yours.

And the distance had done him good. Two days apart had helped clear the fog from his mind. He wasn’t going to let that gnawing insecurity eat at him anymore. He wasn’t going to let it ruin his peace, his relationship, or what he had with you. It didn’t matter how Jason looked at you or said—it was Noah you came home to. Noah you loved.

And that realization brought a sense of relief he really needed.

The soft murmur of his bandmates laughing and talking pulled him back to the present. Matt was the closest to him, fiddling with his phone, scrolling absentmindedly, while the others were cracking jokes about the tour.

"You almost tripped, I saw that!" Jolly laughed.

"Me? Nah, it wasn't me." Nicholas tried to convince him.

Noah chuckled to himself, his gaze softening.

He really couldn't wait to get his baggage, travel a couple of hours more and get home to you and Luna, but before that moment arrived, something caught Matt’s attention.

He had been aimlessly scrolling through Twitter, a little too tired to engage, looking at memes and raccoons pictures, but out of habit, he found himself looking up posts from the previous night’s show. Just some fan reactions and thoughts. And then, unexpectedly, it happened.

He didn't understand immediately. Why was that picture tagged as 'bad omens'?

Matt’s fingers froze as his thumb stopped scrolling. There was a photo, blurry and grainy, from a distance. It wasn’t much—taken at night, the porch barely lit—but there was enough detail to recognize that house. The one Matt has been many times to visit Noah, the one he’d been so proud of.

It was Noah’s house.

And standing on the porch, framed in the dim light, was you.

But you weren’t alone.

A man was standing too close to you—Matt didn't know who he was but he had a feeling he could easily guess. His hand was placed on your arm in one of the pictures, in another one, your hand was on his chest, your faces just inches apart.

Matt’s stomach twisted, and he leaned closer to the screen, squinting at the figure. This wasn't about him, it was about Noah, but still, his heart pounded a little faster as he clicked on the image to enlarge it.

Then, he looked at a couple of other pictures and a short video. It was you for sure. And that was Noah's house.

@/Erikka_1999, the original poster, had tagged the post with #badomens, #NoahSebastian, and #homewrecking. The hashtags were cruelly apt.

Matt didn’t need to see the comments to feel his stomach turn, this was the last thing he wanted to happen to his friend. But still, he scrolled down.

@/user7216: What the fuck is this?

@/noahstwitchstreams: wait is that Noah's gf?

@/lisa_omens: What is Y/N doing????

@/olisykesdavis: girl, not when noah is in another state

@/bomensandmore: This is so messed up...who tf is that man?

@/silent-stories: let's not jump to conclusions guys!!

@/concreteoomens: I KNEW ITTTT

@/noahsdailys: maybe they broke up??

@/user2727ii: they were together 2 days ago???

"Shit," Matt muttered under his breath, his voice filled with disbelief and frustration. His first instinct was to confront Noah, but even before he got the chance, the band began to gather their things, preparing to head toward the exit. Matt hesitated, then stood up quickly, phone in his hand.

He needed to talk to Noah. He needed to show him. He deserved to know.

Noah was standing by the baggage claim, his attention half on the carousel and half on his thoughts. The sight of the suitcases coming out on the conveyor belt didn’t even register to him; he was lost in the image of you, of coming home to you and telling you that the way be reacted in the past couple of days was a bit too much, that he was just scared of losing you, that he loved you.

He imagined the softness of your hands, the way your lips would feel pressed against his neck as you whispered his name again. His heartbeat quickened at the thought of seeing you.

But then Matt was in front of him, holding up his phone up for him to see.

"Hey, man," Matt said, his voice unusually tense. "You need to see this."

Noah didn’t immediately register the urgency in Matt’s voice. "What’s up?" he asked, glancing up in confusion.

Matt shoved the phone toward him without another word, and Noah, a little confused, looked at it.

The moment his eyes landed on the screen, everything seemed to stop.

He could feel his blood run cold, his body stiffening as his heart pounded painfully in his chest. The first thing he saw was the porch—his porch—and there, standing in the weak light, was you. And the man standing far too close to you—no mistaking it—was Jason.

Noah’s breath hitched, and a cold sweat prickled down his neck. He didn’t even need to look at the hashtags, didn’t need to see the comments. He already knew what was happening. This wasn’t just a misunderstanding. This was betrayal. There was no explanation for the short video showing of you pushing Jason into the house.

His hands started to shake. His chest felt like it was caving in, the weight of the world pressing down on him, suffocating him. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“This... no. This can't be. Not again." His voice cracked as he whispered the words, trying to deny it, trying to make sense of it all, but he knew. He knew in his gut what this was.

Jason had been lingering, making his move, and now he was there—at Noah’s house, with you. The person Noah loved. The one person he thought he could finally trust and wouldn't stab in the back when he left for just two fucking days.

"I'm sorry, man." Matt whispered.

Noah's breath came in short gasps, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He didn’t even hear Matt's words.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” He finally managed to say, his voice hoarse and strained, barely holding it together. His gaze was still fixed on the screen, but he could no longer process the image. The betrayal was all he could feel. “Tell the others. I'll... I'll be right back.”

Without waiting for Matt to respond, Noah turned sharply on his heel and made his way toward the nearest bathroom, his heart heavy with the weight of everything crashing down on him for the second time in his life.

His mind raced as he pushed through the terminal, each step feeling like it was taking him further away from reality.

He shoved the bathroom door open, the bright lights inside feeling too harsh against the overwhelming darkness creeping in. As soon as the door slammed shut behind him and he realized no one else was there, Noah collapsed against the cool tiles, his back pressed against the wall, his knees weak beneath him.

His breath was ragged now, coming in shallow, desperate gasps. He felt like someone was pressing on his chest with a boot.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout at the top of his lungs. But all he could do was sit there, utterly devastated, his mind replaying the scene over and over— your hand on Jason's chest, you pulling him inside his house.

Tears welled up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Not yet. Not here.

His heart felt shattered, the pieces scattered and irreparable.

You were one of the most important people in his life. You were the one who proved to him that he was capable of loving again after Hannah had left him. You were the one who showed him that it was possible to be loved by someone who wouldn’t leave or break his heart a second time. Or so he thought.

Noah pressed his palm to his face, the weight of the betrayal almost too much to bear. His fingers trembled as they brushed against his skin and tangled in his own hair, trying to find something, anything to steady himself. But nothing worked. Nothing would ever fix this.

He hoped it was all just a bad dream, that any moment he would wake up next to you, at home. But as the minutes dragged on, the cold of the tiles beneath him became unbearably real.

He found himself wondering whether you would still be there when he got home, or if, like he had seen Hannah do once before, you would have already packed your things and left. He cursed himself for being so stupid, believing that this time things would turn out differently, that the universe wouldn't play the same trick on him once more.

The world outside felt distant, muffled, as he sat there alone in the bathroom, surrounded by the deafening silence of his own thoughts.

The morning light filtered through the window, gently brushing against your closed eyelids. You woke up suddenly, feeling a strange heaviness on your body. A deep breath, your heart racing a little faster, and then it hit you: you had fallen asleep on the couch, and Jason was still there, beside you. The scent of alcohol and smoke lingered in the air.

Damn it.

You didn’t even have time to check the clock before you were already shaking Jason, stirring him awake with urgency in your voice. "Hey! Jason! It’s time to get up, you need to leave. Get out. Of this house. Now." Your voice trembled, frustration and maybe a little panic slipping through as you tried to shake him out of his heavy sleep.

"Jason! C'mon! Get the fuck up! Go away and I never wanna see you again."

Jason stretched, his eyes barely open, but when they fluttered fully awake, his expression was one of confusion. "What? Y/N, calm—" but he didn’t finish his sentence.

Just then, the front door opened. Noah walked in, his steps heavy and deliberate, and the moment he saw the scene, his face paled, his breath catching in his chest. "What the fuck is going on here?!"

The air seemed to freeze. Jason’s eyes snapped towards Noah, and for a split second, everything went silent. Noah’s gaze was burning with anger, but there was something else there too, he was hurt. He looked at you for a moment, searching your face for an explanation, but the confusion gave way to rage as he took in the situation.

"Get the hell out, dude. Now." Noah’s voice was low, filled with an anger that you’d never heard before. His fists were clenched at his sides, his body tense.

Jason didn’t move immediately. "Man, wait, listen-"

Noah cut him off, voice rising. "I said, get out before I fucking break your face." The words were harsh, cruel, and they hung in the air between them.

Jason tried to speak, but Noah was already walking toward him. He reached forward, grabbing Jason by his jacket and showing him toward the door, not giving him a chance to argue.

Jason hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on you.

"Get out of my fucking house!" Noah shouted.

Slowly, he turned and headed toward the door, but just before leaving, he shot one last glance at you. The look in his eyes was the look of someone who got exactly what he wanted, but you barely had time to register it before Noah slammed the door behind him.

This was part of Jason's plan, this was what he wanted. Damn, you had been so stupid.

"Noah..." you began as soon as he started walking toward you again, but the words got caught in your throat. You wanted to explain, but you knew it wouldn’t be easy. You knew he was going to jump to conclusions. The wrong ones.

His eyes were hard, though there was something raw in them too. Something that almost broke you. "What the hell is going on, Y/N? What the hell was that?"

You took a step forward, reaching for him, but Noah flinched away from your touch.

"Noah, please, let me explain—"

"Explain?" He cut you off, his voice shaky but full of anger. "What the hell do you want to explain? What is there to explain? He was here, in my house, with you!"

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you tried to hold them back, knowing how badly you’d hurt him. "No, Noah, it’s not like that, please. You need to believe me. Jason was drunk. He didn’t have anywhere else to go. I didn’t want to just leave him on the street. You weren’t here, I didn't want him to make a scene and wake half neighborhood up, trust me, it happened once, and—"

"No, Y/N." His voice cracked, and the pain in his eyes made your chest tighten. "No, this isn’t just some fucking misunderstanding. This is not the first time, isn’t it? This is not the fucking first time you make excuses for him. You’re defending him when he gets into fights, you keep his damn necklace, you try to convince that he's not still in love with you—and now this? What the fuck am I supposed to think, huh?"

His words felt like punches to your gut, and you could barely breathe. "Noah, I swear, it wasn’t like that. I love you. You have to believe me. Please, just let me explain. He was drunk as fuck and I didn't know what to do. Maybe I fucked up but it's not what you think and-"

He took a shaky breath, shaking his head as if he couldn’t even process what you were saying. "I’m not hearing it anymore. I can’t keep doing this. I thought you loved me. But since that motherfucker came back, it’s been like everything I thought I knew is falling apart." He looked at you, his eyes full of hurt. "I can’t keep doing this. Not this time. This... it’s too much."

You felt the tears begin to slip down your cheeks, the weight of it all crashing down on you. "Noah, please don’t say that. Please, I need you to believe me. I’m not—I’m not doing this to hurt you. I didn't want to hurt you. Noah, I love you and I've been so fucking stupid to think that Jason maybe had changed and was a fucking normal human being now."

He stood there, his chest heaving as he took a long look at you. "What do you think this looks like? What am I supposed to think when I come home, and he is in my house, with you? Do you know there are pictures online? Pictures and videos of how he arrived here, talked to you a bit still outside and then you pushed him into the house. You probably didn't see them cause you were too busy fucking your ex while I was away for only two fucking days!"

"Fuck- Noah. You think I had sex with him? You think I really cheated on you?"

"Well, I don't know what to think anymore now!"

"Noah, he was drunk and I didn't know what to do! I didn't-"

"I don’t care!" Noah’s voice rose, cutting you off. "I don’t care. I don’t care what his fucking excuse is. You don’t get to do this to me. Not again. Not after everything we’ve been through. I can’t—" He stopped, his voice faltering for a second, but he quickly steadied himself. "I can’t do this anymore, Y/N. I... this hurts."

Your heart shattered, and you took a shaky breath, staring at him, trying to process what he’d just said. "What do you mean? What are you saying?"

Noah’s face was unreadable, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger, heartbreak, and resignation. "I’m saying that I can’t go on like this. I don’t want to. This is the second time someone I loved broke my heart, okay? I can't - I can't do it anymore. I thought you were different. I thought I had something with you. Turns out I was wrong. Turns out everybody leaves me, eventually."

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died in your throat. He’d already made up his mind.

"But I don't wanna leave."

"It's better if you do."

"Please, Noah," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Please don’t do this."

He looked at you. More than mad at you, he looked so disappointed. "I don’t know how to fix this, Y/N. And I don’t think I can." He shook his head, his voice quieter now. "You need to go."

You wanted to scream, to beg him to stay, to make him understand, but you knew it was already too late. The damage had been done.

You stood there, the weight of Noah's words still echoing in your ears, your heart a heavy lump in your chest.

The thought of never seeing him again hit you like a wave. Never again would you fall asleep in his arms, your body curling against his as you spent lazy nights together, watching anime until you both drifted off to sleep.

The way he would murmur nonsense into your ear as his fingers played through your hair, the sound of his rough, sleepy voice in the mornings that always made you smile.

Those little moments you had taken for granted. They would never come again. The mornings when you’d made pancakes, his hands brushing over your waist as he tried to help, the soft touch of his lips against the back of your neck as you laughed over something stupid.

And Luna. The thought of her growing up without you there, without you watching her change and develop into the amazing person she was meant to be. You wouldn’t be there for those milestones. You wouldn’t be there for her, and deep down, you knew she would forget you. She was not even four years old.

Maybe one day, as a teenager, she would find an old drawing made when she was just a child and wonder who that weird shape that looked like a woman next to her dad was.

That thought, that painful truth, made your chest tighten and tears well up in your eyes.

Maybe one day she would come to the café with her friends after a day spent shopping and wonder why that place seemed so familiar, why those cookies she had ordered tasted like home.

You didn't want to leave them. They were everything to you.

What hurt the most was knowing how much Noah had feared this. He had always been terrified of losing you, terrified of being replaced. You’d seen it in his eyes more times than you cared to count—the constant worry that one day, you’d leave him for someone else.

And now, here you were, standing at the precipice of exactly what he had feared. What he thought had happened between you and Jason had only confirmed his worst nightmare. And it was your fault. You had done this to him. It wasn’t what you’d wanted, but the damage was done.

And if you could go back to the night before, when Jason was on the doorstep, you wouldn't have hesitated to slam the door in his face, telling him that if this was all part of his stupid plan to get you back and ruin your life with Noah , he could go fuck himself.

You never, ever wanted to hurt him. If you could have taken back every single mistake, every moment where you had caused him pain, you would have in an instant.

Noah was really one of the best people you had ever known in your entire life. From the very first moment you had met him, you had felt something shift within you, something that you couldn’t fully understand at the time.

He had changed you, and not just in the way that love changes people. He made you see yourself in a new light, a better light. You had learned what it meant to truly be loved—without conditions, without hesitation, without fear. Every moment with him had been a treasure, a memory etched into your heart that you would carry with you forever.

But now, you were left with nothing but the crushing reality that you had shattered the one person who had given you everything. You loved him more than anything else in this world, more than life itself, but now you had to leave, if that's what he wanted. And you had no one to blame but yourself.

"Noah."

"Please." His voice cracked, his brown eyes were glassy. "Leave."

Your vision blurred, and tears started to spill relentlessly down your cheeks.

With one last glance around the room—at the life you had built with him, the house was starting to feel like home to you too—you stepped back.

"I'm so sorry for the pain I've caused you. You didn't deserve any of it."

You opened the door, knowing that this was the last time. The weight of your heart in your chest was unbearable, but there was nothing left to do but walk away.

You turned away, your heart breaking with every step. You walked out the door, knowing that something inside you had broken too.

Noah stood motionless in the center of the living room, the door closing behind you with a finality that rang in his ears like an executioner's bell. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

His body felt frozen, every muscle locked in place as if he was trapped in the aftermath of some devastating dream. His mind buzzed with the cruel reality of what had just happened —of how he had stood there, helpless, watching you walk out of his life.

After all, that was what he asked you to do. He was the one who told you to leave. Or maybe it was his broken heart speaking for him, either way the words had come out of his mouth. And you were gone now.

His chest was tight, every breath a struggle, as if the air itself had become too thick for him to inhale. The ache in his heart wasn’t just an emotion; it was a physical weight that crushed him from the inside out. His head was spinning.

The tears came slowly at first, like a whisper of pain that barely registered, but then they built, a flood that couldn’t be held back any longer. His chest shuddered with the sobs that ripped through him, his face contorting with the weight of his emotions.

He could feel the heat of the tears as they streamed down his face, but he didn’t bother wiping them away. He didn’t care anymore. Every part of him was unraveling, every thought tearing him apart.

He thought of you—God, how he thought of you. The way you had been his light, his strength, the one person who made him feel whole again after Hannah had left him. He had never expected to love again, to trust someone like this, but you had proven him wrong. You had made him believe in something real. And now… now you were gone.

How the fuck was he supposed to explain this to Luna?

Her innocent eyes, the way she trusted him you trusted you. He couldn’t imagine telling her that the person she’d grown so attached to, was never coming back. What would he say? That it was because of something he couldn’t control? That he had been too blind to see what was right in front of him? How could he explain this heartbreak to a little girl who just wanted to see her world stay the same? How could he tell her that the woman who had made pancakes with her, who had hugged her and told her bedstime stories, was just gone?

At the thought of Luna growing up without you—his heart shattered. You two were his family.

Noah sank down to the couch, his hands gripping the fabric, as if holding onto something solid would stop the shaking. His breathing was uneven, ragged, as the tears continued to spill from his eyes. He buried his face in his hands, pressing his palms against his eyes, wishing he could block out the reality that had crashed down on him.

He could still feel the sting of your absence, as if the very air was different without you in it. His chest was raw, empty, and he could barely catch his breath as the sobs wracked his body.

He had loved you so much. Too much. And now he was alone.

The door to the living room creaked open, but Noah didn’t hear it at first. His mind was consumed with the pain of your departure, with the image of you walking away, your back turned to him, leaving him in the ruins of what they had built together. He didn’t even register Luna’s small form standing in the doorway until she spoke.

"Daddy?" Her voice was soft, unsure, but it cut through him like a knife.

Fuck.

Noah froze, and for a moment, time stood still. His heart clenched at the sound of her voice—his little girl, standing there, her tiny face full of concern. She was holding Mr.Flop in a hand and she was wearing her favorite pink pijamas. She looked at him with wide eyes, confused by the sight of her dad crying in front of her for the first time.

He quickly wiped his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, trying to clear the evidence of his tears, trying to appear strong, but it was no use. She had already seen him, her big brown eyes noticing everything, even when he tried to hide it.

Luna took a tentative step forward, then another, her soft footsteps barely making a sound on the hardwood floor. She came closer and then, in the purest, most innocent way, her little voice broke the silence.

"Are you sad, daddy?"

It was the way she said it—so sweet, so trusting—that made his heart break even more. His arms opened instinctively as she reached him, her small body pressing against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Yeah. Dad's a bit sad right now. It will pass." He sobbed.

Noah held her tightly, burying his face in her hair, unable to stop the flood of tears. He couldn’t stop the sobs that shook his body, couldn’t stop the grief that felt as if it would swallow him whole. His fingers gently stroked her back as he tried to steady his breath, trying to reassure her, even though he couldn’t reassure himself.

“I love you, my Lu,” he whispered through his tears. “I love you so much.”

Her small hand patted his back, as if she understood, as if her little heart could feel his pain.

“I love you too, daddy." she murmured, her voice small.

Noah closed his eyes tightly, letting her words wash over him. The pain of losing you was still there, raw and crushing, but in this moment, holding her, he found a sliver of strength. For Luna. For her, he had to keep going, even when everything else felt unbearable.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, more to himself than to her. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

You slid into the driver's seat of your car, the cool leather pressing against your skin as you closed the door with a soft click. The morning light filtered through the windshield, casting a soft glow over the interior, but it felt distant, too bright, too unforgiving.

The silence was suffocating as you took a deep breath. Your hands gripped the steering wheel, fingers tightening around it, trying to steady yourself. After what seemed like hours, the tears had slowed, but the ache in your chest remained, a constant, gnawing weight.

You sat there for a moment, letting the stillness surround you, as if the car could somehow protect you from the world outside. The quiet felt almost unbearable, pressing in from all sides.

The city outside, still waking up, seemed so far away, as if you were in a different universe entirely. Your body trembled, the quiet grief of what had just happened settling deeper with each passing second.

And then, without warning, the flood of frustration and pain burst free.

A scream tore through you, raw and guttural, a release of everything you had been holding back. It was a sound of pure anguish, as if your very soul was crying out. Your voice cracked, your throat burned, but you couldn't stop. You screamed until it felt like the very air around you was vibrating with the force of it.

When it finally stopped, there was only silence again. But it was different this time—empty, hollow, and exhausting. Your breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, and you slumped forward, your head resting against the steering wheel as you tried to catch your breath.

That afternoon, the dim lighting of the bar flickered slightly above them, casting elongated shadows across the cracked wood of the table. Jason sat back in his chair, a smug grin curling up on his lips, the scent of cheap beer and stale cigarette smoke hanging heavy in the air. Across from him, Rick twirled the straw in his drink absently, his spiky black hair glistening under the dim bar lights.

Jason leaned forward, eyes glinting with a mixture of pride and mischief. “You know, man,” he said, his voice low and almost conspiratorial, “I told you this would work. I was right. Noah and her, they're done. I'm aure they're done. Thank you for leaving in the middle of the road, I guess.”

Rick looked up from his drink, his brow furrowing, the slightest flicker of concern in his eyes. “Wait. What do you mean? You actually think it worked?”

Jason smirked, clearly satisfied with himself. “You heard me. I'm sure they broke up. Just like I said.”

Rick blinked, processing for a moment, his fingers nervously tapping against the edge of his glass. The memories of the past—of all the stupid things they had done together—flickered behind his eyes. He remembered the convenience store incident, the stolen bottles of Jack Daniels, and how everything had spiraled from there. He’d followed Jason then, blindly, and here he was again, stuck in the same orbit.

He remembered the graffiti on private properties, the cops outside his house for disturbing the neighborhood with music in the middle of the night, the arrest for getting into a fight during a band's show in the city center, the time he bought a gun from a complete stranger, when he had lost a bet and had walked naked for thirty minutes through the streets of the town.

But this time, for the first time, Rick felt bad about it.

He cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. “So... you think she’s gonna come back to you now?”

Jason shrugged, tapping his fingers on the table, his blue eyes distant as he considered Rick’s question. “Honestly, I don’t know anymore. But who cares at this point? At least she’s not with Noah anymore.”

Rick shifted in his seat, discomfort gnawing at him. His mind was racing, piecing together the past and present. Jason was always like this—getting what he wanted, no matter who he had to hurt to get it. But this? This felt different. He could feel it in his gut, a quiet voice telling him this wasn’t right.

“And if she doesn’t come back to you?” Rick asked carefully, his tone almost guarded. “What then?”

Jason’s eyes hardened, the smirk turning into something colder. “If I can’t have her, neither can Noah.” He took a long sip of his beer. "And honestly, that's all that matters now."

Rick was starting to realize that that was wrong, but he stayed silent, unwilling to question Jason just yet. He had always been loyal, too loyal for his own good. He’d followed Jason into trouble before, and this felt like just another step down a familiar path. But the pit in his stomach kept growing, gnawing at him.

Jason’s eyes gleamed, satisfied with himself, as if he had already won.

Rick took a deep breath, trying to swallow the rising discomfort. He remembered when they were just a little more than kids, how Jason had always been the one with the plans, with the schemes. And Rick had always followed, too trusting, too eager to please. But this? This was different.

“You don’t think...” Rick started. “You don’t think you’re being a little... I don’t know... messed up? I mean, she’s not some... prize, Jason.”

Jason’s eyes flashed, a brief moment of anger flickering beneath the surface. “Don’t tell me what she is, Rick. You don’t get it. She doesn’t belong with him. She belongs with me or no one else.”

Rick couldn’t argue with that. He had seen the way Jason always believed he was entitled to everything he wanted, and in his mind, this was no different. But there was a nagging doubt inside him, something that was slowly starting to unravel the threads of loyalty he had to Jason.

“You really think you can just take her from Noah like that?” Rick asked quietly, his voice filled with uncertainty.

Jason didn’t hesitate. “Why not? If I can’t have her, I’m damn sure not letting Noah keep her.”

Rick met Jason’s eyes, searching for some trace of the friend he had once known, the one who had stood by him, who had shared his ridiculous ideas and reckless plans. But this time he wasn't sure he agreed with his ideas.

Jason leaned forward again, his voice lowering. “I won, okay? I fucking won, dude. Thank you for your help."

Rick said nothing. He simply took another sip of his drink, the cold liquid feeling like it couldn’t even touch the knot of guilt building in his chest. Part of him still wanted to believe Jason, wanted to go along with it. But another part of him was starting to wake up—to realize how much damage Jason was willing to cause just to get what he wanted.

And Rick wasn’t sure he could be a part of that anymore.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

TBAF Tags: @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @clickmedead @missduffsblog @whenyouwannafindlove @chey-h @kenjipepsi1

[calsvoid]

ten (sorta) thoughts on squid game season 2 (SPOILERS):

1. holy fuck this season was so beautiful and the creative genius behind it was so wonderful

2. the rock paper scissors minus one scene has got to be the most intense game scene out of every single one (not game, but game SCENE, as in watching these two friends who i didn’t even care about half a second before be forced to bet their lives against each other only for one of them to be placed with a guaranteed win and not take it was probably the craziest thing to ever happen and fuck having that be the first episode truly through me for a spin)

3. speaking of, the guy that lived (who is known as guy with the wife because me and my brother kept saying that he has a wife as a reason why we want him to live) is one of my favs for no reason, i hope he gets out alright DONT YOU DARE DO ANYTHING TO HIM CAP’N I TRUSTED YOU

4. i knew as soon as they started having two girls bond i was done for and i spent every moment of theirs begging for both of them to live because i think i’ve seen this film before and i didn’t like the ending

5. soooooo many characters and character dynamics were just absolute chef’s kiss and it helps so much with that buildup of hope and tension; last season obviously had some wonderful people and relationships (i’m still not and never will be over the marble game) but something about this new cast was just absolutely wonderful. there were almost no characters i didn’t like or wasn’t invested in, and i am very excited to see how they turn out next season. hyun-ju’s group, gi-hun’s group, hell even thanos’s group i enjoyed all of them. min-su’s betrayal fucked me up so bad though and him failing to save her and having to see her die FUCK. also young-mi’s death was so painful, especially since she was the first main group member death. the mom and son were hilarious im going to fight god if they don’t end up together in either life or death

6. all about women’s rights and women’s wrongs this season, number 11 i love you and i hope you find your child i will kill your almost rapists for you. i don’t care that i hate the military hyun-ju is hot with a gun and she can fuck me with one of she wants. i pray for that fetus please let them get out alive. the mom was fantastic and such a nostalgic character, very accurate portrayal of an auntie and i love her for that. shaman queen is batshit crazy and good for her

7. the set design yall fucking BEAUTIFUL. i can’t describe it, but it just adds so much to that deceitful hope with all the rainbows and clean lines. and also the use of the stairs during the gun fights, ugh so amazing what a great way to repurpose that set

8. ALSO THE ADDED KNOWLEDGE OF THE SOLDIERS SIDE, god i love the extra lore behind their recruitment, their system, all that. loved the twist and as i’ve said i love number 11 shes my queen

9. god seong gi-hun had me ROOTING for him. his sheer determination was felt by me too and i really hoped that he would finally get to get justice, that finale just hurt all that much more

10. i wanted so badly for inho to end up having a semi-redemption arc even though it was unlikely, i unfortunately fell for his manipulation and wanted to believe in him god it hurt watching him use the sounds of someone else’s death to trick gi-hun

[guilty-pleasures21]

The last of the real ones

No context, no explanations. Just words and emotions spilling onto my keyboard. Listen to the songs for the full experience.

An only child of the universe

The waves

Wet concrete pt II

This whole damn city

Does your therapist know?

Too good to be true

The only one

Warnings: eventual descriptions of grief and sex.

----------------------------------------------------------

"I was just an only child of the universe ... and then I found you."

     “So what’s the deal with this Bruce Wayne guy?” X asked him, hopping from crunchy leaf to crunchy leaf as Jason kicked a pebble on the ground beside her. He shrugged, still unsure what to make of the situation. 

     “I dunno,” he replied honestly. “He’s kind of weird. But he seems nice!”

     He turned to face her, his green eyes wide with excitement as he thought about the man who’d formally adopted him and taken him in. “He has this huge house with all these books and he lets me read any of them! Oh! And he also has this guy, Alfred, who’ll cook me anything I want! It’s pretty great.” 

     He nodded knowingly, as if he’d suddenly become decades wiser than his mere eight years of age. X paused to consider his words, trying to imagine an enormous house with an endless room filled to the ceiling with books. She’d been left at the orphanage when she’d been too young to remember and would sneak away on occasion to roam the streets, begging for spare change with her wide, almond eyes and her helpless little pout. She always managed to draw the attention of passers-by with her cute and innocent demeanour and Jason had taken advantage of the distraction she provided to pick the pockets of some of the people who’d stop by to help her. She’d caught him immediately after the first time, racing after him and grabbing the back of his shirt before he could run away from her. She’d demanded that he split some of his earnings with her - since she’d technically contributed to his success - and ever since then, they’d been inseparable. 

     “Wow,” she finally replied, her voice soft with awe. “Even chicken?” 

     “The good kind,” Jason agreed, causing X’s jaw to drop even further. He snickered at the stunned expression on her face and reached for her hand, easily slipping his fingers between hers. “You should come over! Alfred’s going to be making a roast tonight!” 

     “Like the kind those rich people always have on TV?” X asked, swinging their hands together. Jason nodded vigorously and the two of them began making their way back to his new house.

“You are the sun and I am just the planets, spinning around you.” 

     The two of them sat next to each other in the batcave, puzzling over X's new vigilante name. Jason had convinced Bruce to adopt his best friend a while back and the both of them had quickly begun their training to become the next protectors of Gotham. 

     “What about ‘Batgirl'?” Jason suggested, keeping in line with Bruce's chosen theme. X twisted her lips in disagreement. 

     “I want a bird name,” she argued, turning to Jason with wide eyes. “Like you! Then we can match!”

     Jason shook his head as a smile tugged on his lips, but he shuffled a little close to her anyway. “Hmm … What about ‘Dove’? They're small and cute! Just like you!”

     X's frown deepened. “But I don't want to be small and cute! I want to be scary! People will be scared of you because they already know Dick!” 

     Bruce's other adopted son always took good care of them when he came over from Bludhaven. He wasn't as bossy or serious as Bruce and he could do so many cool gymnastics tricks! Jason and X had quickly decided that they liked him and were always following him around in awe whenever he dropped by Bruce's place to visit. 

     “And it's too short, too!” X continued, rocking back and forth as she mentally listed all the problems with the name. “People probably won't even hear it the first time. ‘Look out, it's Dove!’ ‘Love?’ ‘No! Dove!’ Who's going to be scared of that?” 

     She turned to Jason in question and he had to agree that she made a good point. They sat in silence for a moment longer,the both of them thinking. Then finally, X spoke up. “What about ‘Nightingale’?”  

     It had been a year ago, when X was still living in the orphanage, that Jason had been abandoned at home alone by his mother again. The two of them had been playing outside when the sky had begun to darken, signalling an incoming storm. X had gone home with Jason, whose house had been just nearby, but when they'd gotten back, they'd found it devoid of any adults. The two children had huddled quietly under a thin blanket, trying to block out the raging fury of the storm outside. But it had banged on Jason's windows so viciously that their little hearts had pounded with the fear that it would burst through the already fragile panes of glass. Finally, X had broken the tension with a melodious tune, her voice so soft at first that the thunder had easily overpowered it.

     ‘I can't sleep tonight, wide awake and so confused.’ Jason had curled his arms even tighter around her as she sang, burying his face in the crook of her neck, and X had raised her voice in response. ‘Can you be my nightingale? Sing to me, I know you're there. You could be my sanity, bring me peace, sing me to sleep. Say you'll be my nightingale …’

     Finally, the storm had slowed, as if soothed by X's reassuring words, and Jason, too, had relaxed his grip on her. 

     ‘Can you be my nightingale, X?’ he'd asked, his words muffled by where his mouth remained pressed against the side of her neck. 

    ‘Of course, Jay Jay,’ X had promised him, patting his back reassuringly. ‘I'll always protect you when the storm comes.’

     Jason took her hands in his, his little face set into a serious expression. “I like it.”

[ofdarknesseyes]

The laugh escapes him before he can even stop himself. No, Megumi was nothing like him, that was for sure. Or so he hopes. That was the last thing he wanted for Megumi to turn out a piece of shit like him. From what he’s seen so far though, he knows that is not the case. Megumi was better than him, far better than he’ll ever be. The thought makes him oddly proud as if he had any right to feel proud. All the good qualities that turned out in Megumi were definitely no thanks to him.

Toji's gaze remains on Megumi, his own eyes seeming to react to the spark in Megumi’s own green eyes. Good, he liked seeing emotion in his son, better than numbness which is how he had coped with things when he was Megumi’s age. Slowly he sits up as Megumi continues to let it out.

“Yeah, yeah.”

He sighs but the kid wasn’t wrong. Toji almost ran away several times now. He still could and that’s what Megumi was probably expecting from him. Why would he expect anything else? Despite Toji’s words and staying with him one night, he had yet to prove himself. Maybe Megumi had caught on to his dad’s way, running away first before he was hurt. Damn it, maybe he is a little like him after all.

Megumi was someone who cared deeply about others he can see that now, plus he has people that care about him, friends, and classmates. So it was only natural for him to want to know what is going on out there after the shit show that happened and only natural for him to want to make sure everyone he cared about was alright as well as let them know that he was alright. Toji doesn’t react to the explosions.

“It’s not your fault. None of what happened out there was your fault.”

Some of it might have been his fault. If Toji hadn’t attacked Megumi the first time, if he hadn’t brutally beaten him the second time, well maybe Megumi would be out there helping. However, something in his stomach twists at the thought. Fuck that, he didn’t want Megumi anywhere near those curse users and curses out there. As well as some stupid sorcerers that would only end up getting him hurt or worse.

When the second explosion is heard, Toji grunts as he finally gets up from the bed and searches for a proper outfit. He slips on some dark jeans and a plain shirt, then a light jacket. Making sure not to forget that fancy credit card he found in Megumi’s pocket. They’ll need that for sure.

“Alright, what's your plan then kid? We agreed I’d come with you so that is what is going to happen now whether you like it or not.”

Yeah, there is no way he’s letting Megumi just run off on his own just yet. Maybe once he’s fully healed again if he really wants him gone, he’ll disappear for good again. Once this whole mess is cleared up they find a way to release Gojo from the seal. Or…

“You don’t have to fight though, you don’t owe the sorcerer society, shit. But if that is what you want to do.”

Toji shrugs. They could just go off on their own, and start fresh. Maybe Megumi could finally be a normal kid and just live a normal life. He feels fucking ridiculous for even allowing such thoughts into his head. As if he was capable of giving Megumi a normal life, he wasn’t capable back then so why the fuck would he be capable now? There was also no way that Megumi would want that. He can feel a headache coming on, fuck now he remembers being a dad well it is something alright. He just hopes they get to stop somewhere for breakfast on the way to wherever the fuck Megumi wanted to go.

Almost like a scene from a cartoon, Megumi nearly jumped out of his skin when his father's gruff, sleep-addled voice cut through the silence. The boy's cheeks reddened quickly with guilt -- except, there was NOTHING to be a shamed about. He whirled around to face his father except only dark silhouettes were in his vision. The red on his cheeks transformed from guilt into anger as he marched towards the closest window and whipped the thick curtain aside. He needed to see his father clearly for this and needed his father to see him clearly. The sky wasn't even bathed in oranges and pinks; it was blue and bright. He narrowed his eyes when his vision was assaulted by the light but he adjusted quickly.

“ I'm not like YOU! ”

Megumi paused to calm himself down but his cheeks were still flushed red and there were sparks in his green eyes.

“ I don't leave people behind. I don't have my phone and I... just wanted to -- I don't know. Step outside to think, to see if Sukuna Ryoumen didn't decimate Japan while I was sleeping. ”

There was more than a hint of guilt there. It WAS guilt which had caused Megumi to leave his father's side though momentary -- and momentary he had intended it to be. In the case Megumi died fighting Sukuna, he wouldn't leave his father abandoned in some hotel like his father had done to him in a similar fashion. Megumi exhaled loudly; the anger dripping away from his heart and expression. He slowly walked over and sat on the very edge of the bed, now not looking at his father.

“ Even if I was missing an arm, I would still fight. I don't have a choice. I need to talk---. ”

The distant sound of an explosion cut him off. It was far away, just far to hear it without it being downright alarming. It was followed by another sound of exploding and crashing. The Culling Games had begun without Megumi knowing. The boy jumped out of the bed to look out the window and the there was black smoke billowing in the air.