#he hates men even though he is a man but it doesn't count when he does it

[bobosbillionsknives]

He's kinda feminine rage vibes

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steve was lying on the floor of Robin's room, his back against the wall as he let Robin paint his toenails while he flipped through one of her magazines. The radio played softly in the background.

"I am totally new to having a girlfriend, and by girlfriend, I mean platonic girlfriend," Robin said.

"Well, that's one thing we got in common, I don't think I've ever had a girl who's just a friend," Steve said.

"What about Perkins?" Robin asked.

"She doesn't count, I hated her. She's the reason Tommy became such an asshole," Steve said.

"Hm, yeah," Robin said and paused. "So, how close were you and Tommy?"

"Well, we were friends since we were eight. We pretty much bonded over the fact that we both had assholes for fathers. We shared everything and told each other everything. He told me about his first crush, and I told him about my first crush. We practiced kissing, practiced having sex, and when I got first kiss, I told him immediately," Steve said.

"Woah, woah, woah! Back it up!" Robin exclaimed, and she closed the nail polish. "What the fuck do you mean you practiced kissing and having sex with Tommy Hagan?"

"Exactly what it means," Steve said, rolling his eyes. "We hadn't gotten girlfriends yet, and we wanted to get good before we did. It doesn't mean anything. We like women, so it didn't count."

"It still counts!" Robin shrieked. "Did you or did you not put your lips on Tommy's?"

"Yeah, and I also let Tommy put his dick in my ass. I was basically his pillow," Steve said as he continued to casually flip through the magazine. "It doesn't count if you're not gay, Robin."

"It doesn't work like that! Steve Harrington, the first time you had sex was with Tommy Hagan!" Robin exclaimed.

"It was not!" Steve exclaimed, throwing down the magazine.

"Was too!" She yelled.

"Was not!" Steve yelled.

"Okay! So, let's say if I kissed you right now. . .," Robin said.

"Wouldn't count as your first kiss, you're a lesbian and I'm straight," Steve said.

Robin grinned, a manic look in her eye. She pulled her hand back and slapped Steve across the face. He screamed.

"Didn't count! I'm a lesbian and you're straight!" Robin yelled.

"Okay, okay, I see your point. Jesus, did you have to hit me so hard?" Steve asked, rubbing his red cheek.

"Yeah, dingus, I did," Robin said.

"Okay, so my first kiss was with Tommy, and I lost my virginity. We're not gay, though," Steve said.

"No, just desperate and very horny teenagers, apparently," Robin rolled her eyes. "I can't believe you had gay sex before me, and you're not even gay. I bet you pictured some blond with big boobies."

"Well, no, actually," Steve shrugged.

"Hm, what do you mean?" Robin asked.

"I didn't have to picture a woman. I liked it," Steve shrugged.

"You liked it?!" Robin asked.

"Well, I am a man, Robin," Steve said.

"Uh, except not every man likes it when another man rams it up his asshole," Robin said. "Okay, I kind of wish I had been more delicate about this, but I didn't know this was you being in denial kind of situation."

"I'm straight, Robin, I like women," Steve said.

"Yeah, and did you know that you can like men and women?" Robin asked.

"What?" Steve asked.

Robin smiled and got up to pull out a box from underneath her bed. She pulled out a magazine and tossed it at Steve.

"Read it, study it, learn from it," Robin said.

Steve looked at it quizzically for a moment before opening it. He stared at it for the longest time before finally closing it.

"I am an idiot," Steve said.

"No, you're not. You just didn't know," she said softly.

"Bisexual," Steve whispered, and then he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh my god, this whole time, I thought I lost my virginity to Chrissy Cunningham."

"Chrissy Cunningham?" Robin asked.

"Uh, we used to hang out all the time before she started dating Jason Carver," Steve said. "Our parents ran in the same circles."

"Well, you know, I guess you could say you lost your guy virginity to Tommy Hagan and your girl virginity to Chrissy Cunningham," Robin said.

"Yeah, that's true," Steve grinned. "Thanks, Robin, and especially thank you for giving me that slap. I definitely needed it."

"Anytime that you want me to hit you, I'm your woman," Robin replied.

They moved towards Robin's window sill and sat on it, opening a window to get some fresh air.

"You know this means that I'm not straight," Steve said.

"Something else we have in common," she said.

"You ever wonder how many out there who are like me and who just don't know?" he asked as he looked up at the moon. "Here in Hawkins, I mean."

"Probably a lot more than we think," Robin said. "And they're out there, sitting in their closets wondering if they're ever going escape themselves or be rescued."

"Isn't crazy how we found ourselves?" Steve said.

"Maybe queer people just end up finding each other," Robin said.

"Well, maybe they'll find their way out themselves," Steve said and then he looked her, hazel eyes twinkling in the moonlight. "Seriously, Robin, thank you."

"You did that yourself, you know, you just needed a nudge. I mean, you could have told me to go fuck myself and continued to live in denial," Robin said. "You're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for."

Steve smiled bashfully and glanced back at the moon. He looked at her, with tears in his eyes.

"Is it possible to be platonically in love with someone?" he asked.

"I think anything is possible," she said. "I think it's a definite because I know that I'm absolutely, platonically in love with you."

They dangled their feet out the window and leaned against each other, Steve resting his head on top of Robin's.

"I wish I'd known you sooner," he whispered.

"I wish I'd known you sooner, too," she whispered back.

They were here now, though, and absolutely nothing could get in between them.

Part Two

[nastybuckybarnes]

Sleepless Nights

Pairing: Ghost X Reader

Summary: Ghost helps his Mouse find a way to sleep throughout the night.

Warnings: Minor angst, language, fluff

Word Count: 1.5K

A/n: Short piece but we still love it. This is for @oh-my-damn

~*~

Simon Riley is a light sleeper.

Hell, all of Task Force 141 is. Most military men are. They need to be, trained to be.

It's only amplified now that he has you by his side. His senses are heightened and he's on more than red alert, ready for the first sign of danger.

He doesn't care if he has to fight an intruder in his balaclava and boxers. He'd do it in a heartbeat for you if it means you get to sleep peacefully. That you're safe.

His sweet little mouse gets to curl herself up in his bed, surrounded by his scent, safe in his arms.

Except she doesn't sleep.

The first night you spent in his room, you didn't sleep. And not because he didn't give you reason to.

Oh, certainly not. Forever a man of his word, he made sure to wear you out thoroughly, until your head was devoid of thoughts and your eyes were glazed over and dreamy.

Yet, even after, you didn't sleep.

Sure, you curled up against him, head snug on his chest - which caught him a little off guard, but he'll never tell you that. But you didn't sleep.

He chalked it up to nerves. It was your first night on base with him, after all, you were probably a little on edge. A little afraid.

Little mouse like you, he can't blame you.

Nor can he blame you the second night.

The third night is a little iffy.

The fourth night, however, he starts to get a little concerned.

Instead of resting your head on his chest the way you do after fucking, you have your back facing him as you trace patterns on the wall silently, watching your fingers in the darkness of the room.

He's behind you but not touching you, sandwiching you safely between his strong body and the firm wall, head propped up on his elbow as he watches you.

He says nothing.

Nor does he say anything the fifth night, though that's when he really starts to worry.

He can feel you fidgeting, hear you sighing... can practically feel you counting down the minutes until his alarm goes off.

Finally, after almost a week of you not sleeping when you're in bed with him, he decides to confront you about it.

You sit on the floor in his quarters sketching absentmindedly in the early hours of the morning while he cleans one of his guns at his desk.

It's a slow morning. Nothing urgent calling him away from you.

You're silent, basking in the comfort you feel in his presence, but you can feel his eyes boring into your forehead.

"Why don't you sleep at night?" He finally asks.

You don't lift your gaze, watching as the pencil dances across the paper, mapping out a familiar scene, a familiar room.

"What?"

He doesn't say anything. He knows you heard and understood the question. He's not going to repeat it.

Finally, you lift your head and meet his gaze for only a moment.

"I don't need sleep at night."

"Bullshit."

You huff, turning around only for him to get up and spin you right back around as if you weigh nothing.

"I do sleep," you protest weakly.

He scoffs, "you must think I'm a right moron if m'gonna believe that. I can feel you up all night, fidgeting, sighing, not sleeping." His voice gets softer and he cups your cheek gently, bare skin warm against your own.

"You need sleep, Mouse. It's been days."

You hate the worry in his eyes.

"I sleep when Ghost is gone," you confess after some time, shrugging as if it's no big deal.

It is a big deal, though. He can see it in your eyes, in the tightness of your shoulders, the way you scratch at the palm of your hand and pick at your fingers.

"Why?" He asks quietly, his gaze dropping for a moment as he tries to figure out the most logical reason. Finally, he lands on the only one he can think of.

"Do you not trust me?"

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't offended, but when you snap your gaze to his and shake your head violently, he feels a little reassured.

"I do!" You exclaim quickly, grabbing his hands tightly and looking up at him with desperate eyes.

"With my life, I trust. I just..." You huff out another sigh and shake your head, embarrassed at what you're about to confess.

"I have... bad dreams. Very bad, they stop my sleep. I... don't want to stop your sleep. So I sleep when you are gone," you whisper.

You feel so small and vulnerable confessing this to him, and you can't stand the way that he just looks at you without speaking for so long.

You pull your hands from his and grab your sketchbook, showing it to him after a moment, hoping the pictures will explain better than your words.

He flips through the pages silently, and it all makes more sense.

There are drawings of small cages, of an angry man's face, of a soft woman and a delicate necklace.

Your home.

"Sometimes dreams... not so bad. But sometimes..." you shiver at the thought of it.

More than once have you woken up in a cold sweat, confused and disoriented and waiting for your father to come back and punish you.

But he never does.

Simon's gaze lingers on the drawing of your mother.

He can see the resemblance. The soft tiredness in her eyes that you seem to be wearing more often than not, the worried line between her brows, the soft curve of her lips.

His eyes slowly pull to yours, softer than they were before.

"You don't need to worry about that with me, little one. I want you to feel safe, even when you're sleeping. And if you wake me up, good. I'd rather that than have you deal with your nightmares alone."

Your lip wobbles and you look away, unsure how to feel, what to say.

But with Simon, you don't need to speak. He seems to understand you better than you can understand yourself.

His arms wrap around you tightly and you sigh, snuggling against him.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't tired.

Yes, you sleep during the day when he's gone, but that's only about 3-4 hours uninterrupted. It's been... too long since you've gotten enough sleep.

But he's going to change that tonight.

You go about your day as usual, sharing breakfast in his office, sketching your thoughts away while he does... whatever it is he does during the day, stopping only when he interrupts you to bring you to have lunch with him and his team.

And then it's more drawing and a warm shower, and then he's bringing you dinner.

As he showers after dinner, you wonder if this new schedule is going to be permanent. If this is what your life is going to be from now on.

All things considered, it's not too bad.

You don't notice him get out of the shower, far too deep in thought.

Oh how drastically your life has changed, and in such a short period of time, too.

"Wha're you thinkin' about over there?" Ghost asks, balaclava covering the top portion of his face.

You bring your eyes up to his, curling your knees up to your chest on the bed and smiling shyly at him.

"Nothing."

He hums, flicking off the light and lying down in bed beside you.

"Doesn't seem like 'nothin'."

He wraps an arm around your waist and wrestles you onto your back, his heart filling with warmth when you giggle wildly.

"Tell me what's on your mind," he whispers, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

You curl up against him, smoothing your hands over his bare chest.

Usually he wears a shirt to bed. A tight one, but a shirt no less. This is a real treat.

You'll never get enough of the feeling of his skin against yours.

Your fingers dance over scars, old wounds and permanent reminders of the life he lives. The life that brought him to you.

"You."

"Oh yeah? What about me?"

You nudge your nose under his jaw, pressing it to his neck and taking deep breaths of his scent.

"I am happy. Because of you," you murmur against his skin, pressing a kiss to the scar just below his collarbone.

He feels light and fluffy inside, like a cloud is forming in his abdomen.

He's tempted to go to medical just to make sure he's okay.

Instead, he squeezes you closer to his body and closes his eyes.

"I'm glad, little one. You make me happy."

You sigh happily against his neck, your lids growing heavier the longer you stay curled against him.

It doesn't take long for you to fall asleep, and Simon feels pride blossom in his chest.

Not only do you fall asleep in his arms, but you also stay asleep. For the entire night.

He's not sure if it's the skin-to-skin contact or the way he's cradling you to his chest like you're his lifeline, but whatever it is, he plans on doing it every night from now until forever.

He lets his own lids fall closed, and then he's slowly falling into a light sleep with you in his arms.

And it's the best sleep he's had in years.

[wandanatw0rld]

+18 | men & minor denied

beefy!natasha romanoff x pillowprincess!female reader x college!au

warnings: girlxgirl; Natasha being a boxer; rough sex; anal sex; strap on use (r receving); a little bit of praise; fingersucking; brief mention of war; Alexei & Bucky being two assholes; not propfread

b: Natasha's father comes to visit her, but their meeting doesn't go very well, and (un)fortunately for you, you have to pay for her frustration.

I think that's it, have fun ;D

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay, I love you too, Mom. Bye" You're sitting on Natasha's bed, notepads and books on every surface, you stop writing and look at the redhair.

"Is everything okay, Nat?" She looks at you, her jaw is clenched, her poor phone pressed against her strong hands, she sits on the edge.

"My dad's coming to visit, he wants to take a tour of Steve's gym," you crawl next to her, taking her hands off her thighs and replacing them with you.

"Is that so bad?" You hold her face, green eyes with a hint of desperation.

"Let's say my dad wanted me to be a doctor and not a boxer," Natasha didn't like to talk about her parents, especially her dad.

Her parents are both from Russia, late Soviet Union, and came to America after the war destroyed their home, the United States seemed to be a place to have a new life with more hopes. Natasha was young and didn't remember much about it, but she remembered the bombs, a whole reason why she hated New Year's Eve.

"Do you want me to be with you?" Natasha seems to consider for a few seconds.

"Are you ready to meet Alexei Romanoff?" She asks you sweetly. "One of the founders of this masterpiece?" Natasha pointed at herself in a very silly way.

"Actually, I am. But let's stop talking about your dad and talk about how much I need you to kiss me".

"I agreed," she says, standing up, you laughing as she holds you, her lips pressed to yours.

...

You were nervous to meet Natasha's father, lost count of the number of times you looked in the mirror, even though the redhead said you looked gorgeous as always. At first, Alexei Romanoff seems really scary with his bear, but he's really an idiot like his daughter. He told jokes, shared stories about Natasha wanting to be a superhero, you kissed her red cheek when the old man made fun of her blue hair.

Now the three of you are in Steve's gym, which he closed just so Natasha could show the place to her dad. But the more you listen to them, the more you're worried about Natasha's well-being.

"You're getting too big, sweetheart. And those tattoos, your mom will lose her mind if she sees you," the redhead breathes out, her patience coming to an end.

"I like my tattoos" You watch them very quietly, the way Natasha squeezes your hand and clenches her jaw makes you worry about her dad. "Dad, please. Look at the size of your belly."

"Your mom likes it".

"I bet she does". Alexei doesn't think it's funny, and you only realize that when he say it to her:

"When are you going to get a real job?" His tone is throaty, sharp as a knife, the same tone Natasha uses when she's stressed.

"This is a real job, Dad. I like working here" Her eyes glow with challenge, one more word and she'll explode.

"Yelena is doing great with me, she's really going to run the business one day".

"Yelena was always looking for your approval." You'd never met Yelena before, but Natasha always talked about the blonde with love and affection.

"Someone has to have it" The silence is heavy, you want to say something, but Natasha could kill her father with her eyes.

"Well, my class is in ten minutes, so... Let me walk you to the exit," Alexei seemed shaken, but he turned to you.

"It was really nice to meet you. When Natasha told me how beautiful you were, I didn't think it would be so much". Natasha doesn't look at either of you.

"Thank you, Mr. Romanoff".

"Please, call me Alexei. You make me feel old".

"You are old." The look in his eyes frightened you.

...

Natasha is taking you home, the fact that she hasn't said a word is worrying.

"See you tomorrow?" You ask and give her a peck on her cheek

"I don't know. I'm busy tomorrow" But she doesn't look at you.

You know what bothers her. Natasha wants her father's approval, all she ever wanted was to make him proud and not being able to do that is killing her. You don't see her the next morning or the day after, so you ask Clint if he knows anything while you both go shopping for baby stuff.

"I don't know, to be honest, she doesn't talk to me" He's looking at the dipers section in the drugstore, you've been helping him for forty minutes now, one of the professors has canceled the class. "I was going to ask her out for a drink, but she didn't answer her phone"

"I'm going to visit her at the gym today after class," you smile sweet at him. "Clint, these are adult dipers".

"God, I'm a terrible dad".

"Don't put too much pressure on yourself, Clint. These are things you can catch up over time.

"Thank you!" You gave his shoulder a good, enthusiastic squeeze.

"I gotta go. I gotta help Wanda with Billy and Tommy."

"Who are they?"

"Her clownfish, but I think one of them is female".

...

The hours seemed to pass so slowly that you didn't notice anything. You left your things in your dorm and hurried to Natasha's work. You entered, the place is quiet, there are a few people working out on headphones. You approach the reception, Bucky, another employee looks at you. You don't like him, the way he provokes Natasha and worse, his jokes towards you, they aren't funny, but it definitely amuses him.

"Hi Bucky, is Natasha here?"

"She asked Steve for a day off, she's at the arena" You turn to leave, but he calls you. "Can I ask you something?"

"Bring it on".

"Why are you with her?" See, not funny. "I mean, I know she's hot and rich, but-."

"I don't think that's any of your business, Bucky."

They march into the arena, loud rock music, The Marvels really hate somebody. Natasha hits the bag with precision, she growls with every punch, it is fucking hot. She doesn't realize you're there until you turn off the music.

"What the fuck!" You wave to her, she takes off her gloves and grabs a bottle of water.

"Hi to you too" You reache her. "I miss you"

"Me too" Her response is somewhat mechanical.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She drinks the water.

"Not really". Getting close to her, analyzing every single detail in her, sweat running down her chest, on her strong arms, the veins on her forearm drive you crazy.

"You're avoiding me, was it something I did?" Natasha keeps not looking at you and starts to get on your nerves.

"Everything's fine" She doesn't add a nickname, which means she's really mad.

There are a few details people need to pay attention to with Natasha Romanoff and you mastered them quite well.

When she's angry, she gets quiet, refuses to look at or talk to anyone, plus she listens to rock music really loud, just like it happened. When she is jealous, especially of Bucky and his aproaches towards you, her voice gets husky and scary, hands on your waist, pulling you close, and when takes you home, she makes sure of making you hers, every inch of your skin belong to her.

She was angry. In this case, angrier than she had ever been.

"Fight with me" Natasha seemed confused.

"I'm not going to fight with you" You take a few steps closer.

"Why not?" You ask, her woody perfume smells so good. "Are you afraid I'll hurt you?" You know you have no chance in a fight, you're smaller than her, in everything. Natasha Romanoff could destroy you with one blow. "Okay then. Bye, Natasha."

"Wait" She holds your wrist, her breathing at a normal pace, she looks at you. Natasha was so angry that she didn't notice that you were wearing her favorite outfit. "I'm sorry about that. Is just... Never mind, I'm fine".

"You're not fine, Nat. Something is bothering you, you can tell me," but she just avoids looking into your eyes. "Is it your dad?" The grip in your wrist had tightened.

"I don't want to talk about him" Natasha looks at your body, you're dressed only for her amusement and it's a waste not to take advantage. "Wait here," she opens the door to the arena.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"Steve will be using the arena today. I'll open it for him." After that, Natasha grabs her backpack and drags you to Steve's office, then locks you both in.

"Nat-" She presses her mouth against yours, it's rough, your legs go weak. On your tiptoes you grab her face, her lips a little salty, hands on your waist, nails scratching deep into it. You push her onto the table, paper clips, documents, everything goes down. "You have to use me, okay?"

"What?"

"About your dad." Her jaw clenches again. "You can bite me, I don't know, just do whatever you want." With worshipful eyes, Natasha turns your bodies over and places you on the table, your legs wrapped around her waist. "I am all yours".

"You are, detka." Finally, the nickname hits between your thighs. "First I'm going to eat you up and then fuck that pretty pussy of yours," you moan, grabbing her hands and putting them over your mouth, sucking her thumb. "You're so beautiful," she touches your lower lip with her wet thumb.

"Nat..." You move your hips into hers.

"No, Malyshka. You have to stay still." Natasha kissed you as she took off your underwear, lifting your skirt just a little, her fingers dipping into your wetness. "This soaked already?" your nails dipped into her neck "And I'm just getting started" You raised your arms to take off the t-shirt, the fact that you were without a bra pleases her, but then she remembered the asshole at the reception. "I wonder if Bucky knows you're not wearing a bra today.

"No, he didn't look at me today." You know that's a lie. Bucky always looks at you, especially today, he definitely noticed the lack of underwear. You bite your lip, her fingers teasing through your folds.

"I think it's just the opposite, Malyshka," she states, her tone assertive. "When he looks at you, he wants you all for himself." Natasha's lips find a place in your neck, a finger dipping gently into your pussy as her teeth in your shoulder. "He wants to fuck you, but he forgets that I'm the only one who can fuck you."

"Nat, please." Natasha firmly squeezes your neck.

"I'm going to remind him, remind everyone. I am worthy of everything, even you" Her fingers slide over your breasts. "Every inch of you is mine, Detka. Your face, your body, this fucking pretty cunt of yours. I can wait until you come in my mouth." Her teeth clamp down on your right nipple, and she sucks hard. You drop your head back, fingers scratching her neck. It hurts, but you're both enjoying it. Natasha spreads your legs wide, her thumb teasing your clit.

"Nat, easy- oh fuck" She buried her fingers deep into your pussy with no mercy.

"You want me to use you, Malyshka. I will. I'll use every hole in you".

"Mm... So good." Natasha's tongue burns your nipples as she adds a third finger.

"Can it fit one more, Malyshka?" You nod, grabbing her fist that adds the fourth one. "So hungry"

"Nat, take off your... "Mmm... please" The redhead is all smiles now, her pretty girl is so needy. Her thumb throbbs in your clit, and you're desperate. Your breasts are sensetive, but Natasha doesn't seem to be tired of them. She'll never be tired of them. "Fuck!" You pull her close with one of your legs, toes clenching inside your shoes. "Don't stop. Please don't" Natasha releases your breast with a lustful pop, her hand bumping for the last time at your soft spot, and then you melt away at her fingers. "Nat..." You hide your face on her neck.

"Thank you, Malyshka." She kisses your cheek. "I'm sorry for avoiding you these days. I've been overthinking about my dad, but I'm handling it."

"Forget about him. For now, I'm going to come into your mouth" You lick her lips slowly.

"God, you're perfect." She kisses you, hungry, her lips pressed on yours, hands on your breasts. You moan on her mouth, they're so painful. Pushing her, you take off her shirt, throwing it with your clothes. Her breasts are perfect, all sweaty, her tattoos glowing. Your hand lands on her ass, squeezing.

She gets on her knees and puts one of your legs on her shoulder. She can't get enough of your cunt.

"Nat, just fuck me" You demand, she dives into your pussy, and begins to grind her tongue on your clit. "Fuck!" You grab her hair and yank, pulling her closer. You try to close your legs, but she holds them open, her fingers digging into your inner thighs. "God... Shit" she plunges a finger into your cunt. "Mm... Don't" You're trembling, so grab her free hand and put it in your mouth. She's watching everything with adoration, loving the sensations that she causes in you. You're mumbling nonsense, sucking her thumb, and pinching your nipples. "I'm going... Don't stop, Nat. Please, don't... I'm almost" You bite your lips, hands on her head now, her red hair tangled in your fingers, holding her mouth firmly on your pussy, she rasps her teeth in your bud, that's enough to make you come, hard, body shaking, legs like jelly. "You're amazing at this"

"I'm not to blame for your choice in men" You smile, bringing her close to your mouth, tasting you on her. "But I have a surprise for you" You watch her put down the cotton shirt, your mouth getting wet. Nothing compares to the wetness between your legs. Natasha is wearing a pink strap, your favorite. "I was planning to come to your place to use as an apology for my behavior."

"I accept your apology after you fuck me hard"

"I will, Detka" she says, her voice low and seductive. She comes closer, her hands on your ribs, thumbs in both of your nipples. "I'll fuck you so hard that you'll not even walk away from here" She pinches your nipples, her eyes locked on yours. "You want that?" You nod, your lips curling into a slow, sensual smile. "You want that everyone see your trembling walk, especially Bucky."

"Yeah" you say, biting your fingertip.

"Let's arrange that for you" her husky voice commands, sending another wave of pleasure through your body. Natasha pushes her cock inside you, lying down on the desk in a mix of pain and lust, nails scratching her arms. She comes forward, hitting your soft spot, her lips seeking yours. "You're mine. I'm fucking worthy of you. Of anything. This job." She leans her forehead on yours, her growls making you moan loud. "He will see." She's not talking about Bucky. Her hands hold your waist, nails digging into your skin. You're too caught up in the pleasure to feel the pain or the blood from the slightly wound.

"Nat, too much." Her hips don't stop, it hurts, but you're too overwhelmed with lust to care. Then she stops, and you moan in tantrum. Natasha pulls out the strap, and you look at her, confused.

"Turn around".

"I don't-"

"You said I had to use you. I'm using you, Malyshka. Now turn around" You do as she says and turn around. "I've always wanted to know what it's like to fuck your tiny hole" She bends you over the desk, deep inside you regret saying she could use you, but now it doesn't matter. "Don't worry. I'll go real slow, Detka".

"Nat, I've never done this before," you said, holding her wrist and looking up.

"It's okay, we can stop if you don't feel comfortable. I'd never do anything to hurt you." The red hair planted a kiss on your bare shoulder, her hands gently caressing your waist.

"I don't want to stop, I just..." You look into her eyes and you have never trusted her as much as you do now. "I trust you.

"Thank you, Malyshka." You bring her close, kissing her lips, stroking the red hair behind her ears, you feel her positioning the strap on your entrance. You exhale into her mouth as she squeezes a tip, nails digging into her cheek. "Fuck!" She curses, it's fucking painful, no more than the pain you feel on your ass. "You're so fucking tight".

"Nat, I don't think I'm going to-" But then she pulls everything into you, and she starts moving, all you can think is why it's taking you so long to do it. "Fuck!" Your arm encircles her shoulder, she puts one of your legs on the table and spreads it. "Right there, Nat," you feel the plastic going in and out, her hands holding you still, it's fucking good, it burns, but you don't want to stop. "Don't stop, please. Don't stop."

"I'm not going to" And there's the rusky voice, Natasha leads her hand to your clit, touching it very slow, the base of the strap lightly on her clit, then rubbing real rough while she fucks your ass. "You're doing great, pretty girl".

"Mmm... Nat, fuck, please. Faster" Steve's table starts to slide on the floor, more things fall off it. "Almost" Her hips are much faster than you think is possible, you lose control of everything, you start mumbling nonsense again, you don't know what's happening, but you can definitely hear voices coming from the arena, you don't know any of these people, Natasha doesn't seem to care, she's not loud, but she's not quiet either.

"I'm almost there too, detka" You can feel her breasts on your back, her hands pulling your hair to make room for her mouth to find your neck and her teeth dip into it, fingers entering your cunt. You know it's not easy to do it, but Natasha made it seem easy. "Shh Malyska, people will start to hear you," you can't help but moan. You stuffed your mouth with your hand, the teeth go deep. She adds another finger, but then begins to lose frequency, you feel more and more close to the edge. "I'm coming, pretty girl" A few more thrusts and you almost pass out.

Breathes throughout the office, Natasha laid on your back, hands caressing your arms.

"Natasha, are you still there?" It's Bucky. "I didn't see your girlfriend leave. Is she there?"

"Yeah, we're cleaning, Steve asked me to and she's helping me, why?" You only realize what happened when you feel her cock digging into your cunt, a slow moan leaving your lips, it's too sensitive.

"Steve wants to know if you want to join in" Natasha begins to slowly push against your pussy, you want more, you need more, your hands searching for any support.

"Only when I finish cleaning" She kisses your neck, on the mark she made. "No way I'm leaving you for that." She whispers in your ear. Her hips are frenetic. "Can you get that box for me, Detka?" But you don't answer, you can't, it's too good. "You have to say something, Detka".

"T-that o-ne??" Natasha laughs in silence, her smile playful and cocky.

"Okay, I'll tell him." You don't know if Bucky believes that, but it's too good to pay attention.

"You liked that, huh?" She raises her torso, holding your waist, her movements bursting. "Don't try to deny it, Malyshka, I can't keep my cock inside you"

"I like it" She bites your sholders, her tongue burning your skin.

"Malyshka, you're so good to me" Her nails dig into your waist, her hips bump against your butt, the strap gliding smoothly over your wet cunt. "So beautiful accepting everything from me" You feel her front on your back, her teeth biting hard into the skin of your ribs.

Natasha's fingers rub your needy bud.

"Nat... I'm going to... Fuck!" You bite your hand, the small room insanely hot, the voices of people on the other side of the door adding another layer of lust.

"It's okay, pretty girl. You can cum on my cock," the walls are tightening around Natasha's cock, she's gripping your jaw very gently, very different from what her hips are doing, she kisses you. And then you feel the nod in your stomach to undo.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Your teeth mark your hands.

Her hips slowly stop, you feel her heartbeat on your back. She pulls her cock out.

"That was hot." She says, kissing your cheek.

"I don't know if I can walk".

"That's what you wanted," you look at her, almost offended. "I'm joking, Malyshka. We'll have to stay here for a while.

"As if I'm going to leave with all these people".

You watch as Natasha goes to her backpack, grabs a towel, and wraps the strap to clean it later. She picks up your clothes, you can't move, the orgasm has melted your legs.

"Let me help you, Malyshka," Natasha pushes one of your legs through the panties, then the other. "Okay. Do you need help with your shirt?" You nod, you don't need it, but you have a soft spot for her being so sweet and helpful. You raise your hands, she helps you, then she pulls up your skirt, your shoes. "Come here, let's get you somewhere more comfortable" You hold her like a koala while she leads you to a sofa. "I'm going to put my clothes on and then put everything back. You need to rest.

"I want to help you" You try to get up, but your legs are still wobbly.

"It's okay, I can do it myself." She strokes your hair behind your ears.

"Nat, I don't care what your dad thinks. I'm really proud of you and I'm happy to be your girlfriend" The way she smiles at you makes your heart warm and race.

"Thank you, Malyshka. I'm lucky to have you as my girlfriend," you kissed her, your hands pulling her closer, legs around her waist. "Detka, you have to let me go, otherwise we'll have to stay here forever.

"I'll stay." You wanted to tell her that you loved her, but you were too afraid of being rejected or of her not feeling the same, so you backed off, you didn't want to ruin this.

You just didn't know that the redhead felt the same way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 20 || The Night of Regrets

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, alcohol consumption, angst, smut, & fluff. (!!Brief drunk sex warning!!)

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——AND OH HOW YOU HATE being alone like this. Especially because it wasn't just a one-day thing.

No, instead, Choso distances himself from you.

It hurts like hell too. His messages get drier, and he has an excuse for every time you try to hang out with him, and your calls go unanswered.

What a sweet form of torture it is to have your crush give you the same treatment you give your blackmailer. At some point, you think you wallow yourself in a self-isolating pit of pity.

Shoko thinks she hears less from you more than ever, Gojo still receives the same treatment as always, Geto tries to comfort you every now and then but it's no use, and Choso continues to set boundaries for you and him.

It gets pretty rough for you mentally after that.

How are you supposed to deal with being stripped of the company of the one man who sought to bring you joy? There were some nights you cried about it and some nights you took out that stupid journal with that stupid list and scribbled out every name there-- only to rewrite it back afterward.

Reluctantly, you ended up telling Gojo that you managed to sleep with Choso, to which he was quick to send you money. Getting paid was nice and all but the money felt meaningless when you no longer had Choso by your side.

What's another six thousand dollars when the guy you like won't even read your texts anymore?

The panging you get in your chest every time you think about it all is dizzying. After all, no matter how you think about it, none of it is your fault.

Sure, you could've had your bedroom door closed that day Gojo walked in but... would such a small change have made any difference to your situation? The man could've still recorded you. Hell, knowing him, he probably would've.

You hate him so much.

You wish you knew how to express just how deep your hate for him goes but it's difficult to do so as he tries to make up for his wrongdoings.

Every notification from Gojo never fails to piss you off but it gets one hundred percent worse when you no longer have Choso around. Not being able to get with the man you like is obviously Gojo's fault so anything from that man reminds you of the situation and you get upset all over again.

This leads to one night full of mistakes, regrets, and... surprises.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

What started your unfortunate night was a final text from Choso that consisted of him explaining that it's hard to talk to you because of how he feels about you.

It was a long paragraph that explained how every time he talks to you, he wants to express his feelings more and more, which ultimately makes it difficult for him to communicate with you because it hurts to know that he's not yours and you're not his. Very explicitly, Choso basically says he doesn't want you to text him anymore.

He wasn't rude about it or anything; even making sure to carefully request such a thing in kind consideration of your feelings. Though, that didn't change how much it hurt.

Choso was your way out, your slim form of freedom. And yet, you lost it.

Where does this lead you? To a bar.

Was heading there the best decision in the world? Probably not. Did you care? Not one bit.

You needed something to relieve your stress, something to take this weight off your shoulders, even if only for one night. So there you sat, swallowing down drink after drink after drink in hopes of washing away all the pain you felt.

Does the sting of liquor down your throat and warmth over your body help you feel any better? For a moment, yes.

It was like all the voices in your head stopped screaming for just a second. No longer were you cursing yourself out for every mistake you've made leading up to now and no longer did you think of all the terrible things happening to you right now.

Instead, you felt just a slither of peace again. The sounds of laughter and soft clicks filled your ears as you calmed your brain, sinking into a tipsy state.

After swishing down your nth drink of the night, you found yourself feeling incredibly good. Almost too good, honestly. Not only was your body warm and your mind at ease but, there was this annoying pulse spurring in between your legs.

The only downfall of you drinking your sorrows away was that you happen to be one of the most unfortunate forms of drunk. Not any angry drunk, silly drunk, or sad drunk but, a horny one. And terribly at that.

The feeling is frustrating actually. It'd been a while since you last went out for a drink and you almost forgot how ridiculously horny you get after some time. The throbbing you feel is so very annoying, especially when all you can do is mentally replay events with Choso.

The man has actually made you squirt more than once. And every time it was because he was giving you head. You recall riding his face once, as per his begging request, and at this moment all you can remember was the way he looked at you and that damn tongue of his lapping at your cunt.

Just thinking about it again makes you dizzy, your stomach churning as you remember it all. His deep guttural groans and pretty whines still echo throughout your mind.

Then there's the way he fucked you-- the feeling of his cock hitting all the right places inside you, making you cry out his name for hours on end, and his praising words... it all haunts your mind.

Shit, now you're really horny. You wish you could call him. If he wasn't upset with you, you'd definitely call him right about now. You're so worked up that you could probably get off on just the sound of his voice right now.

A sigh leaves your lips as you realize you can't even call him. God, you miss him so much and it hasn't even been that long since the last time you saw him.

With a frown on your face, you move to rest your cheek against your knuckles, holding your head up with your hand.

"Y'know, the last thing I expected to find today was a wonderful piece of ass sitting at this bar with a frown on her face," A sudden voice to your left points out.

You physically revolt against the man's words to you. You don't even spare the male a glance in response to his comment, acting as though you didn't hear him.

A sudden god awfully strong collonge seeps into your nose, the smell clearly expensive but unpleasant nonetheless. Then, in your peripherals, you notice this male leaning toward you.

"Oi, I know you heard me." He pesters.

With a groan, you cut your eyes over to him, eyelids rising at the sight. Just your fucking luck, you managed to run into Naoya at the bar and he's absolutely disgusting. Well, at least every time he opens his mouth.

His face on the other hand makes up for it, to some extent. Your gaze is met with sharp brown irises from the male who just spoke.

Your upper lip twitches as you scrunch your face up at him, disgusted by his words to you. "I wasn't aware you were speaking to me." You hum plainly, glancing away from him.

He scoffs, "I cannot stand women who lie."

"That's wonderful but, I don't remember asking." You comment, your tone cold.

The arrogant man tuts, "And she's rude too? Hah, juuust my luck."

Slowly, you force yourself to turn your head to him, your gaze void of emotion. "If all you came over here to do is foolishly run your mouth, I suggest you fuck off because I'm not in the mood." You say to him.

The corner of his lips pulls into a smirk. Damn the way it resembles Toji most weirdly. "What are you in the mood for then, dollface?" Naoya questions.

Ugh, you cringe at his question. He's so very lucky that you have a list to complete because that's the only reason you're tolerating him right now.

"Truthfully? Mindless sex." You blurt out. It's very obvious that you're drunk by this point because the sober version of you would've never uttered such a thing, especially not to this asshole.

A haughty grin spreads across his visibly handsome features and dyed blonde hair with deep dark green roots sways whilst he tilts his head. "Well, then you're in luck. I happen to be an expert at that." Naoya tells you with a wink.

God, you hate everything about his personality already.

"Is that so?" You ask dryly.

"Yeah," He responds, clicking his tongue, "Maybe if you're good enough I'll show you."

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Instead, you slide out of the barstool you sat at and-- oh. He's taller than you expected him to be. Even so, you blink away the realization and simply sigh at his words.

"If I'm good enough? Please." You reply, "How about this, since I'm not in the mood to argue with you and make you feel small, I'll give you two options."

His brows push together, "Make me feel small? Excuse me-"

"You can either fuck me or fuck off." You interrupt coldly. Beneath your drunken state, you wish he'd fuck off and magically disappear from the list but unfortunately, that's not going to happen.

Naoya stammers for a moment in reaction to your straightforward words. After a second of collecting himself, he shrugs, "Well..." He chuckles, "How can I say no when you give yourself up to me so easily?"

Another sigh leaves you, "Right..." You say, finally allowing your eyes to roll before you grab a rough hold of his shirt and begin to drag him away from the bar.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The whole thing is a mess.

For your first time having drunk sex in the bathroom at a bar like the true whore you've unwillingly become, it wasn't completely terrible.

Naoya may have a disgustingly offputting way with words but, he's not that bad as fucking you against the wall. Your chest and face are pressed into the cold bathroom wall as the man sloppily rutted into you from behind.

This was most definitely your lowest moment yet. The sex was so... vanilla. Naoya lacked foreplay in every way possible that you're pretty sure he doesn't even know what it is. Half of your moans were fake because there were only a few times when you felt the tip of his cock kiss that sweet spot inside you.

His thrusts were too fast and not in a pleasurable way but in a way that made you want to scoff. Naoya was pale in comparison to the past men you've been with. The only thing saving him was the size of his dick and the fact that you were already horny.

If not for those two factors, this whole thing would've been terrible. He tried dirty talk but it all went through one ear and out the other due to how terrible it was. To make up for that, you can't deny the fact that his grunts and groans turned you on.

"Aagh, fuck." Naoya would groan, his voice near your ear and causing your cunt to flutter around him.

There wasn't much else that he did that fueled your arousal though. You were mainly getting off on the sounds of sex and the few times he thrust into you at the proper angle. That aside, to even come close to an orgasm, you had to imagine you were with someone else.

It's sad but, at least the man's name would be checked off the list after this.

A single orgasm was building up within you the very second you imagined it was Choso with you. You could practically hear the way he'd moan into your ear, begging you to cum around his cock and make a mess of him.

The thought alone made your eyes roll back and you were so close. Then, to the least of your expectations, Naoya selfishly pulled out of you, leaving you high and dry.

Your brows furrowed quickly as you panted against the wall. With a loud grunt that fills the bathroom, Naoya cums embarrassingly onto the floor. You have to bat your eyelashes as you gather what the hell this man just did.

Surely he's not done... right?

To your disappointment, he is. The sound of Naoya fixing himself with not even a word uttered to you can be heard, his hands working his member back into his pants before he moves to wash his hands.

You blink in slow motion, pushing yourself off the wall and standing on legs that are also trying to process what just happened. You'd just been denied an orgasm completely.

You scoff, "Is this a joke...?"

Naoya raises his brows, "Is what a joke? You've fulfilled your purpose, you can go now." He dismisses.

And that does it for you. Annoyed, you move to hike your underwear back up your legs and then tug your dress down into place, feeling absolutely disgusted with what just occurred.

"You..." Another scoff exits your mouth, "You asshole..."

The man chuckles at your claim before heading toward the bathroom door, "I've heard worse." He hums, winking at you, "And hey, for what it's worth, you have good pussy." He... compliments?

You send the man a dumbfounded look. Is he for real right now? Like, is he so fucking for real right now??

"You could probably make lots of money off it, honestly," Naoya comments one last time before opening the door and leaving.

Your skin is crawling with an overwhelming feeling of disgust. Never in your life have you felt so utterly used. This feeling is worse than what Gojo's put you through. You're ashamed you even let that dickhead of a man put his dick inside you.

You shudder at what you just did, a permanent scowl stuck to your face. This is worse than when you thought Choso left you. Hell, you'd prefer that a million times over what that misogynistic fuckface just said and did to you.

After gathering yourself and making sure you don't look like a complete mess, you are about to leave the bathroom when the nasty mess he left on the floor catches your eye. Even drunk, you didn't have it in you to leave such indecency on the floor.

So, you were quick to grab paper towels and clean it up, saving the janitor who'd later have to come in there from doing so.

After that, you toss the paper towel into the trash and stumble out of the bathroom. With everything you just experienced, another round of drinks is screaming your name. There's absolutely no way you're going to allow yourself to sober up after that.

So, you make your way back over to the bar and return to your previous activities, now feeling so unsatisfied and unhappy with everything.

Every drink you swallow down merely provides you with a temporary moment of satisfaction. The second you feel that the excessive drinking isn't working, you feel sad all over again, just like how you did when you first entered the bar.

You wanted to cry and scream at the same time. Your head was spinning and your vision began to blur a little, terrible feelings bubbling up inside you as your regret washed over you faster than the alcohol washed down your throat.

When your eyes grew teary, you were quick to scramble for your phone. If not anything else, the one thing you could use right now is either a good fuck that'd make you stop thinking or, someone who can give you genuine advice so that you don't feel so shitty anymore.

And who can provide either of those things for you? Well, none other than Geto Suguru himself.

Your thumb swiped through your recent calls, hazily spotting his contact and calling him. The phone rings for barely even a second, the call connecting as soon as you lift the device to your ear.

"Hello?" The man's voice rings through your ears, making you smile ever so slightly.

You swallow, "Hi Sugu..." Your words are so obviously slurred to anyone listening.

There's a second of silence before he responds, "Hey, you alright?"

"N-No..." You hum, "Can you uhm... C-Come pick me up?" You suddenly whisper drunkenly.

You hear a sigh then some shuffling, "Where are you?" He asks.

You giggle, "The bar."

There's another pause. Then, you hear him sigh again, "What bar, sweetheart?"

"I'll send you the uhm... the uh..." Your brain suddenly freezes as you search for your words.

He makes up for you, "Address...?"

"Yeah, yes. That." You say quickly.

A slight chuckle is heard over the phone, "Alright, send me the address, sweets. I'll be there soon."

"M'kayy," You hum as you move to send him the address.

You end up simply sending your location but you were too drunk to see the difference, not that it mattered. As the message is sent, an amused chuckle is heard over the phone.

You furrow your brows, bringing the cell back to your ear, "What's so funny?"

"What're you doin' all the way across town, love?" He asks in return, finding it humorous.

You pout, "I dunno, can't remember why I came all the way-," You burp slightly, "Out here."

You can't see it but the male shakes his head, "I see. Are you drunk?" He asks, tone concerned.

You smile, "Mayyybe."

"Maybe? Yes or no, sweetheart."

"Yeah, kinda." You sigh.

He hums and you can hear soft car noises in the background, "And I assume you're alone...?"

"Mhm."

"Why?"

"Didn't wanna bother Shoko with my..." You sigh heavily, "My problems."

"Did something happen?" The man questions, "Why would you go out drinking alone?"

"I dunno Sugu, I just need to drink away my problems, y'know?"

"You could've done that with..." He trails off for a second before finishing, "With me."

You yawn, "Yeah, I could've..." Your words come out lower and the man over the phone can tell you're growing drowsy.

"Are you fallin' asleep on me over there?" He asks, chuckling slightly but clearly nervously.

You move to lay your head down on the bar, just barely holding your hold up against your ear, "Mhm."

The sound of him sighing is heard, "Need you to stay awake for me, sweetheart."

"Sugu..." You mumble tiredly, "Why do you keep calling me that?"

There's a sudden silence over the phone.

A throb pains your head and you wince at the abrupt feeling. "S-Suguru?" You call out, your voice revealing your pained state.

"Y-Yeah?" He responds.

"You didn't answer my question..."

"I know." He states, "Are you okay over there? You sound hurt? What's wrong? Talk to me please." The male rambles, clearly panicked by the sound of your voice.

The most he knows is that you're at some bar alone and drunk so to hear you in pain has his heart worried in more ways than one.

You struggle to respond to him as you steadily slip from consciousness.

"Fuck, c'mon, don't fall asleep on me." He urges, his voice anxious.

"M-Mhm..." You mumble.

"Sweetheart, listen to the sound of my voice okay? I can't have you pass out before I get there."

You groan a little, "...Okay."

He smiles at your reply, "Keep yourself awake by talking to me, tell me about your day."

"M-My day?" You frown, "It was shitty..."

"S'that why you went out for a drink? You had a bad day?" The way his voice has gone all soft makes your heart throb for some reason.

Your eyes get teary all of a sudden, "Y-Yeah."

"Tell me what happened." He requests, "You can do that, right?"

"Uhuh..." You agree.

"Good girl," The male praises, his words giving you encouragement. "C'mon, tell me what happened."

"Well..." You steadily begin to explain the events of your day.

From how normal it was to how Choso's single text ruined your mood and then to the terrible sex you just had, you explain everything over the phone with a slur to your words every now and then. Your explanation comes out slowly since you're fighting sleep but you get through it.

"Then I..." You exhale softly, "Then I called you."

"I see." He hums, "Well, I'm right around the corner so keep your eyes open til' I get there."

"No promises." You say with a chuckle.

"Not funny, sweets. I need you awake." He replies sternly.

You groan, "Whyyy do you keep calling me thaaaat?" You whine.

Again, there's no response to your question.

"I'm gonna hang up on you, Suguru." The chances of you doing so are unlikely but you are seconds away from falling asleep.

"You better not." He says.

"Then tell me why..." Your voice fades out as your eyes shut comfortably. Mentally, you got your question out but realistically, your sentence trailed off.

Distorted sounds of your name being called are heard in your ear but second after second, the sounds fade away and blissful white noise engulfs you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Your sleeping frame is spotted by the man you called as soon as he enters the bar minutes later, his heart rate all over the place. Quick and long strides are made to approach your resting body and hands fly to your face, lifting your head from the cold and dirty bar to get a good look at you.

Even through your sleep, you're pretty sure you hear a familiar voice whisper to you, "What am I gonna do with you?"

Those same hands move from your face and to under your legs and behind your back. Your limp body is lifted from your seat bridal-style and your head relaxes against a lean chest.

The slap of brisk fresh air causes you to stir awake for only a moment. Your eyes flutter open and the smell of cologne is in your nose, the scent almost... nostalgic? It quickly makes you think of Gojo for some strange reason.

"Suguru?" You croak out.

The male holding you is quick to look down at you, his eyes filled with worry. "Sweetheart, you gave me quite a scare," He says softly, his voice making your brows furrow. "Are you okay?"

You groan and rub your temples, feeling the remnants of a pounding headache. "Not... really," You admit, your voice still slurred from the alcohol. "And why do you..."

You end up trailing off as you shift your gaze upwards to the face of the person holding you right now. The question gets stuck in your throat while you eye the man's face.

Soft blue eyes are peering lowly at your drunken expression, a firm pair of slender hands carrying you as if you weigh nothing, ruffled white hair bright enough to blind someone and a face that's all too angelic for the hate you hold for it.

After a gulp, you bat your eyelashes and squint, wondering if you're seeing things. "Gojo?" You whisper softly.

A beautifully broken smile is given to you along with the sound of a shaky yet relieved sigh, "Yeah?"

You pout, "Why are you here...?"

"Well, love," His voice is gentle, "When you call..." He leans just a little bit closer to you, "...I come running."

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎

NANAMI KENTO ☐

??? SUKUNA ☐

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[masonmontz]

hey hey hey, hope you like :) 

REMEMBER: english is not my first language

word count: 1k  jealous!mason (if you feel uncomfortable, it's not for you)

NICK JONAS - JEALOUS

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

Mason snorted when he saw another story on your Instagram having fun with your girls. It was already the fifth photo you posted and Mason thought you were posting a lot in just one night.

Not because he's jealous, of course not.

Except he is.

It's your friend Grace's bachelorette party, and she took all her friends to a club in Manchester. Mason almost died when he saw you leave the house with huge high heels, a shorter dress than usual and wonderful makeup. He really tried to convince you to change your clothes, but it was in vain.

You just gave him a kiss and left, leaving Mason crawling behind you. Mason was jealous and hated when you went out without him, just because he knows how much other guys try their luck with you. But he doesn't mind you going out with your friends, he just stays at home bored until you arrive.

But that night Rasmus invited some players to his house for a game night, so Mason agreed since you were out too. Mason had been there for a while, but the whole time he was checking his phone to see your new stories, or to check if you had responded to his messages. 

“What’s wrong Mason? You haven't stopped looking at your phone since you arrived.” Onana asked, as once again he saw Mason snort into his cell phone. 

“Nothing.” Mason sighed. “Y/N went out with her friends to a club.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” John asked. 

“Bro, he’s jealous.” Onana answered, laughing at Mason’s face. 

“I am, okay? There’s nothing wrong with being jealous of my girlfriend.” Mason snorted when he saw his friends laughing at him. “Her dress was too short.”

They laughed harder at Mason, but he wasn't finding it funny at all, not when he knew that several men had probably already tried to talk to you. But he didn't respond to them and picked up his cell phone again, looking for your friend's Instagram account to see if she had posted anything else, as you weren't responding to his messages.

Mason's heart stopped when he saw the video she posted, where you were dancing and there was a man behind, you weren't paying attention to him, but he didn't take his eyes off you and Mason got irritated.

Even though he knows you love him, Mason can't help the thoughts. Mason doesn't like the way he's looking at you. Is he crazy for being jealous of someone you aren't even paying attention to? 

Mason's face turns red, wanting more than anything to go up to you and kiss you, pushing away any man nearby. Perhaps he is a little obsessed with you. Mason also knows it's not your fault they hover, but if they looked at your finger, they'd see the ring. The same ring that was on Mason's finger.

The red and very short dress made you look amazing, Mason almost drooled when he saw you, but he remembered that that appearance wasn't for him. Mason just wanted to throw you on the bed and leave you there for hours while he did everything to you, just because you looked perfect.

“That's it, I'm going there.” Mason got up five minutes later when he saw another video and the same guy was talking to you. “Thanks Rasmus for the invite, but I'm going to get my girl.”

“You're so stupid, let her have fun Mason.” Bruno spoke, but Mason ignored him and took the car keys.

“I can’t, I’m sorry.” He responded and left.

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

The place was full of people and Mason almost regretted going there. Almost. 

It took him a few minutes to find you and he had to convince the security guard that he was just there to pick up his girlfriend. Maybe he offered a ticket to a Man U game and took the security guard's phone. That worked.

The music was loud and some people started to recognize Mason, but he tried to be nice by denying some photos. Mason hated not talking to anyone who got to him, but now he needed to get to you.

When Mason found you, you were laughing with Thalia, your friend, as you held a drink in your hands. The same guy from the videos was nearby and still staring at you, but he had two other friends with him and they seemed like wolves around you and your friends. Mason rolled his eyes. Not that he needed to tell anyone, but Mason puffed out his chest as he started walking towards you.

You saw him a few seconds later, so you didn't hear what Thalia was saying anymore. You raised your eyebrows when you saw Mason approaching with an angry look and a red face. Thalia saw him and left, walking towards the other girls.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, placing your hand on your waist and looking at him seriously. 

“I missed you, babe.” He smiled at you, then he held you and pulled you into a kiss, placing his hand possessively on your waist, you couldn’t even move.

“Mason, I’m being serious.” You said, slowly pushing him to face him. 

“I saw your Instagram and I didn't like that asshole back there keeping an eye on you.” Mason admitted with shame. “I needed to show him that you have one man and don't need another.”

“Yes, and you know I can say this myself.” You said it angrily, but you always liked it when Mason showed jealousy. “You shouldn't be here, it's a party for the girls.”

“So we need to get them out of here so I can leave too.” Mason looked back and stared at the three men, who even seemed a little shocked, probably recognizing Mason. He gave them a fake smile, then whispered in your ear, giving you goosebumps. “But I would like you to come with me, I want to take that dress off you.” 

“Don’t do that.” You almost moaned when Mason ran his hands down your bare back on purpose, and then squeezed your thigh in the middle of everyone. 

“It's my right to be hellish. You look so sexy and beautiful and every man here is looking at you, everyone wants a taste.” You placed your hands on his shoulders, closing your eyes as Mason kissed your cheek. “I still get jealous, even though I know you're just mine.”

“You are so possessive, Mason Mount.”

“I'm possessive and I'm not ashamed to admit it. You know I get excited when you get jealous too.”

Mason gave you a mischievous smile, so you smiled at him and looked back, seeing the man who had been trying to get to you the entire night had disappeared after Mason arrived. 

“Let’s go home. Only bought this dress so you could take it off”

[porcelana-r0ta]

JOYRIDE

Fandoms: Batman, Danny Phantom

Relationship: Dan Phantom/Jason Todd

Word Count: 3,823

Ao3 Link: Available only to registered users

Summary:

Dan doesn't want to join his Habitudes group for their dumb community service project, which is why he lets two idiot goons kidnap him off the streets. When said goons turn out to work for The Joker, Dan decides to do something about him, maniac to maniac.

Or: The Joker tries to live stream a ransom, but ends up live streaming his own execution.

xxXxx

When Dan Nightingale is grabbed off the streets of Gotham, he makes a half-hearted struggle, just so he can seem human. The kiddie hero business and the indiscriminate genocidal tendencies no longer call to him like they used to, and while he’s still an impatient person who is intolerant of disruptive bullshit, he needs a little excitement in his life. 

Plus, he wants an excuse to get out of his Habitudes community service project. His pretentious trust fund baby groupmates chose to volunteer at some fucking coffee shop instead of something normal, like a hospital or an animal shelter. (Dan didn’t even know a coffee shop was an option, but anything goes for wealthy elites who want to roleplay as an impoverished barista, apparently.) Well, Jay Peters wasn’t so bad, and he was just as irritated as Dan was about the others’ choice. Plus, the chill that settles into Dan’s unused lungs when the other student is around shows that he’s at least Death-touched like him, even if they’ve never acknowledged that to each other. 

So, yeah. He lets himself be kidnapped by two goons, even if he could easily break free and make their insides their outsides. It could be interesting! Enrichment in his pandimensional parole! Everyone’s got to have fun sometimes! It’s like a little joyride, as a treat! But he isn’t the one committing the crime! How quaint!

Dan is a very polite captive. He lets himself be pulled into a creeper van with minimal resistance. He lets the goons zip tie his hands. He lets them put a black bag over his head, even though it smells of weed. He doesn’t count the number of turns they take, nor does he try to talk them into letting him go. In fact, he doesn’t say anything. When they eventually park, he allows the men to pull him out of the creeper van and into some building—likely a warehouse, judging by the echo of their footsteps on the floor. And finally, he lets the goons cut off the zip ties around his wrists and then tie them to the metal arms of a chair. 

He’s a great captive. And he’s so going to be excused from that stupid Habitudes community service project!

He’s content to sit and wait. The Bats of Gotham City usually have a good response time for villain bullshit, and if they don’t, then it’s not like any Fear gas or sex pollen will affect him. Dan’s not really human anymore, even if he is capable of looking so. 

Dan does not have to wait long. The footsteps increase and then stop altogether, and then a cackle fills the air. “Camera man ready? Mics? Charges?” The voice is familiar, yet grating. Where has he heard it before? In his past future, maybe?

“Yes, sir,” comes the reply from several different people. 

A pleased cackle, “Then let’s get started!”

“We are live in three… two…” 

At the silent one, the cackle echoes through the room once again. “Hello, ladies and gentlemen of Gotham City and beyond! I’m your favorite Joker, LIVE! With one of your favorite Wayne children!” 

Dan, who has been relatively chill this whole time, tenses. The Joker. That’s why he recognizes that cackle and voice. He had killed the clown before in his original timeline. Ugh, clowns. He fucking hates clowns. Hates their stupid pale makeup and their stupid dumb wigs and their exaggerated eyes and he fucking hates how they make him feel like he’s not in control. 

And what was that about a Wayne? 

Dan doesn’t think killing someone like The Joker in his original timeline should be held against him. Honestly, the guy is a megalomaniacal terrorist who abuses the guise of mental illness to get away with crimes against humanity. Dan had at least owned up to his own sanity, and never tried to hide from the law or anything like that. He just kind of… killed the law. 

….ACAB? 

A hand suddenly grips at the bag on his head, grabbing hair with fabric. “That’s right, folks! Here’s Gotham’s beloved Dick Grayson!” The bag is yanked off his head, revealing Dan in all his scowling glory. And Dan is a lot of things, but an exact Dick Grayson copy he is not, so while the goons may have mistaken him as Grayson, The Joker does not. 

He pauses, studying Dan’s face. Dan raises a mocking eyebrow, then looks around the warehouse. 

It’s empty and dimly lit, but it’s not a problem for his superior vision. The metal walls are an ugly beige and the floor is a gray cement, its color only broken by mysterious brown stains, and now the discarded black bag. Dan is up against a wall, surrounded by filming equipment. The camera in question is just a fucking iPhone 12 attached to a ring light. There’s one goon behind the camera, moderating the live stream. There is another goon holding a boom mic above Dan and The Joker, and there are four others behind the camera. All of the goons who are not handling equipment are holding toy musket guns. It is probably safe to assume that there are similarly armed goons guarding the doors that Dan cannot see from his position tied to a chair. Likely two goons per exit. In a warehouse of this size, there have to be at least six more goons that Dan isn’t seeing. 

The Joker grits his teeth. “Who brought the Grayson kid here.” It’s not a question so much as it is a demand. 

“We did, boss,” two goons pipe up proudly from behind the camera. 

“Why don’t you two come up on camera so I can congratulate you for good work?” The Joker grins beseechingly. 

One of the two goons, the blond, shuffles nervously at this, whereas the other puffs out his chest. So only one has any brain cells. 

The prideful one grabs his comrade by the arm and drags him up to the camera with Dan and The Joker. They stand in front of Dan, blocking him from the camera’s view.

“I always reward good work, you see,” he says to his henchmen. “Now, you think this is good work?” 

“Yes, sir,” says Pride, while Blond frowns. 

“Take a good look at his face.” The villain gestures angrily to Dan’s unimpressed face. “What do you see?” 

“Dick Grayson, sir,” 

Blond shuffles, “He looks like he isn’t scared.” 

“No! Wrong! This isn’t Dick Grayson! This– This is some—” The Joker takes another glance at Dan, noting the black Gotham U hoodie that hides his muscles. “This is some fucking college twink!”

“Twink?” Dan mutters to himself, disgruntled. Sure, the hoodie is baggy and he’s seated instead of standing, but do those two things add up to him looking like a twink? 

The color has drained out of even Pride’s face at The Joker’s words. “Sir, please—”

But The Joker is already pulling out a comically large toy gun that probably has real bullets, and Dan sighs. It would probably be bad for his parole if he let a bunch of humans die in front of him. 

He phases out of the ropes binding him, safe from view with the two idiots in front of him. Then, he kicks The Joker down to the floor, sending the toy gun scattering across the cement floor of the warehouse. He stands and knocks Pride and Blond’s heads together, knocking them out as The Joker screeches with rage. 

The goons behind the camera aim their guns, but Dan is already moving behind the camera. He snags the guns out of their hands, snapping them in half with strength he doesn’t even have to think about. He moves so fast that at first they don’t even realize what’s happened. By the time they connect their missing firearms to the broken bits of metal on the floor, Dan has already clobbered them over the head, knocking them unconscious. 

He takes out the cameraman, too, and the goon holding the boom mic. Then, in mere seconds, he takes out all the goons at each exit, and he’s back at the filming station by the time The Joker has staggered to his feet. His original estimate had been off by two—there were eight other goons in total. 

Dan checks the iPhone—still live streaming. On TikTok, of all the goddamn apps. The comments are going wild on what’s going on: where’s the college student, how did he kick The Joker like that, do you guys think that those two goons have brain damage now, what was that metal scraping sound, where is The Joker? 

“Hey, brat!” snarls The Joker, clutching at his ribs. “That was not part of the script.”

Dan hates clowns, and he especially hates The Joker. Sure, Dan wiped out nearly all of humanity. Who doesn’t have a bad decade of villainous activity? But he did it quickly, and he didn’t do it under the guise of insanity. He owned up to it. And if Dan’s being honest, he’s… disgusted by it all now, even if it hurts himself to admit. 

If Dan isn’t human, then neither is The Joker. 

Still off camera, Dan moves so fast he basically teleports in front of The Joker. The other man stumbles back, but Dan reaches out and grabs him by the throat. He chokes and claws at Dan, but Dan isn’t human anymore, and so his nails catch on nothing but the cloth of his hoodie. He doesn’t even feel it.

He drags The Joker to the chair in front of the still live camera and shoves him into it. While he recovers from being choked, gasping and shuddering and so fucking human , Dan forces his hands behind him and uses the ropes he’d phased out of to tie The Joker up. When he ties the last knot, Dan stands tall, staring into the camera. 

“Hello, friends and family,” he greets the audience. He gives a small smile, and he makes sure that he is perfectly, utterly human with normal blue eyes and normal black hair and normal human skin. “As you can see, things have turned around for The Joker here. Now, I’m sure his original intent was to ransom out the Wayne kid, and it would be a shame to see that hard work and planning go to waste on a mistake, wouldn’t it? So why don’t we hold a… reverse ransom? Only, I don’t need funds. I’ll accept donations. My venmo is vladsucks03. My cashapp is dannight07.”

Dan’s smile grows into a wide grin. “Feel free to donate if you like. But even not a single person donates, The Joker dies today.” 

The Joker spits out a gasping laugh, “Ha! You think you can kill me? I gotta admit, that’s a good joke. But Batman—”

“Batman what?” Dan asks, stepping off camera to grab the black bag on the floor. He shoves it halfway into his pocket. He walks to The Joker’s toy gun, the only one he hadn’t broken, and he picks it up. 

“Batman is already on his way here,” The Joker says. “He always is by this point.”

“And Batman will save you?” Dan snorts. He moves to check the live stream, comments coming in so fast that the only reason he can read them is because he’s not human anymore. 

Is this for real

fuck yeah kill that guy

💥🔫🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

extremely common gotham uni W

im donating 50$ rn

Can we vote on how joker dies

Lol does he fr think that batman would help him

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Does anyone else find this incredibly attractive or is it just me 😳

guys my joker/batman fic update is gonna slap after this

Joker’s cooked

bro is about to have ao3 level donations

Hey what’s his cashapp again

Omg i think that guy is in my bio class

I’ll donate when hes acc dead

doin god's work 🥹👍

If bro doesnt do it he’s cooked

This guy is gonna have infinite rizz if he pulls this off

The Joker scoffs, “Of course he will. He’s done it before.”

Dan yanks his gaze from the comments to The Joker’s face, “What?”

The Joker nods his head up arrogantly. “Batsy can’t live without me. He saved me after fickle-ickle Nightwing killed me.” 

“Huh.” Dan blinks consideringly, switching his gaze back to the comments. They’re all freaking out about this new information. He steps back into the camera frame, pulling the hammer back on the toy gun. “Then I’ll just have to make sure it sticks.” 

He points the gun at The Joker’s face and fires. As expected, rainbow confetti is the only thing that flies out, dusting over The Joker in celebration of what is to come. 

The Joker laughs. 

“Cute,” says Dan. He walks around The Joker to stand behind him, directly in front of the camera. He removes the black bag from his pocket and puts it over The Joker’s face. 

He shoves the muzzle of the gun into the back of The Joker’s skull. Pulling back the hammer, he asks, “Any last words?” 

He pulls the trigger before The Joker can say anything. It’s funny. As expected, the second gunshot is a real bullet. The Joker’s head and body jerks forward. Blood splatters on Dan’s face, but it’s mostly on the floor and the unconscious Blond and Pride and on The Joker himself. 

For a moment, Dan can only stare. The Joker’s body is crumbled in on itself, held up only by the bindings on his arms to a chair nailed to the ground. 

He feels big. He feels good. 

He feels… dirty.

He clears his throat. He drops the gun. He lifts up the soaking black bag up just enough to check for a pulse. After thirty seconds of nothing, he says, “Well, that’s the end of The Joker.” 

He looks up, staring into the camera lens, and he chuckles. “I missed my community service project because of this bozo. You guys think my professor will accept this as community service?”

You guys think this will affect my ghost parole? he doesn’t ask. 

He bends down to check the pockets of Blond. He finds his phone and uses Blond’s thumbprint to bypass the password. His stomach curdles at the home screen—a picture of Blond and a little girl with his eyes and his nose. His eyes burn and he calls 911, trying not to blink.

“911 dispatch. What is your emergency?”

“Yeah, uh, I killed The Joker. But he kidnapped me first, so. Turnabout.” 

“You— sorry, you what?”

“I killed The Joker. He’s dead. I checked his pulse and everything.”

“O-oh.” The woman on dispatch sounds strangled. There are muffled sounds, frantic, that the receiver only barely picks up. Dan wonders what she’s doing, Asking for verification? Trying to triangulate his location? Celebrating the fucking good news? “Do you know where you are, sir?”

“Some warehouse, I guess. Probably at the docks. Do you want me to check?”

“No, sir, please stay where you are if there are no immediate threats.”

“Got it.” He clicks his tongue. 

“Can you tell me your name, sir? Are you injured somewhere?”

“I’m Dan. Uh, Dan Nightingale. I guess he thought I was the Grayson kid. Um. Dick Grayson, I mean. And no, I’m fine. His henchmen are injured and unconscious, though.” 

“Right. Okay. Hi, Dan. I’m Claire. First responders and patrol units are on their way to your location now.”

“Well, that’s good, I guess.” He almost wants to ask if she thinks that he’ll end up in Arkham for this, but he’s pretty sure that there’s no jury on Earth that would convict him. Well, maybe not. He did ask for donations for murdering The Joker, after all. That might put a damper on his defense. 

“Dan?” asks Claire. 

“Yeah?”

“Is– is he really dead?”

Dan looks at the body and kicks a limp leg, avoiding looking at the gory black bag. Nothing. “Yep. As a doornail.” And he knows death intimately. 

She breathes a shaky, staticky sigh into the receiver. “Thank you, Dan.”  

He blinks, “Can you get fired for saying that?”

She laughs, “Honey, everyone not on break right now is listening to this. My boss just broke a bottle of tequila out from his desk.” 

He barks out his own laugh. “Oh?”

“You’re about to be very popular, Dan.”

“Well, I—” 

And seventeen minutes late to the party, the windows at the top of the warehouse shatter open. In cascades of broken glass and grappling cables, the Bats drop down to the floor. 

“Away from the body,” commands Batman as soon as his feet hit the ground. His little birdies, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and the newest Robin fall in line with him. Robin makes quick work of rounding up the unconscious goons and binding them. 

Dan obligingly puts the hand that isn’t holding the phone up in the air, but before moving away from the camera’s view, he says, “Just a reminder guys, my venmo is vladsucks03 and my cashapp is dannight07. Please remember that I might need a lawyer soon.”

“Okay, funny guy,” Nightwing says, entering into frame and pulling Dan away by the shoulder while Red Robin shuts down the live stream.

“It was self-defense and defense of another. A whole population, if you will,” Dan says. 

Red Hood snickers, “Only crime here was the kidnapping.” 

“Dan, are you okay?”

“Bats are here, Claire,” Dan tells her. He watches Batman lift the black bag off The Joker’s face, revealing the viscera and gray matter beneath. He’s not smiling anymore. Dan hasn’t seen that kind of gore in years. He’s the cause of it once more and he doesn’t regret that. It feels invigorating. It feels devastating. “I guess I’ll hang up now. If The Joker is mysteriously alive after this, it’s because Batman couldn’t handle not being the hero.” 

“Dan—” He hangs up as Batman’s shoulders go minutely tense at his words. The man stands fully, turning his head slightly to narrow his cowled eyes at Dan. 

“Problem, sir?” 

“You killed The Joker.” 

“I saved myself and his two idiots.” He shrugs. 

“You had him restrained.” 

He rests an offended hand against his chest. “I was frightened that he would escape, sir, just as he escapes from the very place you put him every eight to ten months.” The Bat doesn’t want to be judge, jury, and executioner. Fine. Whatever, he gets it. Dan hadn’t wanted to be that, neither as hero nor villain. He’d wanted to save, he wanted to be saved, and then he wanted everyone to feel like he did. But he’s not so prideful now to know that he wouldn’t have stopped then, not unless someone handled the job permanently. 

The Joker needed permanence. 

The Bat can play fucking judge all he wants. But he’d be just as villainous if he tried enforcing his own moral code on other people.

“You asked for donations,” Red Robin says dryly. “You were basically putting a hit out on him.”

“My art in life textbook is $300. How much do you think a lawyer is going to cost?”

“Hn.” 

“Stop giving the man a hard time for doing a public service, Batman.” Red Hood shoulder checked Nightwing away and held out a gloved hand for Dan to shake. He takes the other’s hand and firmly shakes it. The contact, while not to skin, gives Dan goosebumps and chills his lungs. 

Jay?

“Let’s hope my Habitudes professor agrees with you.”

“She will. Everyone with three brain cells to rub together will.” The man cuts a glare at Batman. 

Dan didn't say what pronouns his professor uses. 

The rumble in Red Hood’s voice is enticing. He looks at the other man, really looks, and notices his broad shoulders, how tall he is (though Dan towers over him even  disguised as a human), and his muscled arms. Arms that Dan’s pretty sure are normally hidden beneath a Gotham U hoodie, just like his own. 

He smirks as sirens sound in the distance. “Let’s hope the cops agree with you.”

“They will,” Hood says. It sounds like a promise for something entirely different. 

“Gag me,” Red Robin mutters.

Robin says, “For once I agree with you.”

Without looking away from Dan, Red Hood flips the two off, and yeah, maybe redemption can be more promising than he initially thought. 

xxXxx

A week later, Dan finally goes back to his regular schedule. His ghost parole is intact—he’d even been thanked by some Gothamite ghosts, and Danny begrudgingly told him that there were ghosts who said they’d riot if Dan was given any punishment. As for the mortal side of things, Vlad Masters had graciously sent his team of attorneys to Dan’s aid. While Dan still hates him, he has no issue about using a free team of lawyers to defend him. He’s guaranteed to walk.

Jazz had called him. It made his core unsettled and stony. She wasn’t disappointed, and he doesn’t know how that makes him feel. He doesn’t regret it—The Joker would never change. But what does that say about him and his progress? 

Jazz in general makes him uneasy now. She used to be his big sister, and now she’s younger than him, and he tried to kill her, and— she’s different from his Jazz, is all. But if she’d always known like she said, then his Jazz did, too, right? Could she still be his Jazz, a Jazz who got to grow up? Still be his sister? It would be stupid to hope so, right?

He feels bitter.

She said she’s considering Gotham University as her college of choice as she nears high school graduation. Apparently, their psych department is amazing. 

So maybe hope isn’t so bad. 

Dan sits down at his 10:00 am Habitudes class. Everyone already in the room stares at him. Before they can offer any congrats or thanks or swarm him, Jay sits down next to him. 

Dan looks at Jay’s mostly black hair and his tuft of white at his front bangs. He’s wearing his usual Gotham U hoodie, a hoodie that likely hides muscled arms. A chill builds in his lungs like it did when speaking with Red Hood, like it has every other time he’s talked with Jay Peters. 

…Hm. A hoodie that definitely hides muscled arms. 

“Hey,” says Jay with a grin. “Crazy week, I hear?”

“You’re a Gothamite. I’m sure you’re aware of exactly how crazy it’s been.” 

“You should tell me about it sometime.”

“Sure. After class? We can grab an early lunch. Make it a date, maybe.”

Jay smiles, cute and small. His eyes flash green—a baby Death-touched soul, still can’t control his spooky abilities, how adorable—and he says, “That sounds perfect.”

[breadly-art]

I often see people saying that Miguel hates children. All I can say to such people is that their views are too shallow. And that's why they're wrong:

Let's think logically. Miguel, like the entire HQ, is sure that the violation of canon events will result in the destruction of the entire universe. He has reason to believe so - before his eyes, the whole world disappeared through his own fault. That's it, it's all gone. Of course, Miguel will be sure that it is not worth violating the canon. Moreover, he knows that the universes are connected, and if you lose too many of them, then the entire multiverse will collapse, this is logical. It's like a spider web - the more holes there are in it, the sooner it will break.

Miguel leads a squad that maintains the stability of the canon by dealing with anomalies. He must be sure that each of the spider-men will be reliable enough to prevent a violation of the canon event. He has no other option, he will not just forget about the minor mistakes of any spider-man from the HQ. Not because he's angry and strict, but because the safety of all universes depends on it, God damn it.

He's in charge for a reason. He knows what he is doing and why, he knows what a mistake will cost. "I don't always like what I have to do. But I know that I have to be the one to do it." He knows that the canon event often costs someone their life, he knows that some spider-man will feel bad about it, but are there any other options?... Yes, in the question "one person or the whole universe" he chooses the universe, but that doesn't make him an asshole. He's trying to save millions of lives in the only reliable way he knows how.

And now back to his "hatred of children." Miles. Yes, I can understand his desire to save his father, but it could destroy his universe. And yes, it is not a fact that it will be destroyed, but judging by what Miguel saw, the chance of the collapse of the universe is GREAT. And it's not just about Miles's universe, it's about all universes. A web with many holes breaks faster. If saving the universes costs Miles's father's life, if Miguel has to keep Miles at HQ by force to prevent him from making a mistake, he will do it. I don't think Miguel likes it. But he knows he has to be the one to do it.

Gwen. A lot of people didn't like the way he treated her, but listen - there were reasons for that. As I said, Miguel needs to be confident in every spider-Man at HQ, it's a matter of keeping the universes safe. And Gwen let Miles go, let go of someone whose actions could destroy everything. Miguel can't count on her the way he used to, not after she let Pavitr's canon break and didn't catch Miles. He sends her home not because he hate her, but because the HQ is not a place for those who think with their gut. Here you need to think with your head, only this can be 100% sure. You can't make mistakes. HQ must not allow the disruption of the canon. They must not allow the chance of death of millions of people. So Miguel wasn't mad at Gwen. He was disappointed in her - because she couldn't make a hard choice.

For the same reason, he doesn't take Peter B. on a mission. Peter didn't stop Miles when he had the chance, but unlike Gwen, he hasn't questioned Miguel's theory about the canons yet. Peter believes him, but is clearly not sure what to do next. That's why Miguel takes Jess and Ben with him, the ones he's 100% sure of.

Next... Gwen's father. No one, damn it, keeps their finger on the trigger when they don't really want to shoot. Do you think he wouldn't have shot his own daughter? Oh no, he would have done it. And Miguel understood that - that's why he intervened, even though he shouldn't have been there. After all, remember - a vulture could disrupt some kind of canon event. But which one? Facereveal Gwen in front of her father, perhaps? Nevertheless, Miguel intervened. After all, he knows what it's like to deal with an Irish father named George, who is ready to raise his hand against a child.

And then, even seeing Gwen's insecurity after everything that happened, he suggests that she "join the club", he knows what it's like to be all alone. And he clearly doesn't want that for Gwen.

Miguel is not a bad character. Not a villain. He doesn't hate children. He's just trying to protect the universes the best he can, and he's ready to be the one who has to make the hard choice. I don't think he likes it all. He keeps doing it because he doesn't know any other way. He tried to find it - and the more he tried, the more damage he did. He’s only on the “prevent other worlds from being disrupted” step of this process and he’s already way past worn out.

Look at it from this angle - if you had been working on a project for a very long time, which you had already failed once (and it was so terrible that you don't want to remember), which required all your time and effort, required you to lead people you didn't know very well, required you to constantly make choices, after which you would they always looked askance, and you yourself would feel extremely lousy, but which would clearly benefit many people... And then there was a high chance that another person would ruin everything for you, because he has another untested work plan. And this person is not listening to you, this person is not interested in your arguments, he is absolutely stubborn. Wouldn't you freak out about it? Wouldn't you be angry? Wouldn't you try to stop this person with all your might? This is not hatred of children. It's a damn fear.

[millervrse]

❝ BY THE COFFEE MACHINE ❞ javier peña x reader

summary: Javier Peña doesn’t like you. You’re too nice, too bubbly, and you get on his last nerve. He didn’t get how anybody in this line of work could be so goddamn cheery all the time. Though aside from your, in his eyes, forced and fake kindness, you had no bad features, and perhaps that, added to your beauty, is what ticked him off so much. Could he learn to like you the more time passes, or would you do this dance of hatred forever?

pairing: javier peña x afab!reader

warnings, notes: EVENTUAL 18+ smut, r! has a bit of an established backstory, a few uses of y/n but only when necessary, r! has a dog, references to narcos and thus real life people and occurrences (pablo escobar, the cartel, dea, etc), ENEMIES TO LOVERS but it’s one sided because javier hates r!, r! has an established personality, grumpy x sunshine, workplace setting, javier and r! are coworkers, use of cigarettes

word count: 2.6k+

LYN SPEAKING! so this is the first chapter of, again, a finished piece that was written nearly a year ago. you can read the prologue here! and again, this is all from javier’s pov, but i’m going to throw in some nsfw chapters using second person for the economy so, yeah! enjoy! lyn out!

DO YOU WANNA KNOW? @bishtrouille @axshadows @troubledsoul-black let me know if you’d like to be added!

“Coffee,” I said simply. Her smile softened a little, and she raised her eyebrows in confusion. “What?” she asks. ❝ YOU'RE BLOCKING THE COFFEE MACHINE ❞

CHAPTER 1: FIRST IMPRESSIONS

COLUMBIA, SEPTEMBER 1982

For once in our lives of chaos, the madness had died down, and there was no new news regarding the man who had been the focus of our missions for months now.

Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria: A drug dealer, and a major pain in my ass.

In the years that I’ve worked Escobar’s case, the man has put the DEA, and the whole of Columbia, for that matter, through hell and back. A war of drugs has been going on under our noses, and the man behind it is an evasive ghost.

We haven’t found him because he doesn't want to be found.

Days in the office have been passing by slowly. With no new leads, and little for us to do, we’re at a loss here. Can’t tell you how much time I’ve used clicking my pens or looking through the same case files over and over again, just to see if something appears that wasn’t there before.

It hasn’t happened yet.

For the third time that morning, I got up from my seat to get a cup of coffee, since having drained mine. Murphy’s eyes snapped to mine from where he sat across from me, and he raised an eyebrow.

Murphy was the guy I’d been working with on the drug cases for a few months, and we’ve come to be pretty friendly with each other during that time. Thus, his first words when he sees me get out of my seat.

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head at me. “You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack with all that damn caffeine,” he remarked, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair.

I shrugged, throwing away the paper coffee cup that I’d been drinking out of. “Murphy,” I scoffed, crossing my arms to mirror him. “If there’s a damn thing in this world that’s going to give me a heart attack, it’s going to be Escobar, not coffee.”

Murphy sighed in response. I could tell the guy was just as done with Escobar’s shit as me, even if he was better at not discussing it than me. He shrugged and rubbed his forehead before responding, “Yeah, fair enough. Drink away.”

I nodded at him, then made my way to the door.

As I made my third journey that day down to the coffee machine, I passed by the hallway where the ambassador’s office was. What was already a shitty day only worsened by the feeling I got in my gut only by looking at her door.

It was hard at the DEA, Murphy and I being the main people assigned to this case, the only two men in the world who knew as much about Escobar and his cartel as the man himself.

And regardless of that, what we knew was minimal.

While the ambassador wasn’t really our boss, just walking by her office was enough to remind me of the drug cases: And that we weren’t getting a damn thing out of them.

I shook off the feelings that crossed over me then and there, and just went on walking.

I was veering the corner to go to our break room, where the coffee machine was, when I heard and saw a view I surely hadn’t when I clocked in this morning.

“Where can I put my things?” a feminine voice rang out from down the hallway, the voice filled with a sort of cheer that wasn’t very common from those who worked here in the DEA building.

My eyes snapped to the speaker before my brain could even process it.

There was a woman at the very end of the hallway I was in, holding a brown box, presumably the “things” she had been referring to mere seconds ago. My eyebrows raised fairly quickly: I had never seen her in the office.

Because I’m sure I’d remember a face like that.

It was impossible to miss her. Her eyes seemed to mesmerize the man she was speaking to, because he was looking at her with an expression usually saved for old, married couples.

He wasn’t the only one.

I couldn’t take my damn eyes off of her: I was drawn to her appearance, and she wasn’t releasing her hold. There was a serious and assured, yet honeyed way about her. Her eyes and smile spoke volumes to what I assumed was a kind persona, but her attire, a white collared shirt, black slacks, belt, and tie, vouched for her professionalism.

It made me uneasy to get so much from her based on her appearance alone. So that was when I whirled on my heel, all but jogging back to where Murphy was.

I loped back to the room with a concerning pace, closing the door quickly behind me. Murphy’s head snapped up, and he looked at me with a concerned expression.

“Hey, hey, hey, Murphy,” I said in a hoarse voice, a little out of breath from getting here so quickly. I took a second to relax, then asked, “Who’s that girl?”

Murphy’s eyebrows raised up, and he looked at me like I’d just asked him to marry me. “What girl?” he asked as his face scrunched up in cluelessness.

I let out a huff and opened the door again to see where the woman had gone. Then, I came back in the room and waved to the window. “That girl there. All the way down the hallway,” I clarified.

Murphy got up and looked through the window that showed the hallway outside of it. His eyes landed on the woman’s, and a look of realization crossed over his face. “Oh. Oh, yeah. That’s the new girl. I think her name is Y/N,” said Murphy.

I looked at Murphy with a furrowed brow when he said that. “You knew?”

Murphy shrugged and nodded, walking back to his chair and sitting down. “I heard some folks whispering about her. She was pretty popular in her old job, I think, skilled in her field. That’s why everyone’s talking about her,” he shrugged, like the fact was common knowledge.

“And no one was gonna tell me?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Uh, no, I guess not. Why would it matter, anyways? She won’t be working with us that much,” he responded.

“She won’t? Why not?” I asked curiously. Why was she up here, then?

“No, she’ll be working with the coaches, training the dogs for drug sniffing. She’ll be around, but—” Murphy explained, but then he suddenly cut himself off. He cocked an eyebrow. “Wait a second, why does this even matter to you, Peña?”

That got me to shut up real quick.

For one of the first times in my life, I was at a loss for words. I licked my lips as I tried to pick my brains for a response that would make sense.

But my mind was abandoned, way too preoccupied to give him a reason. Sooner or later, I just shook my head, giving myself a way out of this conversation.

“It doesn’t,” I shrugged, walking over to my desk. I ruffled through the drawers for a second, before grabbing the final cigarette from the box that I always had with me.

I took a deep breath as I made a note to myself to get more, before saying, “I just wanna know who I’m working with.”

Murphy nodded, though he didn’t really look convinced.

But the good thing was, if there was one thing Murphy knew about me, it was to never push my words. He picked up the case file that he’d been working on when I walked in the room and simply mumbled, “Yeah, okay.”

I sighed in relief, glad that he had just dropped the issue; I seriously didn’t want to talk about this right then and there. Talk about a woman.

I left the room without so much as another word, perching the cigarette in my mouth before I had even made it out of it. I usually smoked in the office, not giving much of a shit to our boss’ wish for me not to. 

But today, I obliged, making my way down the lift to go outside.

When I walked through the lobby and through the doors to exit the building, I mulled over the morning that I’d just had. Escobar’s doings may not be in plain view now, but a new sense of chaos was clearly ready to take the podium.

I lit the cigarette as I leaned on a pillar in front of the building, rubbing my forehead as a migraine began to form there. I exhaled puffs of smoke from my nose and lips, praying that it’d ease all the tension in my figure.

Fuck, what was even going on with me? Who was this girl, and why the hell was one glance her way driving me crazy?

She was just a woman. That’s all she was. And I’ve had countless experiences with women, an art that I knew like the back of my hand. I knew my way around them, and I wasn’t looking to get wrapped up in one at any point, at any time.

I’d just have to pray that this wouldn’t cause any problems in the workplace for me.

I’d have to have hope, and a hell of a goddamn lot of it.

I was walking back up to the breakroom after I’d got back to the building half an hour later. After all, I hadn’t even gotten that cup of coffee I’d been craving before leaving to have a smoke.

But when I walked in the room, I didn’t envision the first person I’d see inside of it.

The new girl.

There she was in front of me again, the same vibe that had emitted from her earlier in my presence once more: Only, it was closer to me now. She was conversing with a male coworker of mine, and they seemed to be engaged in some happy go lucky discussion, because the woman was grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah, I figured, why not? My dog is my best friend, and I don’t want to leave her home all of the time while I’m working, you know?” she giggled as coffee poured from the coffee machine she was next to.

The man, whose name I didn’t even know, chuckled in response. “That’s crazy. So they just let you bring her, huh? And you’re gonna train her up with the other dogs?” the man asked her.

She nodded, flashing him a smile that seemed to glare off the walls. “Yeah! Pretty cool, isn’t it? I’m glad they let me. I wasn’t really sure they would,” the woman laughed, picking up her cup and taking a long sip out of it.

The man was about to answer, when his eyes finally met mine, acknowledging my presence for the first time since I’d walked in the damn room. This caused the woman to look at me too, only smiling at me.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure your dog will do well. Shepherds are pretty big, and the ones we already have do a good job,” he murmured, looking down at the ground. “Anyway, I should get back to work. You have yourself a good day, Y/N. And good luck.”

So that was her name. Guess Murphy didn’t lie.

“Peña,” he said with a professional nod and awkward smile. Then, he left the room.

When it was just her and I in there, we looked at each other for several long seconds. My eyes glazed over her, fully analyzing her appearance now that she was so much closer to me.

I furrowed my eyebrows. 

I don’t know what it was about this girl that was seriously getting to me.

She was just different. 

And I couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” she smiled widely at me, putting her coffee cup down to offer her hand to me before giving me her last name. “I’m new to the DEA, if you couldn’t tell. It’s my first day. What’s your name?” she asked.

Her kindly demeanor unsettled me, being both refreshing and alarming. Most of the men and women on this job worked with somber faces. No feelings, small talk, laughs or smiles. Just work, work, work. It was bizarre to see someone in the DEA building beaming, like we worked in some candy shop.

Didn’t she have any idea what this job encompassed?

“Coffee,” I said simply. Her smile softened a little, and she raised her eyebrows in confusion.

“What?” she asks.

“You're blocking the coffee machine,” I clarified for her. Sure enough, she looked to her side to see that I wasn’t lying about that. She murmured a quick, “Sorry,” then moved out of the way.

“Yeah,” I groaned in response. I grabbed one of the paper coffee cups near the machine, then got to fixing myself a cup.

To my surprise, she didn’t leave the room. She crossed her arms behind me, and I could see her looking over me out of the corner of my eye. I could tell she had the urge to speak, but didn’t know how to do so.

Black coffee poured from the maker when she finally opened her mouth. “I haven’t gotten your name yet,” she murmured.

I let out a sigh, wondering why she even needed to know it. “What does it matter?” I replied without a care in the world, looking for creamer in the drawers below the machine.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t, I suppose. I just want to know,” she answered. Then, she perked up, looking at me with a new sense of hope in her eyes. I craned my head towards her for only a second, just to see that same pearly white smile she’d been wearing across her face earlier. “Do you work on this floor, too?”

I closed the paper cup with a lid as she spoke, not even realizing that I’d forgotten to add creamer to it. “Name’s Peña. Javier Peña. And I don’t do small talk,” I replied composedly, turning my body to face her. Clearly, I had yet to get used to her appearance. I’m pretty sure my heart dropped down to my ass when I laid my eyes on her again.

However much I didn’t want to talk to her, there was a fact that remained true, regardless of how it was I was feeling.

She was fucking gorgeous.

Even with my semi rude remark, she smiled at me nevertheless, giving me a little shrug. “Fair enough. It’s not everyone’s thing, especially early in the morning. I get it, Peña—”

“Agent Peña. And no, it’s not,” I said back to her. I was just about ready to leave the room, when she grabbed me by the arm, causing me to pause in my tracks.

“Wait,” she said, clearly doing her best to cling to this conversation for as long as she could.

“What?” I snapped. Though, I didn’t move her hand away.

“Do you know an Agent Murphy? I’ve been looking for him,” she asked very quickly, tilting her head. I raised an eyebrow: She had my attention with that one.

“Murphy? Yeah, he’s my partner. Why, what do you want with him?” I asked curiously, facing my body back towards hers.

“He was supposed to give me some case files on drugs, mainly cocaine. I’m going to be working with the dogs, training them on sniffing out drugs and things like that, so I kind of need them.”

I sighed, trying not to roll my eyes at her. “He’s in the office down the hall. I’ll take you there,” I annoyedly offered. That’s where I was going, anyways, so I didn’t have much of a choice.

“Great! Thank you so much. Lead the way,” she grinned in a brilliant smile, signaling to the door. I grumbled and nodded, before making my way down the hall to Murphy and I’s shared office.

What was it I was saying earlier about hope?

if you made it to the end of this, i really hope you liked it! please consider leaving a reblog, as they help my work immensely <3 kisses!

[wheres-mylove]

silent love song | sihtric kjartansson x fem!reader

Summary: A pretty lady is convinced that Sihtric hates her, a pretty warrior is terrified of confessing his feelings more than fighting the most dangerous enemy, and the pretty boys simply have to spring into action, because you can't be more oblivious than these two.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my first language!

Word count: 2.5k

Hope in her heart extinguished as quickly as it had ignited. 

Sihtric Kjartansson ran away from her once again. 

The cool air was a welcome change after hours spent in a stuffy and stinky hall, overflowing with joyful men. Though drunken would be a more fitting description. The wind tousled (Y/N)'s hair as she quietly left the room to take a break from the chaos that only a band of celebrating warriors could create. She turned her head at the sound of approaching footsteps. In the dimly lit vestibule, she recognized Sihtric's figure. He stood there for a few seconds. Then, he spun on his heel and returned to his companions. 

(Y/N) let out a heavy sigh. Since she had never noticed the boy's flushed cheeks and how nervously he gulped, trying to find the courage to talk to her, she once again came to the following conclusion - Sihtric Kjartansson did not like her. From the very beginning. 

Poor girl rested her head against the wooden railing and closed her eyes in frustration. She didn’t even know what his problem was!

“What a cheerful mood,” commented Finan, nudging her with his elbow. “Is the lady planning to stand here in this abyss of despair or will she come back to us?” 

“Why don’t you go away and bother someone else?”

“My other friends have ugly faces. It takes away my drinking joy.” 

(Y/N) laughed and shook her head. 

“Are ya okay? Ale’s too strong?” he asked, then smiled playfully. “Sihtric is worried.”

The girl glanced at him and furrowed her brow in contemplation. She hoped Finan would keep it discreet after she said what she had intended to say. 

“I'm asking you, because you're an honest man,” she began, smoothing the material of her skirts just to occupy her hands. She had to know. “Sometimes even recklessly straightforward.”

“Thank ya,” he replied with a proud smile. Then he processed the second part of her statement and grimaced. “I guess.” 

“Why does Sihtric hate me?” she asked, her tone almost pleading. “I don't mean that he has to like me, but he doesn't utter a word to me, while he talks to everyone else. He runs away at the sight of me! Even today. Is my company that unbearable, or did I do something to offend him? If it's the latter, I will apologize, for heaven's sake!” 

Finan stood there with raised eyebrows for a while. Then he let out a belly laugh. (Y/N) waited with hands placed on her hips until the Irishman stopped wheezing. 

“That's what you get when you ask a drunkard anything,” she retorted, about to walk away, but Finan held her arm.

“No, wait, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” he exclaimed, wiping tears from his eyes. “You've amused me so. Wait! Wait, woman.”

“You're making fun of my problems. If you told me that girls run away at the sight of you, I would at least explain why. Sometimes you're a real piece of shit.”

“Girls go crazy when they see me,” he protested, to which (Y/N) rolled her eyes. “But ya make Danish warriors weak in the knees, so you have nothing to complain about! Sihtric worships the ground ya walk on, I'm serious now.” Finan straightened up and smiled, but this time more gently. “He's cute, but he's already wearing us all out with his tales about your beauty, so if you could just help us out…” 

“You're making fun of me,” (Y/N) replied uncertainly, searching his face for signs of deception. 

“For someone so wise, you're more blind than my grandmother in her final days,” Finan muttered, crossing his arms. “Think for a moment. He doesn't have to say anything. It's just that ya seem to have your eyes up your arse.”

“I should drown you in that barrel of ale. I'm going to sleep, and I suggest you do the same.” The girl jumped off the steps without looking back. 

“He bows when he sees ya approaching, even if miles separate ya,” the Irishman continued. (Y/N) reluctantly stopped, though her stubbornness still prevented her from turning around. “He stands near your tent at night, and believe me, no one dares to enter. Who do ya think takes care of your horse? The servants, to put it mildly, have been dismissed.” (Y/N) slowly faced Finan. “When trouble or danger arises, who magically appears in front of ya? Coincidence, right? And when we set up camp a week ago, I hope ya know that no one conjured those extra furs; they were from him.”

The girl looked down and sighed softly. 

“And the flowers by the entrance of my tent, I presume?”

“Aye, ya should see how enthusiastically he picks them! That beast has gone a bit mad for ya. Anything else, my lady?”

“When I said I have no means to defend myself…”

“A sudden surge of wisdom!”

“Be quiet,” she murmured with a smile, waving him goodbye.

“That's a nice dagger ya have!”

Because it’s Sihtric's.

A complete, humiliating, crippling defeat.

“Did you shit your breeches?” Uhtred yelled loud and clear, even before Sihtric could return defeated to their table.

“Come on, give him a break, lord.” Osferth threw Sihtric a comforting look and a tight-lipped smile. Sihtric messed up his hair and slumped heavily on the bench.

“I can't handle it, I just can't,” he admitted with considerable embarrassment. “If only she were a little less beautiful, everything would look different.”

“Close your eyes then,” Beocca advised from above his bowl of stew.

“God's wisdom knows no bounds,” Osferth commented in a voice devoid of emotion and glanced at Sihtric, who, in his misery, decided to down his ale in one go. 

“I don't understand you, I simply don't understand you,” Uhtred sighed. “A brave warrior, slaying enemies with a sword, an axe, even with bare hands. And he's afraid to simply talk to a lady.” 

“Uhtred, feelings have overwhelmed people more than once. The heart is not inclined to listen to rational explanations. It follows its own rules,” Beocca spoke up, folding his hands on the table. “Don't lose faith, Sihtric. Everything will work out.”

“He doesn't need faith, just some balls,” Uhtred protested, to which the priest and the baby monk gave him disapproving looks. 

“What? Nothing but the truth.”

“She wouldn't want me anyway,” the young warrior spoke, staring into the bottom of his mug. “She is a lady, and what am I? What can I offer her? What can I give her? It's pathetic. It's enough for me to admire her from a distance and know that she's safe; the rest is just a stupid dream.”

“He's entered the wailing phase,” Uhtred groaned. Leaning back, he looked towards the entrance. “Finan went to her. He probably annoyed her. Oh, he definitely annoyed her. Maybe she was already irritated that you messed up once again and exploded.”

“Whatever do you mean?” 

“Gods, Sihtric, she was looking at you all evening. She went outside alone, so you had a perfect excuse to approach her, you fool.”

“It's not that simple-”

“My lady, what a beautiful evening it is today. You suddenly disappeared, and I wanted to make sure everything is okay. It is? Great. I wanted to be certain. And ask if you would like to sleep in my tent tonight.”

“Uhtred!”

“What now?”

“The savage speaks through you,” Beocca scolded him. Meanwhile, Finan returned and leaned conspiratorially over his dark-haired friend. 

“(Y/N) asked about ya, little runt.” 

“About me?” Sihtric raised his head so quickly that he almost broke his friend's nose. “What exactly did she say?” 

“Ya would know if ya had gone there and asked her yourself,” Finan replied with a wicked smile and darted back towards the exit. 

“Finan!” Sihtric shouted after him, immediately getting up from his seat. “What did she say? Finan!”

“If things continue to look like this, the opportunity will slip right past him,” Uhtred concluded, watching with amusement as Sihtric chased after the Irishman. “We need to corner him.”

“But how, my lord?” Osferth asked uncertainly. “He gets very nervous in her presence. I doubt we can…”

 “Anger is a bit stronger than fear. And I have an idea.”

 “Oh God, watch over us.”

Something was off. Aethelwold had never sat so close. And Sihtric's eyes had never gleamed with such fury. 

“That's exactly how it happened, my lady. I'm not telling this story to boast, oh no,” the royal nephew spoke, gesturing animatedly.

(Y/N) had hoped for a peaceful afternoon and a bit of quiet in the shade of the sprawling oak tree. She had some things to think about. She had to think about Sihtric. About Finan's words. And about things she hadn't noticed before. Perhaps she had indeed surpassed the Irishman's grandmother in her blindness. 

Barely had she settled under the tree with an apple in her hand and a tangle of thoughts in her head when Sihtric appeared nearby. He must have had a lot to do in that area.

She lifted her gaze when she felt him looking at her. He blushed to the tips of his ears and bowed deeply. She smiled and was about to get up and approach him. (Y/N) had prepared a perfect excuse. The dagger desperately needed sharpening. Maybe Sihtric would confess that he had given it to her. But all dreams and plans were ruined by Aethelwold, emerging out of nowhere with an innocent smile. 

“My lady,” he began and sat down next to her without waiting for an invitation. “If it's not a bother, I'll keep you company for a while. I see it's not. We haven't had a chance to get to know each other better, don't you think?” 

(Y/N) wasn't quite sure what this arrogant man was getting at, but she decided to listen to his utterly fascinating stories for a while so as not to appear rude. 

Sihtric was seething. He thought Osferth was lying because Uhtred ordered him to. The young monk had told him in great secrecy that he overheard a conversation between Aethelwold and (Y/N)'s brother. The topic of discussion was an initial marriage agreement. Of course, Sihtric didn’t believe him. 

But now, before Sihtric's eyes, that pile of dung was cozying up to his lady. He was probably telling outrageous things just to brag. 

Sihtric Kjartansson sharpened his sword, carefully observing every move of Aethelwold. That poor fool felt beads of sweat on his forehead when their eyes met. 

“Lord, if you'll allow me, I'm very tired,” (Y/N) gently interrupted his never-ending story and got up, dusting off her dress. Aethelwold stood up with her and grabbed her wrist firmly, holding her in place. 

Big mistake. 

One pleading look from (Y/N) later, the man, royal or not, landed on his backside with a loud thud, forcefully pushed away. 

“The lady leaves when she wishes to leave, and you keep your hands to yourself,” the young Dane growled, to which Aethelwold raised his hands in a defensive gesture. 

“Yes, I apologize,” he quickly stammered, gathering himself from the ground and rushing off to an appointed place. 

“Never again, he looked at me like he were the devil himself,” Aethelwold said in a high-pitched voice. He extended his hand, on which Uhtred sprinkled a few silver coins. “I demand a barrel of ale added to my payment. He was sharpening his sword!”

“We saw. Someone got maaad,” chuckled Finan, trying to get a better look from behind the twigs.

“Important thing is, it worked. That justifies my lie, doesn't it, lord?” Osferth asked for a confirmation, pushing past Finan.

“God will forgive you,” Uhtred promised. “But you won't get the ale, Aethelwold. There was supposed to be a kiss too.”

“Of course! So he could kill me!”

Unaware of the trap set for him, Sihtric was seething with jealousy and a sense of injustice. She couldn't marry that scoundrel. 

“Thank you, I thought I'd never get rid of him,” (Y/N) smiled and bowed her head slightly. 

“Can I say something?” Sihtric asked with desperate fervor.

“You certainly should, it's rare,” the girl laughed, but her expression grew serious at the sight of his face. 

“Don't marry him. Don't do this to me and to yourself.”

“Sihtric? I'm not…”

“Aethelwold doesn't deserve you. Honestly, I doubt anyone ever will. He's a coward and you, (Y/N), need something more. Someone who will pledge you a sword along with their heart. And give you that whole heart until it becomes one with yours. Make you a part of their world in its very core. They'll dream of you because you're someone worth dreaming of. Worth of devotion and tenderness. They'll see in you not only the beauty that weakens me, but also the strength and courage that are evident in every move you make-”

(Y/N) looked at him for a while, her gaze wandering over his face. 

“Weaken you?”

“What?” Sihtric stumbled, suddenly realizing the weight of his slip of the tongue.

“Why were you silent for so long if you speak like this?” (Y/N) sighed before rising on her tiptoes and planting a sweet kiss on his lips. Sihtric didn't open his eyes, afraid it was all a dream. 

“My lady? I... I apologize if it's too much at once…”

“Someone recently talked some sense into me, so now I know you've been telling me this all along, little by little,” (Y/N) confessed, cupping his face in her hands. “You spoke through your actions, Sihtric. I'm sorry for averting my gaze.”

The mighty warrior fixed his gaze on the tree, embarrassed to meet the girl's eyes.

“Did you at least like the flowers?”

“Very much. Where do you pick them?”

“It's a secret.”

“We can go pick them together sometime. And roll in the grass.” 

Sihtric burst into laughter and kissed her more passionately. The realization hit him that now he could. 

“Wait,” (Y/N) suddenly said, holding him back by the arm. “Where did the idea that I'm getting married come from?”

“Osferth told me,” he said, furrowing his brow. “And the person that told you-”

“Finan,” (Y/N) quickly interrupted. 

“One could have guessed.”

“No. Well, yes. But now I mean that Finan is standing over there and waving at us.” 

Sihtric turned around abruptly. Now not only Finan, but also the rest of the party left their hiding spot. The boys looked very pleased with themselves. 

“Right, Uhtred all along,” (Y/N) looked at Sihtric. “You frightened the poor man and he was just doing your lord's bidding.”

“He deserved it,” he whispered in her ear. They heard a cough behind them. Father Beocca also decided to grace them with his presence. 

“Is anyone else hiding in the bushes?” Sihtric muttered, rolling his eyes. 

“I only came to inquire about when we're setting the date for the wedding.”

“Whose wedding? It's easy to get confused,” (Y/N) chuckled. 

“Yours, lady. With Sihtric, of course,” Beocca replied nonchalantly, pointing with his finger at the Dane still embracing her tightly. “Uhtred told me.”

[ponderingmoonlight]

How JJK men react to different insecurities Part 2

Pairings: Nanami x reader who doesn't want kids (requested by anons) Gojo x reader who gained weight (requested by anon) Megumi x reader who has a hooked nose (requested by @monikosworld)

Word Count: 3,2k

Warnings: as usual, please don't read if you feel triggered by those topics, Nanami's and Gojo's part are a little angst to extreme fluff, remember you are beautiful just the way you are (all those JJK men agree with me after all) and none of those insecurities take away from that 🤍

Especially for this series I'm very thankful for every feedback in terms of comments, likes and/or reblogs since it's pretty challenging for me to write 🤍

click here for Part 1 with Nanami (reader with facial scars), Megumi (reader with small breasts) and Sukuna (reader with acne)

Also, I wish everyone of you the happiest holidays ever! May all your dreams and wishes come true and remember to stay just the way you are - you are perfect 🌹

Kento Nanami with a reader who doesn't want kids

Your heart skips a beat when his gaze meets yours, his elegant steps trapping you in place. God, how is it possible for a man to be this gorgeous, how is it even allowed for him to look this good? When you first met Kento Nanami, you fell in love with him at first sight. Nothing about this man could ever throw you off.

Except for the stinging fact that he seems like the perfect father.

The way he acts especially around Yuji Itadori warms and breaks your heart at the same time. Even though he never specifically said that he wants to have children someday, you can just tell by the loving gleam in his eyes when Yuji isn’t paying attention how much he cares for that boy. And while you get why he feels this way, it makes your guts turn.

You never wanted kids. Not your own, not adopted, not a single thought of urging for a baby ever crossed your mind. You love your life the way it is, maybe with a pet when you finally settled in, but children? They were never part of the plan.

But this is important, right? How would it even be possible for a romantic relationship to work when such a life-changing decision differs? You don’t even have to ask him about this. The way he always saves children first, how he acts towards the young students, his dad-like appearance when something happens to them. Oh, how you love it and hate it at the same time. Over the past months, you grew very close to each other, spent evening after evening at each other’s places. He began to bring you flowers on a regular basis, even cuddling you to sleep when you come back from an exhausting mission.

You can’t give him more, though. Not when it’s so obvious that you want different things in life, not when your relationship is going to fail before it even started.

“There you are, I searched everywhere for you.”

He presses a gentle kiss against your cheek, making your heart ache in agony all over again. How are you supposed to get out of this? Damn, you don’t even want to get out, you want to be by his side until the end of time, you want to fall asleep and wake up next to this man. But deep down, you know this isn’t fair, that it isn’t possible to live a life like this without giving up your principles or forcing him to give up the thought of having children someday.

“There is something very important I wanted to talk about for a long time. (y/n), you make me feel better than I ever did in my entire life, the time I have with you is so precious to me that I can’t even put it into words. I know this might sound strange and I don’t know if this is the correct way to do it but I was wondering if you…if you want to make it official.”

You feel like fainting and throwing up at the same time, eyes for a single spark of humour in his gleaming orbs. This is great!

Your heart sinks.

No, actually it isn’t. Because this is the time you’ll have to push him away. This innocent question is the end of the wonderful thing you’ve had. Why? Why are you so suborn? Why is the thought of having children so disgusting for you? Aren’t you able to change for the love of your life, for the sake of the strong feelings you have for Kento Nanami?

You shake your head, hands clenched into tight fists. No. There is absolutely no way you’ll gift Kento a child just to keep him. This wouldn’t be fair, right? Fair for you, fair for the child, fair for Kento. He deserves someone who loves this idea truly, someone who is able to give him what he needs.

And that someone isn’t you.

“I can’t give you what you want, Kento.”

Your monotone voice catches him off guard, your words cracking his heart like a walnut. This doesn’t make any sense, it seems almost unbelievable.

“But you are what I want, (y/n).”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about”, you bark so suddenly that he flinches, crossing your arms in front of your chest and staring at the ground.

“I can’t give you what you want, the future you deserve.”

“What is it that you’re insecure about? Why would you think there is something you aren’t able to give me?”

“I don’t want kids”, you mutter.

He draws closer, hands about to gently grab your chin when you slap his hand away furious.

“I don’t want kids!”, you shout.

Fuck, why do your eyes have to burn in hot tears right now, why do you have to feel so miserable about this? It’s nothing uncommon, you are enough without having children, you are…

You are not what he wants. And that’s what hurts the most.

Thick silence hangs between both of you, Kento’s hand resting in the air. You don’t even dare to look at him, his face of disappointment would be more than you are able to handle. Why didn’t you tell him sooner? Why did you allow yourself to fall for him when you knew right from the start that this won’t work out long-term?

“Is that what you’re feeling so doubtful about? That you don’t want children?”

You nod silently, the big knot forming in your throat stopping you from saying another word. Breaking down and crying in front of him is the last thing you want to do right now.

“I don’t want children either.”

Oh.

Your glossy eyes dart up in an instant, his hands grabbing yours.

“Even though I will always care and look after children, I don’t want them to carry the burden of this world. I am a jujutsu sorcerer just like you are, we are doomed to risk our lives for the sake of others. I couldn’t forgive myself if I leave a child behind without its father, let alone you. Your wish isn’t a problem for me at all, (y/n).”

You have to blink a few times, mind desperately trying to process his words. The Kento Nanami doesn’t want kids. The thing you were always afraid of…

Isn’t even a problem.

“You don’t want kids as well”, you breathe out.

“I don’t want kids as well, yes.”

“Oh.”

Without hesitation, he pulls you into his arms. Is this a dream? Did it really turn out good? You were always rejected for not wanting children, for disliking the thought of raising a baby. But him, he looks at you with so much affection in his eyes that you almost tear up.

“And I admire you for standing your ground. I know how critical people are when it comes to a person who doesn’t want kids. I always appreciated you for your inner strength, (y/n).”

“I love you, Kento”, you blurt out.

You waste no time. In the matter of seconds, you press your lips longingly against his, set all your feelings free. This is everything you ever dreamed of, all you ever wanted.

Not only did you find a man who accepts you the way you are, but this man happens to me none other than Kento Nanami.

“I love you too, (y/n)”, he mumbles against your lips softly.

Satoru Gojo with a reader who gained some weight

You stare at the number on the scale, eyes watering in defeat. It shouldn’t surprise you that you gained a fair amount of weight. After all, you’ve been so stressed out these past months, roaming from mission to mission and only eating out in consequence. But this, this shocks you. This, this breaks you.

The keys of the main door turn, his long steps linger down the hallways. It’s because of him. Satoru Gojo, your precious boyfriend. The man who fell in love with you years ago and loved you ever since. He is such a good-looking and loving man. And in contrast to you, he’s as fit as he was at the beginning of your relationship.

With a swift motion you lock the bathroom door and let yourself glide down the cold tiles behind you, tears now running down your face like a waterfall. Why do you have to be so damn undisciplined? It shouldn’t be this hard to just eat less, it shouldn’t be this hard to have control over your body.

But it is. And that’s why you’re looking the way you do. It hit you like a wall when your clothes didn’t fit the way they did a few months ago, it almost killed you when a friend of you pointed out what you desperately tried to supress.

“Oh, you gained quite some weight, (y/n)! I almost didn’t recognize you.”

He doesn’t deserve this. No, Satoru deserves a partner who takes care of themselves, he deserves someone who is as fit as himself. Even though not a single negative comment about your body ever left his mouth, you know what he must think – just like everyone else.

And you hate yourself for letting it come this far.

“Babe, are you in there?”

The sound of his fingers knocking against the wooden door makes you panic. No, he can’t see you like this, the only thing you’re wearing is underwear and a t-shirt. The way your thighs giggle with every move, your visible belly, the stretch marks covering your thighs and arms…

He might leave you sooner or later.

“If you’re not answering, I’m just coming in-“

“No”, you interrupt him immediately.

“I don’t want to see you right now.”

It shouldn’t surprise you at all that he opens the door with ease, his feet coming to a stand in front of your cramped-up figure on the floor.

“You never said something like this to me. Hey, are you cryin’?”

Just when you’re about to turn away from him, he lifts you off the ground and presses your body against his faster than you could ever react. You want to hide in a tiny hole, disappear out of his arms. But instead, your eyes are locked with his bright blue orbs.

“What’s wrong babe? I’ve never seen you like this. A snack like you shouldn’t sit here all alone while cryin’.”

“Don’t call me a snack”, you bark at him with more force than intended.

God, how much you hate yourself at the moment. He doesn’t deserve the way you speak to him at all. To be honest, Satoru deserves so much better than you anyway and that fact alone kills you from the inside.

“Why, huh? Am I not allowed to call my girlfriend hot now?”

“I’M FAT, MORON!”

The venomous words escape your mouth before you are able to stop yourself, your pathetic sniffles hollering back at you in disgust. This is so ridiculous. You shouldn’t lash out at him because you feel bad about yourself, you shouldn’t even complain. After all, everything is your own fault.

“You have to be kidding, right? Is this some kind of joke, is a camera behind the mirror?”

You can’t get a hold of yourself anymore. With a swift motion you rip yourself out of his grasp and storm out of the room, not even listening to the things he shouts after you. Isn’t it humiliating enough that he made you say it out loud? Why would you joke about something like this? Your shaky hands grab your keys, ready to leave your shared apartment when he comes storming after you.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. Just look at me, okay?”

Just before you are able to open the door, Satoru’s strong arms grab you from behind and pull you against his chest.

“Don’t you dare to say something like that ever again, (y/n). You’ve been through so much these last months and honestly, I love you more than I ever did before. I’m incredibly proud of the person you’ve became and you’ll always be the hottest chick around. I didn’t even notice that you gained a little weight and I give zero shits about it. You’re hot, you’re gorgeous, you are my girlfriend. And a single number on a random scale will never change that.”

Your whole body begins to tremble as you let yourself fall against him, a sniffle of relief escaping before you are able to stop it. Satoru was never good at playing with words, let alone showing his emotions linguistically. But those oh so sweet words that seem to heal your heart in an instant…

You are truly lucky to have him.

“You really don’t care that I gained some weight?”, you murmur, turning around in his arms in order so see his face.

“I couldn’t care less. And now get your cute ass back at the couch and watch some Netflix, okay?”

Megumi with a reader who has a hooked nose

Megumi can’t help but huff in disappointment when looking at you. There you are again, hiding your gorgeous face behind a mask. You do it day in and day out, stating this is very common and that you don’t want to breathe in all the dust and rubble from the big city.

But you lie. He can tell by the way your eyes dart to the ground and how a slight blush creeps up what’s visible of your cheeks. The first and last time he has seen your gorgeous face was when you wandered around the hallways late at night, obviously not expecting him to be around. You looked so scared back then, your hands instantly covering half of your face.

He always wondered why. Was it because your sense of smell is so good? Is it because he stinks? Instinctively, Megumi lifts up his arm and takes in his own scent. No, it doesn’t seem as if he’s the problem.

“Hi Megumi, how are you today?”

“Why are you always wearing that mask, (y/n)?”

Your heart stops for a second, widen eyes staring at the boy in front of you in nothing but shock. Oh, how often you already tried to fool him, how often you didn’t tell him how you feel. The truth is that you hate the way your nose looks. Every other girl seems to have the perfect little nose, perfectly shaped, cute and innocent.

But you? Your nose is hooked, not straight, tiny or cute by any means. The second you look into the mirror, it seems to stare right through your soul and makes all of your decent facial features fade into the background. Yes, you truly hate the way your nose looks so much that you rather hide it behind a mask each and every day. Especially from him.

Megumi has been your secret crush for quite some time by now, but you never had the courage to tell him, let alone ask him out. Why would he want to be with you anyway? With all those beautiful girls like Nobara and Maki surrounding him, you have nothing to give.

“W-what do you mean?”, you stutter, eyes meeting the ground in an instant.

“You told me over and over you do it because of the dust in the air, but that’s not true, isn’t it? Are you insecure about something?”

“I- you-, M-Megumi…”

You don’t know what to say, completely bamboozled by the way he seems to stare right through your soul. How did he find out you lied? Was it because your cheek turned bright pink? Or was it the fact that you weren’t even able to look in his eyes? Frantically, you try to find a way out of this misery. Maybe a new lie? No, he will smell it from a mile away. Being honest? He’ll definitely make fun of you. But this is Megumi, he isn’t-

“(y/n)”, he interrupts your train of thoughts.

“Let me take of that mask for you.”

You can’t move, let alone talk. With your eyes widen in horror you watch as his hands come closer and closer, fingertips gently gliding behind your ear. This is the moment you’ve been afraid of ever since meeting him. What if he scrunches up his face in disgust? What if he even laughs at you like all those children at school back then?

His eyes roam around your face for what feels like an eternity, face showing not a single emotion. Is this good? Is it bad? Your heart pounds against your ribcage, trembling fingertips intertwined with each other. Please, let this be over soon.

“Maybe I should go-“

“You look absolutely mesmerising. I think I’ve never seen a girl as beautiful as you, (y/n). Why would you hide yourself behind a mask?”

You have to blink a few times in order to process that this is really happening. Yes, Megumi Fushiguro is standing in front of you, looking at nothing but your face while saying that you’re beautiful.

Megumi Fushiguro…Think you’re beautiful?

“B-But…My nose is hooked”, you reply.

“I always thought it makes me look horrible.”

“Horrible?”, he remarks.

“You’re not looking horrible at all. I love the way your nose makes your face looks strong but feminine. There is nothing to be ashamed of.”

The butterflies in your stomach slowly but surely go crazy by now. You must be dreaming all of this. It can’t be Megumi standing in front of you and saying all those nice things, right?

“Really?”

He adores the way your face lights up in an instant. How is it possible that you are this surprised? Did no one tell you already how beautiful you are?

“Of course. I mean every word I say. Also, there’s something I wanted to ask you…”

Him, wanting to ask you something? Megumi scratches the back of his head awkwardly while clearing his throat. Is that a little blush creeping up his cheeks?

“Do you…Do you want to go out with me this evening? We could grab something to eat and I don’t know, watch a movie or something.”

“You really want to go on a date with me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Breathe in, breathe out. Don’t let him see how excited you are.

“I’d love that.”

You turn on your heel and walk out of the room frantically. No, you can’t contain yourself any longer. With a cry of joy, you jump up and down, hand gently rubbing over your nose.

Maybe this isn’t as bad as you thought. Maybe all it takes is a single person who does not only accept you, but adore you just the way you are.

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @chilichopsticks

[godlywh0re]

Angels with Filthy Souls

Rust Cohle x Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Notes: No use of (y/n) because i hate it :)

The night is hot, and your hair clings to your face as you swipe it away. Sweat covering you in a light sheen, sticky as it holds to you like a second skin. The weak air conditioning of the small local store does nothing to help, but neither does the ecstasy you popped in the bathroom on your break. What else were you supposed to do in a town that was too small to do anything? Where luckily everybody but their mamas minded their own business. So long as your work got done, the sleazy old man who owned the place didn’t care. 

Your fingers tremble rearranging the lighter display. Your muscles itching for any sort of stimulation as the drug courses through your veins. You think your boss likes it better when you’re high on your shift, the drugs making you too hyperactive to stand in one place. The old man usually watches you in slight astonishment when you get into a cleaning spree, scrubbing down the walls and floors like your life depends on it, creating new displays for products that keeps customers happy. But tonight, he stays tucked away in his office. He muttered something about ordering a product, but it was lost on you now.

The bell that hangs beside the entrance door rings, signaling a customer had come in. You don’t notice him at first—too caught up in the rush, your heart beating too fast, skin buzzing with a warmth that has nothing to do with the heat outside. But out of curiosity and obligation, you look up. Breath almost catches in your throat as you size him up unapologetically. 

He’s tall, lean, an air of exhaustion hanging around him as he walks. His hair is pulled back low and his eyes— Jesus, they’re dark, as if he’s seen too much. He moves steady, purposefully, like he doesn’t have time for the world, but it still owes him something. He walks right up to the counter, tosses a case of beer down, Lone Star, before he settles his eyes on you. Really settled, peeling away layers you didn’t even know you had. His eyes narrow as he takes in your appearance. You know how you look, pupils blown wide, messy hair falling all over the place. But he doesn’t look at you like others do. There isn’t any judgment, no pity. He just looks.

“They let you be all doped up on the job?” His voice is rough, a flicker of amusement in his eyes, just a hint of it. The low southern drawl of his words isn’t lost on you as heat shoots through your body.

His words hang in the air. It could’ve been a jab, but the slight amusement in his eyes made it feel like a joke only the two of you were in on. You feel a grin tug at your lips, slow and lazy, your mind still swimming in a haze. “He doesn’t care as long as my job gets done,” Your tone soft and syrupy as you shrugged half heartedly. Your fingers move to trace your collarbone nonchalantly. His eyes follow, not in the way you want them to, but more like he was just curious. “Pretty young thing like me is good for business anyways.” 

He doesn’t react much, doesn't give you that look most men do when they see an easy target, just nods like he’s seen it all before. You can’t tell if that makes you want to impress him or piss him off. Instead, he looks as though he’s trying to figure you out, a puzzle he isn’t sure he wants to solve. You should’ve felt insulted, but all it did was make your heart pound faster.

"You know a place to get downers?" His voice drops low as he leans in slightly, almost like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear, though you two are the only ones on the sales floor. 

A shiver runs up your spine at his closer proximity, the smell of him coming over to you in wafts. Deep and earthy, the smell of a forest mixed with the scent of cigarette smoke that clings to him. “You a cop?” You ask low, a playfulness in your tone edging its way towards reckless. Hell, you couldn’t care less if he was. Whatever game that had been started was too captivating. 

He shakes his head, and for the first time, you see the hint of a smirk on his lips. "Nah," he murmurs, his voice low, gravelly. He says it without even trying to convince you. But you believe him anyway. 

"Stronger than alcohol? Not much round here like that. Whatcha sad for anyhow, Mister?" You tease, raising an eyebrow. There was something funny about it—him asking you for downers, like he was looking for something to drag him down even further. But the way he looks at you, you can tell he’s not in the mood to answer that question. Men like him don’t talk about what haunts them, not to girls like you. 

You don’t push. You lean in a little, closer now than before, letting your voice drop to a whisper. "I have some Nembutal, if you want that. Give me a ride home tonight." It was stupid, all your self-preservation draining away as you stare into his worn eyes.

There’s a pause, long, heavy silence where you think he might just walk away. He stares at you, weighing some kind of decision in his thoughts. But then he nods, real slow, like he’d already made up his mind.

 “Get your stuff.” His voice is detached, almost mechanical, but there was something in his eyes—something that said he knew exactly what he was walking into. 

You feel a rush of adrenaline run through you, or maybe it’s just the drugs. His hand digs in his pocket before pulling out a twenty for the beer. You take the crumpled bill from his hand, your fingers brushing his just for a second. It lingers, sending a jolt through you before sliding the bill into the register. The metallic clink of coins feels distant, like background noise compared to the thudding of your heart. Your palms are still sweaty, but you can’t tell if it’s from the ecstasy or him. Probably both.

His eyes stay on you as you punch in the numbers and drop his change into the tray. You could feel them—sharp, unrelenting—like he was waiting for something. You hand him the receipt without a word, the tension in the air hangs heavy, thick enough to choke on. You watch him tuck the case of beer under one arm, a cigarette already dangling from his lips as he turns and heads for the door. 

Jittery and buzzing with a thrill, you turn and head quickly to the door of the back office. You find your manager slouched in his chair, flipping through some old magazine like the world didn’t exist outside his little office. The smell of stale coffee filled the room, and the hum of the mini-fridge by his desk made everything feel even more claustrophobic.

"Hey," you say, leaning against the doorframe, "you mind if I head out early tonight? It’s dead out there, and I already closed up the till."

He barely glances up, his eyes heavy with the same indifference you’d come to expect. "Yeah, whatever," he grumbles, waving you off. "Just make sure you lock the back door before you go."

His words barely register. You’re already halfway out the door, pulse pounding in your ears. Each step toward the front of the store pushes you closer to something you can’t quite understand yet. 

After grabbing your stuff and locking the doors you head outside to the parking lot. His pickup truck rumbles low, waiting. He watches in his side mirror, cigarette pressed to his lips tight. Your heart races again—half nerves, half thrill—as you make your way to the passenger side. You notice the smashed tail light, but it feels distant, unimportant in the heat of the moment.

Sliding into the seat with a quiet shut of the door, the truck groans as it starts to take off. The Louisiana air is warm, heavy with the smell of dirt and pine, the windows are down just enough to let in a bit of a breeze. It’s quiet between you and him—this stranger whose name you don’t even know yet—but you feel the weight of his presence next to you and it’s sinking into your bones.

You glance over at him, sneaking looks when you think he isn’t paying attention. He’s focused on the road, one hand on the wheel, the other resting near his lap, cigarette between his fingers. The smoke curls lazily into the air, mixing with the dusty haze outside. He’s older, definitely older than you, with lines on his face that time put there. His eyes are sharp, though, always looking for something, even when there’s nothing to see.

Your heart is still racing from the ecstasy, even though the high’s starting to fade. The tingling in your limbs is going, but the nervous energy, the buzz of the moment, clings to you. You’ve never felt this way before—this strange pull toward someone you’ve barely exchanged two words with. It’s like you’re waiting for something to happen, something you can’t quite name.

You shift in your seat, the leather hot and sticky against your skin, and finally, you break the silence. "You don’t talk much, do you?" It’s more of an observation than a question, but you can’t help yourself. You’re trying to figure him out, this man who walked into the store and made you feel like you were floating.

He doesn’t look at you, just takes a drag from his cigarette. "Not much to say." His voice is low, harsh, like he’s been chewing on the words before spitting them out.

You smirk, trying to play it cool, but the way his voice rumbles makes you shiver. "Could’ve fooled me. Seems like you got a lot goin' on up there."

That gets him to glance your way, just for a second. His eyes flick over you, sharp and assessing, trying to decide whether you’re worth his time. "What makes you say that?"

You shrug, turning your head to look out the window. The trees blur by, dark and thick, like they’re swallowing the road whole. "People don’t ask for downers ‘less they got something to quiet down," you murmur, your fingers tracing idle circles on your thigh, still feeling that lingering edge of the high.

He doesn’t answer right away, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s even going to. The silence stretches between you like a rubber band about to snap. Finally, he lets out a slow breath, and you can feel his eyes on you again. "What about you? What are you trying to quiet?"

You turn toward him, a little surprised he even bothered to ask. Most people don’t. Most people are happy to let you burn yourself out without asking why, so long as you showed up to church Sunday mornings. But there’s something in his tone that makes you think he already knows you’re not going to answer, that maybe he’s not even expecting you to.

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Same as anyone else, I guess,” you say, deflecting, eyes flicking back to the road. “Ain’t none of it worth talkin’ about.”

He hums, like he understands, like he’s been there before. “Fair enough,” he mutters, eyes back on the road.

“Names Rust.” He grumbles out, but the way he says it, could have made you think he was talking to himself. The silence that follows isn’t as tense, but it’s still there, lingering between you. The only sound is the hum of the engine and the occasional crack of gravel under the tires. His presence next to you feels almost suffocating, but at the same time, it keeps you anchored, like you need him there even if you don’t know why.

As you near the turn to your place, you nod ahead. “Just down that dirt road,” you say, pointing. He flicks the turn signal, even though there’s no one else around to see it. The truck bumps along the narrow path, branches scraping the sides, making the whole thing feel like you’re descending into another world, away from everything and everyone.

When the small house you call home comes into view, you suddenly feel exposed. This is it. This is your life—a rundown little place surrounded by trees, no one else for miles. And here he is, this stranger with too many shadows behind his eyes, pulling into it like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

He kills the engine, and for a moment, you both just sit there in the growing dark. The air feels thick, like there’s something unsaid hanging between you, waiting to be acknowledged

“You wanna come in?” you ask, your voice softer now, unsure.

He exhales, tapping out his cigarette before glancing at you. His eyes hold yours for a long moment, searching. “Not tonight.” There’s something final in the way he says it, but it’s not cold. Just… resolute.

You nod, pretending like that doesn’t sting a little. “Suit yourself. I’ll go get those for you.” You push the door open and hop out, the cool night air hitting you like a wall after the stuffy heat of the truck. You don’t look back as you walk up to your door, but you can feel his eyes on you the whole way.

With a quick unlock of your door, you hurry off to your bathroom. It’s small, the sink not large enough to hold all the leftover medications you have. The bottles rattle as you rummage, the Nembutal is half empty as you pick it up. You think about giving him the whole bottle but you decide against it. The slight chance of him seeing you again, even if it’s just for pills, is enough to make you hold off. 

You step back outside, the Nembutal rattling lightly in your hand as you walk toward the truck. The night air feels cooler now, the weight of it settling on your skin, but it doesn’t do much to calm the nervous energy swirling inside you. The ecstasy almost completely worn off, leaving you with that familiar edge of anxiety, the dull ache of reality creeping back in.

He’s still sitting there, his truck idling low, the faint glow of another cigarette lighting up his face. You hesitate for a moment, just long enough to wonder what the hell you’re doing, before handing him the pills through the open window.

“Here,” you say quietly, your voice a little steadier than you feel. “That should do it.”

He takes them without a word, his fingers brushing yours just briefly, but it’s enough to send another jolt through you. You pull back, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you try to play it cool.

“Thanks,” he mutters, slipping the small bag into the pocket of his jacket. His eyes meet yours again, and for a second, it feels like he’s about to say something more, like there’s a moment hanging there, fragile and uncertain.

But he doesn’t. He just nods once, almost like a silent goodbye, and shifts the truck into gear. You stand there for a while, watching the dark swallow him up, the buzzing from the ecstasy completely gone now, leaving you with just the weight of everything. You’re not sure if you’ll see him again, but something about the way he looked at you tonight makes you think you will.

[steddielations]

Flight of Icarus lore dump part 2:

Part 1 | Character List

- Wayne has a green thumb. He reads Gardener’s Weekly magazine. It doesn’t say what he grows, but it says he buys vegetables from the store so I’m going to say that gruff old man Wayne has the prettiest petunias in the whole trailer park.

- Eddie sneaks into the Hawk with his best friend Ronnie to watch action movies and thinks Snake Plissken, Han Solo and Conan the Barbarian are cool.

- Eddie talks for hours about the intricacies of Elven politics in Tolkien.

- Eddie read comics as a kid and hid them all over the house "like a little squirrel" under the bed, behind the nightstand, under the rug. Wayne found his Uncanny X-Men in the freezer between stacks of tv dinners. Also, "Hellfire Club" comes from these X-Men comics.

- Floor time! There's a part where Eddie is literally just lying on his back on his bedroom floor counting down from a million. When Wayne comes home, Eddie army crawls on his belly to the doorway to see him.

- Eddie reads Gormenghast paperbacks, gothic fantasy novels. It mentions that Wayne saved them from the house fire along with Eddie’s guitar. It never says how/when Eddie originally got his guitar.

- Eddie says lots of cc’s original songs have D&D references. It's implied that he writes them. One is called “Fire Shroud” after a spell

- Eddie is called Freak King at school and Munson Junior or just Junior around town and he hates all of it

- Eddie talks about having anxiety a lot and it's implied he has had panic attacks in the past

- Eddie is the lead singer and guitarist of cc. He started the band with Ronnie specifically because it was required to participate in the school talent show.

- Neither Wayne or Al graduated high school. When Eddie (temporarily) drops out, Al celebrates.

- Eddie doesn't cook. He doesn't even own a spatula. The smell of cooking in their house actually shocks him and gives him a deep longing for family meals, which Al uses to manipulate him

- Eddie jokes about being into Saturday Night Fever and strikes the pose a couple times.

- Eddie knows how to hotwire and how to pick locks. Al taught him this at the age of ten. Eddie is "disgusted" with himself any time he does either of those things.

- Eddie "drives like a monster" when he's upset about something.

- Eddie smokes cigarettes occasionally. Weed is mentioned a lot in the book but it never says anything about Eddie smoking it or doing any drugs. He either doesn't smoke much or he hasn't tried anything yet in the book. Also, he’s just now meeting Rick. But It’s pretty clear after everything he went through why he would start

- There's lots of mentions of PBR and Bud Light. Though Eddie says he doesn't like to drink after his shifts at the Hideout (where he's a barback). He mostly drinks off-brand Big Buy soda in the book (he calls it "pop")

- Eddie's parents were married on March 12th, 1966. The date is inscribed on the bottle of their wedding wine. Eddie asks what kind it is and Al says they only had 'red or white' kind of money

- Al breaks out the wedding wine (to manipulate Eddie, you guessed it) it's red wine and Eddie really, really likes it

- Eddie went to War Zone with his dad for supplies for the truck heist (spike strips, coveralls, etc)

- Eddie's band played Exciter by Judas Priest at the talent show. The song was only approved because they emphasized the "priest"

- There was another (?) talent show in Winter of 1981 where Eddie's band played "Prowler" and they were kicked off stage halfway through because the song was considered Satanic, and the PTA visited all their parents for trying to convert everyone to Satanism.

- Eddie imagines hitting his dad twice. Once with a glass bottle and once with a metal wrench. (He should've- oops who said that)

- The only hug Eddie gets in the book is when his dad first comes back, Eddie knows it's the first step in his cycle of showing up, using Eddie and leaving, but Eddie still accepts the hug and feels guilty for enjoying it.

- It's implied Eddie gets close to tears a couple times in the book, but the only time they actually spring up is when his mom's favorite song (from Muddy Waters) comes on in the truck radio while Eddie is doing the heist with his dad and feeling awful about it. Eddie has several flashbacks of dancing with her to this song, it seems like his happiest memory that he always returns to.

- Whenever Eddie is doing what his dad wants (hotwiring, charming a person into their plans) he puts on what he calls his "best Al Munson smile" and he's terrified that it will eventually take over his whole face. There's a part at the end where Eddie is sitting in a jail cell and says "All I want to do is tear my face off. If a new one grows in it's place, maybe it'll make me a different person. Someone who isn't such a complete fuckup."

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: angst, fluff

Summary: Just because you're brought back to him doesn't mean you're going to stop doing what you love. You tried to make a life for yourself by going to college for fashion design. You want to keep normalcy even though you're far from it.

Between Love and Hate Masterlist

Squares Filled: image prompt (U1) (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Then

After promising yourself you’d read more this year, you decided to read a few chapters every night before bed. You were sitting in the comfortable reading chair your grandma let you have when she got sick. She used to sit on this thing and read to you all the time, now it was your turn to sit and read to her. The only noise was coming from the TV where you put on a YouTube video of rain sounds. It wasn’t raining but with that video, it felt like it. You picked up your glass of wine and took a small sip just as you finished chapter five.

Someone knocked on your front door loudly, causing you to spill your wine in shock. Only a few drops but if you let the stain sit, you were never going to get it out. Who could be knocking at your door this late at night? You set the wine and book down before you walked to the front door. You peered through the peephole but it was completely black which meant that whoever was on the other side was covering it.

“Who is it?”

“Bucky.”

You practically ripped the door off the hinges once you heard his voice. He was leaning against the door frame, blood all over his clothes. He was hurt and if the blood didn’t tell you that, his pained expression did. Bucky came crashing inside but you caught him before he could fall to the ground. He was a very heavy man but you did your best to hold him up. You didn’t care if blood got on your clothes.

“Bucky, are you okay? Shit, I should take you to a hospital.”

“No hospital,” he shook his head.

“Bucky…”

“I said no,” he said again, this time a lot firmer.

“Fine. Come on.” You dragged him to your bedroom and let him lie down while you prepared to take care of him. “Don’t move.”

You ran into your adjoining bathroom and grabbed whatever you could find that might help him before rejoining his side on the bed. When you did, he had his shirt off. Even with all the bruises and cuts, he still looked like an angel to you. An angel marred by humanity. An angel with black wings. You sat next to him on the bed and used gauze to start cleaning the blood off his skin.

“What happened to you?” He refused to answer you. It was always like this. This wasn’t the first time he’s gotten hurt like this. “Bucky, please tell me what happened to you.” You pressed the gauze against one of his wounds and he hissed in pain, causing you to wince as if you were the one who was hurt. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I’m sorry for showing up like this.”

The more you took care of him, the more tears welled in your eyes.

“You’re always getting hurt,” you sniffled. “Where do you go? What do you do?”

“Let’s just say some men I talked to didn’t like what I had to say. It got physical.”

“Where are they?”

“Right where I left them,” he chuckled.

Once his wounds have stopped bleeding, you carefully cleaned them with a damp rag and some antiseptic.

“Are you going to tell me what you do for work?”

“No,” he said quietly.

“Do you not trust me?”

“If you can believe it, you’re one of the few I trust right now.”

“Do you not love me?”

He reached up and caressed your cheek. You leaned into his touch and closed your eyes slightly.

“It’s because I love you that I can’t involve you in this.”

You bandaged his wounds as best as you could, and while you were throwing everything away, Bucky got comfortable in your bed. You joined his side and slipped underneath the covers. You carefully laid your head on his chest, the part that didn’t hurt.

“You know I worry about you, right?”

“I wish you wouldn’t. You don’t need to worry about someone like me.”

You smiled and kissed the tip of his nose delicately.

“I worry about the people I love.”

Bucky gripped your jaw gently and kissed you. Bucky was definitely keeping secrets from you but you decided to put that on the back burner for tonight. That night, all you needed was Bucky.

Now

You’re enjoying a quiet morning eating breakfast in the kitchen when your phone goes off. It’s a message from an unknown number. You look at the chef to see her engrossed in her duties, and you pick up your phone to see who could this message be from.

UNKNOWN: Hey, it’s Gio. I’m hoping I made a good enough impression for you not to forget me already. YOU: Hey, Gio! No, I didn't forget you. GIO: Good. Look, I wanted to check in on you after everything that happened at school with the shooting. You’ve been gone for a while YOU: Yeah, I needed a week to calm down after all that. I’m okay, though. GIO: Glad to hear it. Are you going to be in school today?

You bite your lip nervously. Bucky wouldn’t like it if you stepped one foot outside this mansion without him. Fuck that! He’s not the boss of you! He can’t keep you prisoner here. Go to school if you want to go to school.

YOU: Yes, I am. GIO: Cool! I look forward to seeing you in class :)

You finish breakfast before heading upstairs and getting dressed. There is a reason you’re in college. There’s a reason why you’re taking fashion design classes. You’re not going to let someone like Bucky take that away from you. After getting dressed in something warm, you head downstairs. You’re looking at your phone so you don’t see Bucky before you run right into him. He grips your shoulders to prevent you from falling, and you look up at him in shock.

“Sorry.”

“Where are you going?”

“School.”

“You can do school here.”

“Not for the classes I need to be in person for, and since you wrecked my car, I need to leave now to catch the bus.”

Bucky’s jaw ticks in anger or annoyance, you’re not sure. You can practically see the cogs turning in his head. He rolls his eyes at losing his inner battle.

“Fine, I’ll take you to school.”

“With no bodyguards. I don’t need Sam and Steve lingering in the classes like weirdos.”

“Only if you promise not to run.”

“I thought you liked chasing me.” Bucky smirks slightly but decides against saying anything else. You finally have time to see what he’s wearing and your mouth waters when you see his very loose gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips. No! Bad girl! Don’t think about that! But he’s so delicious and you really do miss the way his body feels against yours. Don’t make me smack you. Fine. “I’ll wait by the car while you get dressed. There’s no way you’re leaving the house wearing that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he smirks.

God damn it. He leaves while you wait by one of his cars. You’re not sure which one he is going to take since he has about a million of them inside his garage. He joins your side wearing a three-piece suit. He must be going to the office today. You’re not sure if you prefer him wearing sweatpants or in a suit. Sweatpants. Definitely sweatpants. No shirt. Obviously.

He picks the Range Rover and you climb into the passenger seat. He never lets you drive now or when you two were dating. He often claims that you always have been and will always be his Passenger Princess. Not that you minded much because it gave you the opportunity to stare at him. Ahem. Admire. Apparently, there’s a difference.

“Lose something over here, pisică?” he smirks. You snap your eyes forward and pretend like you aren’t admiring how good he looks. You look in the mirror and see another black SUV trailing behind that no doubt has Steve and Sam in. “What are you going to school for?”

This is a safe topic to discuss and you relax in your seat.

“Fashion design. I really want to start my own line of clothes.”

“I remember you were saying something about that,” he smiles.

“Well, I only just started college. It’s a few classes while I get my general out of the way, but I like it.”

Bucky pulls up to the side of the campus where your first class is. You’re not sure what to say. You look at your phone to see you have forty-five minutes before your class starts.

“Thanks for the ride.”

You’re about to get out when he stops you.

“What time does your last class end?”

“Three.”

“I’ll pick you up then. Right here.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

You leave the car but the feeling of his eyes on you doesn’t go away. You’re about half a football field away from him when you turn and look at him. He’s still staring at you so you scurry off with a blush. He chuckles and pulls away from the school, deciding to trust you that you’ll be there when he picks you up. Your first two classes go by without a hitch and your third class is your favorite--Fashion Design 102. The classroom is set up like a lab with desks that can only fit two people. The walls are covered with fabrics, the ground splattered with paint, and a bunch of mannequins are scattered about. Gio sits at one of the long tables and smiles when he sees you.

“Rayne!”

Oh, yeah. You told him your name is Rayne. Since Bucky found you, there’s no reason to keep that secrecy. You take a seat next to him and blush slightly from embarrassment.

“My name isn’t Rayne. It’s Y/N. I was going through stuff when I told you my name, but I’m okay now. I’m sorry I lied to you.”

Gio chuckles in amusement. “It’s no problem. I know a bit about running from your past. I get it. I like Y/N better, anyway.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah. I needed time to process what happened.”

“Again, I get it,” he nods.

There’s no way you’re going to tell him that what happened was because of you. All you want to do is focus on your design class. Gio is interested in designing men’s clothing which you know he will be good at. All his sketches are amazing. The professor has people teaming up to create an article of clothing so naturally, Gio asked you to be his. Before you can start designing, you have to have sketches.

Gio wanted to make a suit while you wanted to make a dress. You two compromised and you’re making a dress. He’s picking the color and fabric while you two create the design.

“So, what’s your deal?”

“With what?” you chuckle and continue sketching.

“You’re gorgeous, there’s not secret about that. You’re funny and very smart. Last I remember, you don’t have a boyfriend, right?”

Bucky immediately comes to mind. If you were to tell Gio no, he’d kill him for sure. Technically, you never broke up with him. You just ran away. Gio sees the look on your face and chuckles in amusement.

“It’s complicated, I guess. Like I said to you before, it wouldn’t be fair to you if I couldn’t give you my all, you know?”

“Yeah, I do. Friends?”

“Yeah, friends,” you smile.

The class ends once you finish the design on sketches. You only have three classes but the fashion one takes two hours. Bucky pulls up to the meeting spot exactly at three and looks for you. He sees you walking with a man taller than you. He looks younger than Bucky and leaner than him. He still has muscle but not nearly as enough as Bucky have. You’re leaning into his side with a smile on your face, laughing at something he said. Bucky tries to let it slide that he’s standing so close to you but when Gio pulls you into a hug, his blood boils. He honks his horn and you jump away from him in shock.

“Sorry, that’s me. I gotta go,” you chuckle nervously. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You walk over to Bucky’s car and get in the passenger’s seat with a frown on your face. Bucky has a grumpy smile on his face and you roll your eyes as you put your seatbelt on.

“Don’t give me that look. I’m allowed to have friends.”

“Friends don’t touch your ass when they hug you.”

“He wasn’t.”

“Do you remember what happened to that man in my meeting?”

He doesn’t have to say the words for you to know what he means. You whip your head toward him and glare as hard as you can.

“Don’t you fucking dare. If you do, I will leave again, you’ll never find me, and we’re done.”

Bucky is silent for twenty minutes before smirking.

“Are you saying we’re not done now?”

You can’t stay mad at him. You want to be pissed at him but then he says shit like that and makes you fall for him even more. The rest of the car ride is spent in silence except for the light stream of music coming from the speakers. Bucky pulls up to his mansion and escorts you inside. The first thing you see is a trail of rose petals leading from the door to the kitchen. You gasp when you see the table set for a romantic dinner for two. Candles, flowers, hot food, and alcohol.

“What is this?”

“I figure I owed you dinner after everything.”

“You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I know. I wanted to.” Your stomach flips upside down and your heart swells in happiness. “Plus, I slaved over the stove all day for you.”

As happy as you are, you can’t help but feel sad. Bucky have proven he can be this sweet and good man, so why the hell is he in the most dangerous business? He’s messing with your head and you’re not sure what to think. Don’t think. Just be in the moment. All your problems will still be there tomorrow morning. Right. Be in the moment.

That’s what you do, and you and Bucky have a nice dinner where your problems slide into tomorrow and nothing else matters but you two. After dinner, Bucky walks to you to your room as if he’s walking you home after a date. You know what happens after a date. Bucky did the same thing after every one of yours, so you’re not sure what’s going to happen here. You stop outside your room and look into Bucky’s blue eyes.

“Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.”

Bucky reaches out and cups your jaw. You part your lips and he runs his thumb along your bottom lip. He cups the other side of your jaw and pulls you toward him. He kisses you desperately and grips your hair to keep you in place. It’s been so long since you’ve felt his lips on yours and it’s making your knees weak. He slides his tongue into your mouth to meet yours and licks every inch he can. By the time he is pulling away, your brain is numb.

“Goodnight.”

“Night,” you mumble.

It doesn’t matter how hard you try to stay away from him. You can’t.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[ntls-24722]

FNAF FANARTISTS!!!!!!!!!!! DJ MUSIC MAN AND MUSIC MAN ARE NOT THE SAME CHARACTER

many times, when fnaf artists are requested to draw music man/dj music man, they get them mixed up!!! which is reasonable!!!!!!! we know almost nothing about them, google mixes them up constantly, and a certain matpat meme has only made it more confusing!

They all have very similar faces, but they've got some staggering differences!!!!! so im detailing them and also giving some trivia/our known knowledge of them!!!

MUSIC MAN (FFPS)

The OG music man! He made his debut in FFPS/Pizzeria Simulator and makes another appearance in UCN. He is!!! weird!!

He's not built like a spider-centaur, he's literally like a minecraft creeper with a torso and a bunch of legs at the bottom.

He's got a design unlike any other fnaf animatronic, even deviating from the style of the human ones, though this is speculated to be because he seems to have design elements from enemies and bosses from Scott Cawthon's other game, The Desolate Hope.

He's described to have "something undesirable" inside him (it's never explained what) and in the Posh Pizzeria group he is the only one to have a liability risk at times - in UCN he's the only one of the posh pizzeria that can and will kill you. Also, weirdly enough, in UCN he's the only animatronic other than the original Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy to use the FNAF 1 scream. Despite being called Music Man, his gimmick in UCN is that he hates noise and you need to keep it down for him to not kill you - music also counts as noise for him.

He's voiced by Matthew Curtis, who also voices nightmare Balloon Boy, here are his lines for UCN!

DJ MUSIC MAN (Security Breach)

DJ Music Man! (Always abbreviated to DJMM in-game)

If MM is built like a creeper then DJ is built like a pig - he's Horizontal and looks more spider-y

There's even less info on him, but here goes:

He's a party host who makes up all of his music on the spot, but in between sessions he cleans around the Plex! The reason why he goes nuts and tries to kill Gregory is that he has an experimental but prohibited bouncer mode that was turned on, which is why he's chill afterwards. He also doesn't speak, unlike Music Man.

BONUS: WINDUP MUSIC MAN (Security Breach)

Windup Music Man!

Designwise they're almost identical to MM, but they look like they got microwaved and scraped across asphalt at mach 10. And also got a windup key stuck in their back. And TINY

Ingame they're described to be a prototype of Music Man that escaped the little museum part of the Plex, and that's all we really know. Other than that, their dynamic together is kind of comparable to a bunch of ants working together. They also JUMP and can be seen conversing/playing together.

ALSO: Those cymbals are not legs, they just have a really weird stance similar to actual tarantulas.

There's technically 394 Windup Music Men because the game randomly generates them from a collection of fucked up parts.

There's no height indication for Music Man but here's one for the security breach cast by @/musings-of-astromonster

happy music man-ing

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 21 || The After Hours

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, fluff, a tinge of angst, and sexual tension.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.1k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——"I DON'T UNDERSTAND," YOU murmured to the albino man whose arms you're comfortably carried in.

What the hell does he mean by when you call he comes running? You didn't call him... right? Wait, fuck, you don't even remember. Was it really Geto's voice you heard over the phone?

Gojo slowly walks with you in his grasp toward his car, "You called me... Well, I know you probably meant to call Suguru but uh, you called me, sweetheart." He explains.

A pouty expression takes over your features as you grumble out a response to him, "Why didn't you... s-say anything, asshole."

He shrugs, "Cause' Suguru's asleep and I didn't want his half-woken brain to come out here and get you, who's completely wasted. So, it's a good thing you accidentally called me anyway. Plus, I missed-," He stops as he looks at your face.

Your eyes closed and you'd fallen asleep again. Gojo opens his mouth to finish what he is saying but instead sighs and focuses his gaze on where he's walking.

Carefully, the male works his passenger car door open and places you inside. Gojo is overly cautious while he seats you comfortably. Your head had leaned into a visibly unbearable position and he had to be light with his touches to fix you properly.

The pads of his fingers are soft against your face and he's gentle with the way he handles your head. When he's done making sure you don't look uncomfortable and finishes buckling you in, his eyes pause on your pretty resting features.

Even though the beauty Gojo sees in your face, he can't help but notice the dried tear streaks running down your cheeks. He wonders when you cried and why. Was it because of him? Again? The thought alone makes his heart ache.

Gojo shuts his eyes and leans his forehead to yours, resting against you lightly, "I'm sorry..." He whispers to you, despite the fact that you're asleep.

After another second, Gojo removes himself from your space and shuts his car door softly. He then makes it into the driver's seat and he's quick to start his car and drive off.

The ride is slow and Gojo tries to make it as smooth as possible so that he doesn't wake you up. There were a few times when you moved and let out a little groan, each time prompting a concerned gaze from the man in the diver's seat.

Each minute that passes, Gojo spends it thinking about what you told him over the phone. He hates to see you struggling like this, wishing he could go back and maybe do something different but knowing the outcome would've been bad either way.

By the time he gets to your apartment, it's even later into the night and Gojo spends the entire time with you being as careful as possible. He knows you didn't want to see him but he needed to make sure you got home safely.

So, the man carried you all the way to your apartment door and even let himself inside. You found this out a while ago when you went through your messages but apparently, Shoko gave Gojo a spare key to the apartment.

You thought it was weird of your roommate to do so without talking to you about it but she eventually explained to you that she's asked Gojo to go to your apartment more times than she can count and it was frustrating giving him her keys every time.

That, and she secretly felt like him having access to the apartment would help the two of you get together. Of course, Shoko is still ignorant of what's going on between you and Gojo but neither of you has plans on changing that.

After all, her giving him spare keys is beneficial to you in a situation like this.

Gojo moves into your apartment with you in his arms, his footsteps quiet. When he entered, everything was dark and he noticed Shoko's room door was closed. He figured she was asleep since the space beneath her room door showed no signs of lighting and plus, it was pretty late.

You shift around in Gojo's arms while he carries you into your room. The male carefully placed you down on your bed and he wanted to make sure you were comfortable in your sleep but was nervous to do so.

Gojo drags his gaze up and down the obvious discomfort the dress you're wearing brings you and he so desperately wants to change you. With a sigh, he glances around your room, searching for a t-shirt he can toss over you but spotting none.

The man knows you probably won't like it but, he stands up and strips his upper half, removing the white sweater he was wearing and moving to put it onto your body, leaving him in a simple t-shirt he had underneath.

The sweater went over your dress after which, Gojo felt around your back, careful not to touch you directly, and unzipped your dress. He didn't want to lay eyes on your body while you were asleep so, the male worked your dress off you and down your legs with his sweater blocking his eyesight from seeing anything.

On you, his sweater went down to the beginning of your thighs, looking like a dress in itself on your smaller frame. Gojo had long since worked your heels off, having neatly placed them somewhere in your room and now he was trying to tuck you into your bed.

After that, he left your room for only a moment to grab medicine for the painful hangover he knows you're going to have when you wake up. Returning to you swiftly, he puts all the necessary items on your nightstand and sighs.

Soft snores left you, prompting his eyes to fall on your face for the millionth time that night. Gojo tilts his head as he looks at your face, taking in all of your features. He missed having the mere luxury of just looking at you.

You're so beautiful in his eyes that just staring at you makes him loathe himself for the terrible shit he's putting you through.

When the long moment of appreciation comes to an end, Gojo caresses the side of your face with the back of his hand as if to say bye, before leaning up and turning away.

What he doesn't expect is for a delicate set of fingers to wrap around his wrist and stop him from going anywhere. Before he can even turn around to look at you, you whisper out a sleepy and still drunken, "S-Stay."

All it takes is that one word of yours for the male to stop every movement. Hell, he thinks he stops breathing for a second. Turning his face around to look at you, he spots your eyes just barely open and your hand holding him.

Gojo swallows, "Sweets, as much as I want to... you don't really-"

"Satoru," You whisper.

The way you say his name so suddenly after not referring to him as such for what felt like an eternity makes his heart throb violently in his chest. Gojo's whole facial expression weakens, his body and mind completely incapacitated under the sound of your voice and the feeling of your touch.

Your eyes flick up to him and he can tell that you're clearly drunk.

"Y-Yes?" Gojo whispers back.

"Stay." You command.

He feels so utterly helpless under your gaze. What is he supposed to say when you look at him so longingly? Holding onto his wrist in a way that makes him feel like if he leaves, he'll only leave you sadder.

He glances off to the side, "You're just gonna be upset when you sober up. I can't-"

"Toru please." You murmur, suddenly frowning, "I... d-don't wanna be alone."

Gojo's eyes shut and he grits his teeth, "Fucking hell... O-Okay, fuck, fine w-whatever you want." He stammers out, physically unable to deny your requests. "Just... don't curse me out when you're sober, please."

You let his wrist go and smiled cheekily, "No promisessss."

Gojo walks around to the other side of your bed and slowly lays down beside you. Even drunk, you could tell he was nervous doing so-- he already knew what was going to happen when your drunken state faded away. At first, the man lays down as far as possible, making you flip your body around to face him.

He clears his throat, "Is this okay?"

The guy was on the other side of your bed, clearly trying to keep his distance. You giggle, "No, stupid... Come hold me," You whisper.

"H-Hold you?" Gojo chokes out.

You sigh heavily, "At least until-," You yawn, "...I fall back asleep. T-Then you can leave, if you want."

With a slight nod, Gojo just barely slides closer to you. One of his large arms goes over your side and you immediately reciprocate, making his heart skip a beat at the way your small hand is felt on his back. The two of you were basically hugging each other and the state of his heart worsens as you snuggle in closer to him.

"C'mon, this is unfair..." Gojo sighs heavily.

You continue hugging him anyway, comforting your head into his chest. "I know," You whisper in response.

The two of you then get quiet for a while. Your breathing gets softer and softer against his chest and every brush of air against his skin makes it harder for him to calm his rapidly beating heart. It's been so long since you'd been close to him like this that he doesn't know how to handle it.

Gojo feels almost dizzy by your warm body against his. It's not turning him on or anything but his heart feels so odd in his chest.

Suddenly, your head shifts and you look up a him, "Gojo..." You whisper.

And he misses the way you say his first name already, "Hm?"

"You're so cruel to me." You babble out. Not only was your intoxication beginning to take over your mind, but fatigue was weighing in on you as well.

He sighs shakily, "Am I?"

"Very..." You start pouting, "He made me really happy, y'know..."

Gojo blinks in confusion.

"Choso," You clarify. Gloss begins to lay over your eyes and you quickly grow saddened, "...He won't even talk to me now."

"Did you... tell him about the list or something?"

"No, idiot." You fire back. "He wanted to date me but... I o-obviously couldn't say yes because of you."

Guilt thrums throughout Gojo's body, "I'm sorry." He apologizes sincerely.

You sigh heavily, "Y'know... if you were really sorry, you'd delete that video of me and let me go..."

"I can't." Gojo replies, squeezing his eyes shut, "I really can't."

"Why?" You question, scoffing slightly, "After all this time, can you at least tell me why it has to be me?"

He silences himself in thought. There are so many ways he could go about answering such a question but the possibilities of how you may react are endless. Plus, you're drunk and if he's going to admit or explain anything to you, it'll be while you're sober.

"Because..." Gojo's voice gets so quiet that you almost don't catch what he says, "...I don't have any other choice."

What does he mean by that? You have no idea. It's just another one of Gojo's stupid explanations that make no sense whatsoever, leading you to only be annoyed with him for the nth time since you've known him. You're negative emotions for this male run deeper than anything else.

Even so, there's this underlying emotion you feel when he talks to you or looks at you. And you absolutely despise the way it affects you because the man simply plagues your heart, vexing you with his toxic and fucked up realities of how he wants things to go.

You find yourself lulled into it all nonetheless. Whether it be by choice or not, something about Gojo just draws you to him in so many ways.

You hate the way he looks at you as if your very existence is what he still breathes for. The way he talks to you like each second without your presence is steadily crushing his will to live. How he holds you so gently yet firmly as if he dreads the instant he has to let you go.

And more than anything, you hate the combination of all that being tied to his stupidly handsome face that makes you nervous at every second, even though you try to hide it. Then there are the memories of the very few good times you spent with him.

Somewhere deep, deep, deep down inside-- you'd give anything to go back to that morning you woke up in his arms.

Gojo Satoru may be no Kamo Choso but even so, both men hold some deep and special, whether it be good or bad, place in your heart.

You shake your head in disbelief, "...I hate you."

Gojo swallows down your words, "That uh... That makes four."

"What?" You scoff confusedly.

"That's the fourth time you've said those words to me-- the fourth time you've claimed to hate me." Gojo points out, his voice so clearly sorrowful, "I wish you didn't..."

Your brows bush together, "...Wish I didn't say it or...?"

"No, I wish you didn't have to hate me." He says, shutting his eyes again and sucking in a deep breath, "B-But... it's uh, It's okay. I can live with you hating me."

You roll your eyes and open your mouth to say something but he cuts you off unintentionally by continuing.

"It's odd though," Gojo whispers, his fingers toying with the back of the sweater you're wearing. "Why would you want to be in my arms if you hate me so much?"

You groan, "Cause'...." The reasoning takes a second to come out, almost as if you didn't want to admit such a thing out loud, "I don't... I don't wanna be alone." You murmur, your voice wavering a little before your grasp on him grows tighter.

Gojo's heart is pounding so ridiculously hard against his chest when he feels you cling to him so desperately. It took control of every muscle and vein in his body not to squeeze you back just as hard to let you know that he'd never leave unless you told him to.

A soft, heart-wrenching little chuckle leaves his lips, "Me neither, sweetheart."

For a second time, silence wraps around the two of you. The only noise in the air now was the sound of you both breathing faintly. You don't know why but, even though you hate him, you couldn't deny the deep sense of comfort and understanding you felt within his arms.

Your heart was heavy in your chest, feelings for Choso having a dangerous steel grip on you. If you were to complete this list; you needed to put your feelings for that man aside. Only temporarily though. By all means, no matter what it took, you'd be running back to Choso the very second you were freed to do so.

Unconsciousness creeps up on you and unexpectedly wraps your mind up in a warm little blanket, swaying you into relaxation and tugging you into a state of slumber. Meanwhile, Gojo lay awake, unable to fall asleep with the ounces of guilt, regret, and disappointment in himself that cascaded over him.

Though it took a while, he waited until it seemed like you were asleep and then tried to ease his way out. Sadly, through your sleep, you only clung onto his body more-- silently begging him not to go anywhere.

With a sigh, he ends up staying.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

A few hours later, you wake up because of a pounding headache. It was still dark and your eyes just barely opened to gather your surroundings. Finally, you were sober.

Your mind was all groggy and you couldn't remember much after Gojo came and picked you up. It was in fragments and pieces that you recalled talking to him in your sleep and begging him to stay with you.

Yet, when you woke up and opened your eyes, you were met with the dim sight of your bedroom door closed and no feeling of warmth or body heat around you. It annoyed you that Gojo left even though you told him to stay.

Being alone was the one thing you wanted to avoid.

Even hours after your intoxication had worn off, the worst part about it was that as you propped your side up using your elbow and reached for the meds on your nightstand, a wave of arousal abruptly coursed through you. Perhaps it was because of your interactions with Naoya's piss-poor skills at pleasing you-- having left you unsatisfied all this time.

While you swallowed down a pill to kill your headache, you planned on possibly going to lock your door and just rub it out. You hate waking up horny like this and the headache doesn't help either. If only Naoya had known how to use his dick properly, you would've been fine right now.

With a sigh, you move to sit up and suddenly spot a large build lying on the other side of your bed. You almost let out a yelp in surprise until you realized that it was Gojo and that the man never left you.

Your head tips to the side while you eye his resting frame. His back is to you and you figure the male moved away from you so that you wouldn't curse him out first thing in the morning. You groan slightly at the recollection of you telling him to stay.

The sound of your light groan is enough to stir the man awake. He begins to turn around and your heart jumps for some reason when you meet eyes with him.

Gojo rubs his eyelids slightly, trying to adjust to the darkness of the room. "Well... aren't you a sight for sore eyes..." He hums, his deep morning voice only worsening that arousal of yours.

You swallow, "Don't start."

"Mmmmgh.." He hums tiredly, the sound vibrating against his throat and weirdly making your state worse. He then sighs and shuts his eyes, "Don't start what, sweetheart?"

Gojo's voice is way too damn sexy for you to have a proper conversation and, of course, the damn pet name never helps.

You ignore his question, "You need to leave."

"Make me," Gojo says playfully. You frown and his eyes suddenly open, "Come over here 'nd force me out." He murmurs, voice still low but clearly playful.

You roll your eyes at the male, "I'm not joking."

He smirks seductively, the sight unintentionally attractive to you, "Don't roll your eyes at me."

"Why not?" You scoff sassily.

"Haven't done anythin' to make 'em roll, that's why," Gojo replies, the suggestiveness of his words feeding your hormones.

You push the blanket down and away from your legs, revealing your warm skin to the comforting air of your room. "You plan on doing something to make em' roll?" You reply.

Gojo's body stills in reaction to your words. His eyes close again and you watch him bite his bottom lip, "Want me to?"

You shouldn't. At all. You absolutely should not be needy for Gojo of all people.

You decide not to answer him and simply let out a yawn. He chuckles, the sound foolishly sexy. God, everything about this man is turning you on right now and you absolutely hate it.

"I can't stand you," You end up saying.

"Come sit on me then." Gojo fires back.

A throb is felt in between your legs and you grit your teeth. You didn't like the way he challenged you, almost as if you wouldn't really do so. It was one hundred percent because of your hormones that move, shifting to hold yourself up on your knees and shuffling over to the man.

Gojo's eyes shoot open and he chokes as you actually toss one leg over his and straddle him. His hands scramble a bit to lift himself up but you put your palm to his chest and push him right back down aggressively.

"Don't move now, you're the one who told me to come sit on you." You utter in a sultry tone.

He swallows as he stares up at you, never expecting you to be so bold. "Fuuck... it's too early for this y'know... Fuckin' sun isn't even up yet," He groans, his voice deeper than ever.

You lean forward, causing your crotch to rub over his, "Too early for what?"

"For you to be gettin' on top of me like this," Gojo sighs almost panicked, "I know I told you to but-," You wiggle into him a bit to comfort yourself, "F-Fuck, I didn't think you'd actually..."

Your torso tips forward and you press your fingertips into his chest, "Actually get on top of you?" You finish Gojo's statement questionably.

He nods, "Yeah."

The ache in between your legs is slowly becoming unbearable so, you roll your hips forward, your clothed cunt dragging against Gojo's cock and making his brows furrow and his jaw drop slightly.

"H-Hah, woah, w-wait, what're you doing?" Gojo questions. Those large hands of his go to your thighs and he squeezes your skin slightly.

You tilt your head innocently, "Trying to finish what that asshole Naoya left of me last nigh..." Your voice tails a bit as your roll your hips back and feel Gojo gently hump himself up into you, "Hah, n-night..." You manage out breathly.

Gojo smirks but his breathing is now heavy. He remembers you telling him that you had bad sex with Naoya but you never told him what exactly you meant by that. "What he left of-," He swallows hard, "You?"

Your head nods, "Mhm. Fucker didn't even make me cum," You explain, pouting frustratedly as you recall.

The male below you blinks, "What?"

"He didn't make me cum," You repeat while slowly grinding over the steady rise of Gojo's cock. There's almost nothing more stimulating than feeling as a male grows hard beneath you.

It's so warm and hard how his dick springs to life within the confines of his boxers. All because of a little bit of dry humping.

"You want me to make up for him?" Gojo's quick to offer.

You smile lustfully and drag your hips in a slow circle over his erection, "No... I can uh, shit... can get of jus' fine like this..." You tell him.

A wet spot forms on the male's boxers as precum seeps out the tip of his cock at the thought of watching you get yourself off by dry humping.

Gojo slips his hands up and under the sweater you're wearing, his grasp going to your hips and guiding you through your movements. "You sure?" He breathes out, "You and I both know I can satisfy you just fine."

You chuckle and then catch him off guard by grabbing his hands and prying them away from your body. Gojo's eyes widen when you pin his hands up above his head, your gaze meeting his while you continue grinding on him.

"I know you can but..." You tilt your head tauntingly, "You haven't earned that kinda thing back."

"W-What?" He stammers, his face flushing as your fingers squeeze around his wrists.

The way you're looking at him alone is enough to drive him over the edge but he manages to control himself. Your voice lowers, "You haven't earned the right to fuck me Gojo." Your words make him blink in disbelief, "Not after all the shit you put me through."

"But..."

"There is no but." You say, leaning down to him and tipping your head down to his neck. Carefully, you press your lips into him, "Right now, the only thing you've earned is the pleasure of being used by me."

Your words go straight to his cock and Gojo gulps. Is he hearing you correctly right now? Did you just say you were going to use his body for your pleasure? Is he even okay with that?? Of course he is. Gojo physically couldn't say no to such a thing.

Your lips push into the skin right under his jaw and Gojo groans lowly. Your cunt flutters around nothing at the sound and you grin. Lifting yourself, you move to hover your face over his, peering down into his eyes.

"S'that okay?" You whisper, "Can I do that?"

"I-I..." Gojo is at a complete loss for words right now.

You inch closer to him and your lips graze his own, "Can I use you, Gojo?"

He swore he almost came at the imagination of you doing so.

Everything you said was exactly what you wanted too. You really didn't believe that Gojo deserved to have sex with you without some form of punishment due to all the things he's putting you through. Hell, the only reason you're about to do anything with him is because of how horny you woke up.

Or at least, that's what you're going to blame it on anyway.

"Of course you can, sweets." Gojo utters, his eyes low, "I'm all yours, every part of me, it's all yours." He breathes out.

You smile at his words, "Yeah?"

"M-Mhm... You wanna selfishly use me to make yourself feel good," He shrugs, "By all means." Gojo encourages you, "Please do actually. I told you I'd make things up to you right?"

You almost forgot about that but, he's right. He did promise such a thing so, you nod in response.

"Consider this a part of it," The male explains, "I'm nothing more than a tool for you."

You smile at his words, butterflies fluttering through your stomach in reaction. You wondered if he was only speaking like this in terms of sex or if he meant in general but, based on the needy look in his eyes and the redness of his cheeks, he meant it in every aspect.

Slowly, your eyes shut and you press your lips into his for the first time in what feels like forever. The immediate whine that leaves Gojo is so utterly pathetic and desperate, the fact that you're still pinning his hands down acts as torture for the male.

Given that his favorite thing to do is touch you, to be deprived of that during sex is about to be one of the most difficult things he's ever experienced. But, for you; Gojo would do anything to fix everything he's broken between the two of you.

Your lips part over his and he's eager to accept your tongue sliding into his mouth, his hands simply twitching to feel your body as the two of you make out. It's slow and sloppy, wet tongues slipping over one another while soft and quiet moist sounds of your kissing fill the air.

It ends up being you that folds to the urge to touch and feel him, sliding your hands down from his writs, along his muscular arms, to his shoulders, and then to his neck and face-- growing more aggressive with your kissing and feelings his smooth skin beneath your fingers.

Gojo kept his arms up in place as you lifted from his mouth, quickly whispering his desires to you, "Can I touch you?" He hushes out before you kiss him again.

Feeling ignored, Gojo is struggling to control himself. Nothing is stopping him from moving his hands to your waist and flipping the two of you over, quickly grinding into that warm cunt of yours and pleasing you like he knows you deserve. Yet, he remains still anyway.

You tug on his lower lip for a moment before releasing it, "You wanna touch me?"

"Please," He begs, "A-At least while you're kissing me..."

"Alright," You agree, "But when I tell you to take your hands off me, you better."

Gojo nods understandingly and obediently, quickly flying his hands down to your waist and gripping onto you as your lips connect again. The kiss only grows sloppier, your lips sliding over his and his tongue working its way up into your mouth, leading you to hum against him.

Deep down inside, you can't lie... you did miss making out with Gojo. Nobody kisses you like he does. This man kisses you as if it's his dying act.

His hands go down to your hips and he pushes himself up a bit while pulling you down onto his crotch again. Through your messy kissing, Gojo starts moving with you to sit himself up with you in his lap, your lips hardly ever disconnecting from one another.

Now that you're both sat up, it makes kissing each other and dry humping at the same time a whole lot more comfortable and easy.

Through the softness of your lips, Gojo's able to whisper a thing out to you every now and then, "F-Fuck... I missed you s'much..." He mumbles into you.

His arms wrap around your waist while yours go around his neck, both of you hungrily making out with each other.

When you pull away for a second to breathe, you respond. "Did you?" You murmur.

Gojo nods eagerly, "You know I did."

You smile slightly as you kiss him again. Both of you just barely conversate in between pecks, "...Prove it," You utter.

The sound of his lips smacking over yours is heard, "O-Okay... I will, however-, mh... however you want." He speaks between your constant pecks and gentle sucks over his lower lip, "T-Told you... I'm all yours."

You finally pry away from his mouth completely, a string of saliva left between your lips and his. "Alright then... can I..." You bite your lower lip for a moment, trying to debate if you really want to go through with the idea in your head.

Gojo looks absolutely dazed right now from all your kissing-- having almost blown his load in his pants from making out with you. His cheeks are completely red, his lips parted with heavy pants leaving him, and his eyes low as they look at you.

"Yes," Gojo blurts out, "Whatever it is, you can do it to me." He agrees.

The man appears as though he was fucked out and all you've done is swap spit with him.

You stare at him innocently before giving him one last peck and then moving to his ear, "Can I tie you up?"

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎

NANAMI KENTO ☐

??? SUKUNA ☐

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