#he's experienced and accomplished so much in his life

[inkmonster21]

I Don’t Play Anymore

Hwang In-Ho / Frontman x Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

As the daughter of the American Frontman, your life takes an unexpected turn as you accompany him to South Korea, to witness the 33rd Annual Squid Games. Being a spectator to the violent events unfolds, and you find yourself unexpectedly connecting with the Frontman.

01. Red Light, Green Light

The American Frontman had traveled to Korea with a purpose: to observe and learn from the infamous underground games. He wanted to gather as much knowledge as possible, so he could translate those elements into the games hosted in the United States.

He was a sharp, cunning individual, drawn to the spectacle of carefully crafted games that challenged people's wits, morals, and will to survive.

The American game maker, accompanied by a small security team and his daughter, boarded the boat that would take them to the remote island where the games took place.

You were well-acquainted with the concept of these games, having experienced firsthand the high-stakes thrill of your father's smaller-scale games. These events, limited to no more than 50 players, unfolded at a rapid pace, often concluding in just one day.

The games held a dark legacy within your family, a tradition passed down through generations. You had participated in the games four years ago, and emerged victorious, a title that filled you with both accomplishment and guilt. Your father, the current game master, was proud, carrying on a legacy started by your great-grandfather. The competition held its price - the cost of taking lives - but the thrill and satisfaction of victory outweighed any lingering doubts and remorse.

You were accompanying your father on a journey to the annual games held in Korea. This trip was more than just a spectator's view; it was an opportunity for both of you to learn and gain insights from the complex and ruthless games that unfolded on foreign soil.

The boat swayed and rocked as it navigated through the waves, and you gripped the railing tightly, a mix of annoyance and slight unease present on your face. You had never been fond of boats, finding the continuous motion and the vast expanse of water beneath you unsettling.

Frustration tinged your voice as you raised your phone, attempting to catch a single bar of service. The signal was weak, barely catching the faintest hint of a connection.

"I can't even get a single bar out here!" you exclaimed, the lack of reception leaving you disconnected from the world.

Your father, observant as always, shifted his gaze towards you. His expression was serious, and he spoke calmly.

"Do you really need it anyway?"

He raised an eyebrow, subtly questioning the need for constant connection and the distraction that technology often provided.

You nodded in response, your response coming out in a confident tone.

"Um, yes. Anderson said he was going to send the address of his friends' club. There's supposed to be a big party, and I can not miss that."

Your father's face remained impassive, but a small flicker of amusement flashed in his eyes at your eagerness for the party.

Your father chuckled, “maybe you can make some new friends, tell them about the good opportunities we could offer,” a hint of amusement in his tone. However, your reply, about friendships being cut short by the nature of your upbringing, carried a touch of bitterness.

"Yeah, and then have them killed. I swear I haven't had a friendship longer than 2 years because of you assholes." Your voice held a mix of frustration and resignation.

Your father's response was curt, and he reprimanded you harshly. "That 'asshole' paid for the Louboutins you're standing in," he scoffed. "I'd fix that attitude before we arrive. You don't want to make me look bad here, (y/n)."

His words held a mix of authority and warning, subtly reminding you to maintain decorum and uphold the family reputation.

As the boat neared the island, your father's head of security handed him a black crystal mask, shaped with the features of the mythical jackalope, adorned with its own set of black shimmering jeweled horns. The mask was a masterpiece, exuding a sense of power and exclusivity.

Your father's head of security handed you a smaller, more delicate mask, its design resembling an innocent rabbit compared to the intimidating jackalope. You looked at the mask with a hint of disdain, a scoff escaping your lips.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" you asked, your tone tinged with a mix of stubbornness and skepticism. Your father's tone was terse, his words simple yet commanding. "Wear it," he instructed firmly, his gaze unwavering. Without hesitation, he placed the black jeweled mask onto his own face, the mask accentuating his features in an eerie way.

With a reluctant sigh, you followed suit, slipping on the elegant black jeweled rabbit mask. The coolness of the metal against your skin sent a faint shiver down your spine. The intricate design of the mask felt both elegant and concealing, a subtle reminder of the event you were about to become a part of.

The black masks placed on the security men's faces only heightened your sense of unease, solidifying the gravity of the situation. The cold realization hit you like a wave, and you couldn't help but feel a sudden surge of regret. A whisper of doubt echoed in your mind, questioning whether staying home would have been a wiser choice. The island loomed ahead, a silent harbinger of the events yet to unfold.

As the boat neared the island, your father's tone held a tinge of seriousness, his words a stern command.

"I want you to pay attention to these games," he stated firmly, his gaze firm. "Observe the players, observe their responses, and see what makes the mind break." The stern words of your father echoed in your mind, his authority unwavering. "Yes, father," you responded, a mix of obedience and reluctance in your voice.

The boat docked, the path ahead uneven and treacherous, especially given the choice of footwear you wore. The path was clearly unwalked and unsteady, making it difficult for you to navigate properly. As you cautiously made your way along the path, you stumbled upon a seemingly invisible hatch door, hidden from prying eyes. The head of security stepped forward, punching in a code and signaling to a hidden camera. The hatch door slowly creaked open, revealing a descending staircase.

As the hatch door opened, you were met with the sight of a man dressed in a striking pink jumpsuit, his mask featuring a distinctive square shape. Behind him were an entourage of four pink-masked guards, each adorning black masks lined with triangles. The contrast of the bright colours and masks against the dim lighting of the stairwell created an atmosphere of surrealism and foreboding.

The head of security's words cut through the silence, his tone low and guarded.

"These are the American game makers," he spoke, his voice holding a mix of neutrality and wariness. "They've been anticipating their arrival."

The man in the pink jumpsuit responded in a simple, yet eerie tone that sent a chill down your spine.

"Yes," he said simply, "please, follow me." Without a moment's hesitation, he turned and began walking down the dimly lit stairwell, his guards falling into a precise formation behind him.

As you followed the pink-suited man up the staircase, you couldn't help but observe the surroundings, taking in the bright colors and cheerful décor. The room was intentionally designed to appear playful and pleasant, a stark contrast to the darkness and mystery that shrouded the truth.

You were led towards a pair of imposing double doors, their golden handles gleaming beneath the lights. The pink-suited man stepped inside, his voice carrying a respect and formality. "Sir, the American game maker has arrived," he announced, his words carrying a weight of significance. The doors opened wider, revealing a grand room.

As you entered the grand room, your gaze fell upon the imposing figure across from you - a man clad in a sharp black suit, his distinctive black mask adorned with a hood. His presence immediately commanded attention and respect, and you couldn't help but make the connection - this must be the Frontman, the counterpart to your father's role.

Your father stepped forward and introduced himself to the Frontman, ignoring your presence. You were not the focus here; you were merely a spectator, a silent observer, your importance seemingly diminished. The sense of insignificance gnawed at you, but you remained composed, maintaining a stoic expression as you watched the encounter unfold.

The Frontman spoke, his voice authoritative and confident. "It is a pleasure to have you witness our 33rd Annual Squid Games," he echoed with a practiced smile, his gaze fixed on your father.

The words echoed in the grand room, a stark reminder of the gravity and spectacle of the events about to unfold - the annual game where lives were on the line, and the consequences were severe.

Your phone buzzed, interrupting the tense atmosphere. With a pleased smile, you reached into your purse and retrieved the device. As you sat down on one of the couches lining the wall, you muttered, "Finally," under your breath. Despite the gravity of the occasion, you couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at the distraction, grateful for a moment of respite from the tension.

You scrolled through the texts from your friends, their pleas for glamourous pictures from your vacation with your father only fueled your growing urge to break away and explore. As you glanced up, observing the room and the ongoing conversation, you weighed the option of sneaking out to indulge in something exciting of your own.

Just as you stood, preparing to casually leave the room, your father called out to you, his command firm and unwavering.

"Sit," he ordered, his voice stern. You froze in your tracks, the words reverberating in your mind. Your desire to step away and explore was abruptly brought to a halt by his authoritarian command.

“I’m just going to go-,” The click of the gun echoed in the room, causing you to halt your words. Your father's stern glare and the sight of him pointing the pistol at you filled you with a mix of fear and resignation. You reluctantly walked to the designated chair diagonally across from him and sat down, your eyes locked on the gun. It was a tactic he had used before, but it never failed to send a wave of fear through you, reminding you of the consequences of disobedience.

Despite being his daughter, you couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that your father wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. The tension in the room was palpable, and the cold, unwavering gaze of the gun sent chills down your spine.

You muttered your apology, the words leaving your lips with a mixture of guilt and resignation. Your father's glare softened slightly as he lowered the pistol, a hint of acknowledgment in his eyes. He said nothing, merely giving a subtle nod, acknowledging your apology but still keeping a watchful eye on you.

Your father turned his attention back to the Frontman, continuing the conversation with a casual tone.

"Kids," he remarked nonchalantly, referring to you with a subtle nod in your direction. "They can be quite a handful." You remained still in your seat, trying to blend into the background, silently absorbing the words exchanged between your father and the Frontman.

As the Frontman stared at you, his masked gaze fixed upon you, you couldn't help but feel a strange sense of acknowledgment. His gesture, the slight tilt of his head, conveyed a silent curiosity. Without fully understanding why, you responded with a subtle nod of your own, a silent acknowledgment passing between you.

The Frontman's curiosity grew as he observed you, his masked gaze now filled with deeper intrigue. There was a hint of concern beneath the hard exterior, a subtle indication of his genuine interest in your well-being. He couldn't quite pinpoint why, but there was an undeniable pull to ensure your safety and comfort.

The Frontman broke the silence, offering a gesture of hospitality. "Would you like a drink?" he asked, his voice calm yet with a touch of formality. The offer seemed almost casual, a small gesture amidst the tense atmosphere, but the underlying purpose remained clear - to maintain control and ensure everyone was comfortable while the games began.

With a grateful nod, you accepted the Frontman's offer of a drink. The nerves were building within you, and the thought of numbing the tension even slightly was enticing.

"Please," you replied, your voice carrying a mix of relief and anticipation, while your father remained stoic in his seat, observing the interaction with a guarded expression.

The guards moved swiftly and efficiently, providing you with a drink with remarkable speed. You couldn't help but appreciate the efficiency and the thoughtfulness of the gesture, offering a small nod to convey your gratitude, your smile tinged with a hint of tension. Your father watched the exchange with a guarded expression, his eyes scrutinizing every move you made, observing your every reaction.

The moment had arrived. The games were about to commence, and the first event was set to be red light, green light. A seemingly simple premise, yet the tension and anticipation hung heavily in the air. The atmosphere seemed charged with anticipation and the potential for both triumph and defeat.

As the screen lit up, the scene unfolded before your eyes. The field of players, clad in green tracksuits, moved forward, their movements slow and measured as they explored their surroundings. Their attention was immediately drawn to the large doll stationed at the far end, a sight that both captivated and unnerved.

The calm and cheerful voice echoed through the field, issuing the directive.

"Please stand behind the white line drawn on the field," it repeated, the words resonating in the air. "Once again, will all players please stand behind the white line and await further instructions."

The players, dressed in green tracksuits, stood in a line behind the white line, seemingly unaware of the danger that loomed ahead. They followed the instructions with obedience, showing no signs of comprehending the true nature of the games they had willingly entered. There was a sense of blind trust, oblivious to the impending chaos and violence that awaited them.

The phone on the small table beside you rang abruptly, catching your attention. The Frontman moved closer, answering the call with a sense of authority. "This is the Frontman speaking," he said, his voice carrying a confident yet somewhat chilling tone. "We can begin now," he confirmed.

The Frontman took his seat beside you, maintaining a respectful yet noticeable distance between you. However, you couldn't help but feel a subtle sense of unease as you felt his gaze on the small parts of your face that were left uncovered by the mask. There was an intensity to his gaze that felt almost disquieting, a mix of curiosity and observation, his eyes seemingly taking in every detail of your features.

The Voice's tone carried a blend of cheerfulness and authority, as it instructed the players on the imminent event.

"You will be playing Red Light, Green Light," the voice announced, a tone of gleeful anticipation evident in its words. The players, dressed in green, stood still, their expressions a mix of anticipation and tension, their eyes focused on the voice coming through the speakers.

The rules of the game were explained with a strange blend of innocence and coldness.

"You are allowed to move forward when 'it' shouts 'Green Light,' stop when 'it' shouts 'Red Light.' If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated," the voice stated, its tone maintaining a mix of childlike playfulness and the harsh reality of the consequences they faced.

The voice continued, outlining the rules of the game with a matter-of-fact tone.

"Those players who cross the finish line without being eliminated within the five-minute playtime will pass this round," it explained. There was a pause, a dramatic moment of anticipation, before the voice concluded, "With that, let the game begin." As the words echoed in the air, the players braced themselves, the tension palpable.

The doll, with its childlike voice, issued the first command.

"Green light," it declared, its voice a mix of innocence and underlying menace. With those words, the game officially commenced. As the game began, a few players eagerly surged forward, attempting to make progress toward the finish line.

In an instant, the tension heightened as the voice announced, "Red light." The players, who had been moving forward, came to an abrupt stop, frozen in their tracks, their bodies gitty with anticipation.

You couldn't help but tense up at the sudden sound of a gunshot, the gunshot breaking the tense silence, causing your body to flinch involuntarily.

The voice, cold and unforgiving, announced the first casualty of the game. "Player 324. Eliminated."

The players, engrossed in the game, had yet to fully comprehend the true nature and danger of the situation. Despite the gunshot, most of them were still caught up in the excitement of the competition, their attention focused on the doll and the race to the finish line. The reality of the violence and life-or-death stakes hadn't fully sunk in for many participants.

As one player finally looked down at his dying friend, the reality and gravity of the situation became undeniable. Fear shot through their eyes, and realization dawned on their face. The cheerful facade shattered as they faced the brutal truth of the game's nature, a truth that left them shaken to the core. It was a moment of sobering clarity, the illusion of a simple game evaporating before their very eyes.

The chaos unfolded as panicked players rushed to the entrance doors, desperately trying to flee. However, their efforts were futile as one by one, they were shot by the hidden snipers in the walls.

The voice echoed through the loudspeakers once again, repeating the rules of the game with a chilling precision.

The remaining players, shaken and terrified, listened intently as the rules were reiterated, their hearts pounding in their chests.

"You are allowed to move forward when 'it' shouts 'Green Light' and stop when 'it' shouts 'Red Light.' If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated," the voice stated, its tone cold and methodical.

Your father, visibly engrossed in the spectacle, couldn't contain his excitement. "Amazing first choice," he chuckled, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and enthusiasm. "We simply can't do it yet. We need more players on sight. But this is amazing!" His words showcased the twisted nature of the games and the satisfaction the game makers derived from the chaos and bloodshed.

Your father turned his gaze to you, seeking your opinion on the unfolding events. "What do you think, (y/n)?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone, as though he was eager to gauge your reaction to the unfolding spectacle.

Your words came out in a matter-of-fact tone, the practical aspect of the situation evident in your response.

"It's the best choice for the first game," you stated, a sense of realism lacing your words. "It gets rid of the mass amount of players and shows them the outcome if they don't listen. It's practical." Your father seemed pleased with your assessment, a subtle nod indicating his agreement and approval of your observation.

The Frontman, listening to your words, couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for your practicality and realistic approach. He appreciated the way you had analyzed the situation and made a rational observation. In a world where brutal violence was the norm, your sensible view stood out, and he respected it quietly.

The game continued, the voice's cold instructions echoing through the field as players met their fate. Each round of "Red Light" brought a new wave of eliminations, the remaining players trembling in fear and uncertainty. The game was a deadly, ruthless spectacle, leaving the players in a state of constant tension and anxiety.

Your attention was drawn to the small figurine band that came to life, playing a gentle tune. As "Fly Me to the Moon" filled the room, you turned to the Frontman, a surprised smile gracing your face.

The Frontman's gesture took you by surprise, his action a mix of playfulness and unexpected charm amidst the cold, violent world of the games.

Despite the tense atmosphere, the Frontman's decision to play "Fly Me to the Moon" softened the mood slightly. As the song played, you crossed your legs, your voice carrying a slight tone of contentment.

"I like this song," you remarked, a small, appreciative smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

The Frontman's eyes flickered, his gaze briefly meeting yours, as he acknowledged your comment. There was a subtle sense of understanding in his gaze, a glimpse of a shared appreciation for the song that created a brief moment of connection between you two.

The moment of connection and shared appreciation between you and the Frontman provided a sliver of hope that this trip could indeed become more enjoyable than you had initially anticipated. The games were still unfolding, and the tension in the room lingered, but there was a hint of warmth in the air.

[dragon-of-grandeur]

I'm not sure you understand.

I'm not sure you understand how excruciatingly lonely someone can be.

How lonely do you think you'd be if you grew up hearing every day that your opinion didn't matter? That no one would be attracted to you because you're too chubby? How embarrassing your own mother thought you were? How your accomplishments were pathetic compared to hers? Hearing about all of the things that were so incredibly wrong with you. Hearing how much of a disappointment you turned out to be.

How lonely do you think you'd be if the only people available to make friends with cared exclusively about the one thing you couldn't do no matter how hard you tried? If everything you ever cared about was considered evil and got taken from you the moment you found it? What if you knew that the moment you were finally free to be a person, everyone you ever loved would abandon you for it? That they would decide they never wanted to see or speak to you again? Every single one. What if you realized you were alone before that even happens? What if you realized all the love you've ever experienced in life was fake?

How lonely do you think you'd be if you grew up so different from everyone else around you that you didn't even feel human? What if you were made to believe that you didn't deserve to exist? What if you were told you were going to die a horrific death for being everything you were inside?

How lonely would you be if you spent every night terrified and trying desperately to cover up your sobbing because you can't tell anyone about any of it?

What would you do?

What would you do to have a friend? What would you do to have anyone? How desperate do you think you'd be? How would you even accomplish that if you weren't allowed to talk to anyone else outside of your family and their friends? Where could you possibly find someone else to connect with someone as awkward, strange, angry, and sad as you? Someone who could know about all of the things inside of you and still love you.

I made someone.

I gave him my passion, my strength, my courage, my confidence, my sense of adventure, my stubbornness, my sense of loyalty, my sense of humor. I gave him my love of dinosaurs, my love of cars, my love of horror movies, my love of 80's music. I had his entire life figured out. I named him. I thought of him whenever I was lonely, which was always. He was the only way I could safely love and be loved by in return. He never went away. Why would he? He's my best friend.

What good would memory barriers have done? How useful would it be if we didn't even get along? What purpose would there be if it caused me any distress to have Alex?

True loneliness can be traumatizing.

Non-disordered plurality can exist.

Created headmates can be life saving.

[intermundia]

i've been so worried about bix for so long, ever since she was first introduced and it was clear how much she meant to cassian, because it seemed as though she was inherently doomed by the structure of the tragedy of andor all pointing toward rogue one, a story without her presence. they did such a good job with the character, the writing and the performance by adria arjona, she's so brave, beautiful, and brilliant, and also so deeply troubled and traumatized by what she's experienced, and i did not want to watch her die. i don't know if we've truly seen the last of her in season two, i almost hope so, because her making the hard choice to go, exerting her own agency and showing a powerful dedication to the higher cause of rebellion that cassian was lacking, so tired of violence and burnt out of duty as he was, so willing to cast it all aside for a private life. i think it was a wise and powerful writing decision, how she wasn't killed on screen for any narrative convenience and the pain her death would bring her partner, but she was able to live and honestly still accomplish both those things in the story. her absence, and cassian's pain, as much as she also was hurt to do it, it was her choice. i don't know if they will ever meet again, if she had any real foreboding that she was leaving him to die, but she believed him to have a higher purpose, to be a messenger, and she would not allow herself to stand between him and his destiny, for the good of the entire galaxy. i think that's beautifully sad, and perfectly fits in with the wider themes of hope and sacrifice.

[pucksandpower]

Prove Them Wrong

Charles Leclerc x wife!Reader

Summary: when an invitation to your high school reunion arrives, you are ready to throw it in the garbage … but your husband convinces you to go and prove them wrong

Happy Charles Leclerc contract extension day to all who celebrate 🫶

The invitation arrives in the mail on a Tuesday morning. You’ve just finished your coffee and are clearing the breakfast dishes when you see it — that familiar crest imprinted on the thick, creamy stationary. Your five-year high school reunion.

Immediately, your stomach drops. You haven’t thought about high school in years, haven’t had any contact with your classmates in just as long. Those weren’t the easiest years for you. In fact, they were some of the hardest.

You were shy, quiet, a bit awkward. You never quite fit in with the popular crowd, though you longed to. Much of your time was spent alone, lost in books and music, wishing you could break out of your shell. The kids were cruel in their exclusion. You still remember the whispers, the laughter at your expense, the feeling of being an outsider looking in.

After graduation, you left it all behind without a backward glance. You built a new life, one where you finally found your place. You have a successful career, an amazing husband, a beautiful home. You’ve traveled the world, experienced things you could have never imagined as that geeky teen.

Yet holding the invitation in your hands, the old insecurities come flooding back. Could you really face those people again? The ones who looked through you like you were invisible? Who made you feel small?

You’re lost in thought when Charles comes into the kitchen. He kisses your cheek and asks what’s wrong. Wordlessly, you hand him the invitation.

He glances at it and understanding dawns on his face. “Ah, a reunion. I take it you’re not thrilled?”

You shake your head. “I hated high school. The kids were really mean. I don’t know if I can go back there and face them again.”

Charles pulls you into a hug. “I’m sorry you went through that, love. Kids can be terribly cruel.” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “You know, this might be a good chance to show them how wrong they were about you.”

You give him a skeptical look and he continues. “Think about it — you’re not that shy girl anymore. You’ve accomplished so much, you have an amazing life. Maybe going back will give you some closure. A chance to prove to yourself and to them how far you’ve come.”

“I don’t know ...” you say uncertainly.

Charles grasps your shoulders, looking into your eyes. “You are an incredible woman. You have nothing to feel insecure about. I know it won’t be easy, but I think this could be good for you. Let them see the strong, successful person you’ve become. And I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

You take a deep breath, letting his words sink in. Maybe he’s right. This could be an opportunity to flip the script, to rewrite the ending to that difficult chapter of your life.

“Okay,” you say finally. “Let’s do it.”

Charles grins and pulls you in for a real embrace now. “That’s my girl. I’m so proud of you.”

Over the next few weeks, you have moments of confidence mixed with waves of doubt. Charles is a constant source of reassurance. The night before the reunion, your nerves are frayed.

“What if they’re still awful? What if all those old feelings come rushing back the moment I see them?” You fret as you get ready for bed.

Charles takes your hands, his gaze earnest. “I know you’re scared, chérie. But don’t forget — you’re not alone now. I’ll be by your side the whole time. And if anyone says one nasty thing, we’ll walk right out that door, okay?”

You smile gratefully at him. “Okay. Thank you, Charlie. I don’t know if I could do this without you.”

He kisses you softly. “You’ve got this. Get some rest, mon cœur.”

***

In the morning, you take extra care getting ready, donning an elegant dress and styling your hair just so. Looking in the mirror, you remind yourself that you belong in these clothes, in this life.

The reunion is at your old high school, in the gymnasium. As you walk in hand-in-hand with Charles, the smells hit you first — sweat and sneakers, just like you remember. There are balloons and streamers, a table of snacks and drinks. And clustered together, familiar faces you haven’t seen in five years.

Your heart begins to pound. Charles gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got this,” he murmurs. Then you lift your chin and step forward to greet your past.

As you scan the room, you recognize faces that used to fill the halls of your high school. Some look familiar, unchanged by the passing years. Others you barely recognize at all.

You steel yourself as a group of giggling girls comes into view — the former popular clique. Lindsay, Heather, and Bethany. Once the queens of the school, rulers of all they surveyed.

Lindsay spots you first. Her overly plumped lips curl into a smirk. “Well, look who it is. Little Y/N Y/L/N.”

You squeeze Charles’ hand tighter as that old childhood instinct to shrink kicks in. But you lift your chin and meet Lindsay’s gaze head-on. “Lindsay. Hello.”

Her eyes flick dismissively over you before landing on Charles. They widen, lips parting. Of course she recognizes him — his face is rarely out of the public eye.

“Y/N!” Bethany exclaims with obviously fake delight. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

You allow yourself a small, satisfied smile. “Of course. This is my husband, Charles Leclerc.”

Charles gives them a polite nod. “Pleasure to meet you ladies.”

The mean girls’ jaws drop in unison. You can’t help but feel a swell of pride at the impressed once-overs they give Charles.

Heather recovers first, plastering on a sycophantic grin. “The pleasure’s all ours! What a lovely surprise.” She touches Charles’ arm lightly. “We would love to catch up and hear all about your life, Y/N.”

You catch Charles’ eye. His lips twitch, seeing right through them.

“That’s kind of you to offer,” you say smoothly. “If you’ll please excuse us, I see some other classmates I’d like to greet.”

You steer Charles away, leaving them sputtering. As soon as you’re out of earshot, he chuckles. “Well, they certainly changed their tune quickly.”

“Once they realized they could get something from me now,” you reply wryly.

You make small talk with a few classmates, keeping it surface-level. Charles’ presence by your side is bolstering. With him here, you’re reminded that you have nothing to prove to these people. Your worth isn’t defined by their approval.

After grabbing drinks, you scan the room again. Your stomach sinks as your eyes land on a familiar figure — Brad Collins. Handsome as ever, surrounded by a gaggle of admirers.

Brad was your biggest crush all through high school. You pined for him secretly, knowing he was way out of your league. He never gave you the time of day — too focused on football, parties, and whichever popular girl caught his eye that week.

“Everything okay?” Charles asks, noticing your expression.

You nod tightly. “My old crush is here.”

Charles spots him and understanding crosses his face. He presses a kiss to your temple. “His loss, mon amour.”

At that moment, Brad looks up and notices you. His stare is cold, dismissive. He says something to his friends and they erupt in laughter, eyes cutting your way.

Your cheeks burn. Some things never change.

Charles’ jaw tightens. He takes your hand firmly and starts steering you toward Brad and his posse.

You glance at him in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“We’re going over to say hello,” he replies calmly.

“Charles, you don’t have to ...”

He silences you with a look. “Trust me.”

You swallow hard and nod. Brad watches you approach with that familiar cocky smirk.

“Well, look who it is,” he drawls as you come to stand before him. “Never thought I’d see you at one of these things, Y/L/N.”

You stare him down unwaveringly. “Yes, well, people can surprise you.”

Brad’s gaze slides to Charles, brows lifting. You can see him trying to place how he might know this handsome, expensively dressed man by your side.

“Brad, this is my husband, Charles Leclerc,” you say sweetly.

Brad’s smirk disappears. His friends gape between you and Charles.

“Husband, huh?” Brad says after a pause, regaining his bravado. “Well, congratulations. Didn’t know you had it in you to land a guy like this.”

Fury rises in you, but before you can respond, Charles steps forward. His voice is pleasant but his eyes are steel.

“Clearly you don’t know much about my wife at all. But that’s your loss. I’m the lucky one who gets to experience her incredible heart and mind every day.”

Brad flushes under Charles’ stare. An awkward beat passes.

Charles continues calmly, “I couldn’t ask for a better partner. I just hope you realize what an opportunity you missed out on back then. Have a good night, gentlemen.”

He turns, guiding you away and leaving Brad speechless behind you. Your eyes shine as you gaze up at Charles.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?”

He grins. “Feel free to tell me again. And I meant every word.” He nods over at Brad’s group, now whispering furiously. “Hopefully that wipes the smirk off his face.”

You laugh, leaning up to kiss Charles’ cheek. “This turned out to be good advice after all. Thank you for being here, for reminding me who I am now.”

The rest of the reunion passes uneventfully. You mingle, laugh, and share stories with classmates who weren’t part of the toxic popular crowd. They’re welcoming and kind. For the first time, you feel like you’re reconnecting with peers, not tormentors.

As you and Charles get into the car to drive home, you let out a long, satisfied breath. The demons of your past have been conquered for good. You faced your bullies and they’re the ones who were left lacking.

You squeeze Charles’ hand, your heart full of gratitude. “Let’s go home.”

***

The adrenaline rush from the reunion slowly fades as you and Charles drive to your hotel. You lean your head back against the leather seat, letting out a long exhale.

“How are you feeling?” Charles asks, glancing your way.

You consider the question. “Good,” you realize with some surprise. “Really good actually.”

Charles smiles. “I’m glad to hear it.”

You shake your head slowly. “I can’t believe I almost didn’t go. Thank you for pushing me to face them. It was so empowering to see their reactions, to realize how little I care about their opinions now.”

“You did all the hard work,” he reminds you. “I just gave you a little nudge. I’m so proud of you, chérie.”

Warmth spreads through you at his words. Not for the first time, you feel a rush of gratitude that this man chose you, sees you, loves you exactly as you are.

Once in your suite, Charles makes you a cup of chamomile tea and you curl up together on the couch. You rest your head on his shoulder, replaying the events of the night in your mind.

“Do you think they’ll actually learn anything from tonight?” You ask after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “All those kids who were so terrible — will seeing me change their perspectives at all?”

Charles considers this, running his fingers idly through your hair. “I’m not sure. Hopefully it gave them something to think about, but some people never grow out of that mindset. The important thing is that you held your head high and didn’t let them make you feel small.”

You nod slowly. “I think if I could go back and tell my teenage self that this night would come, it would have made those years a little more bearable. Knowing I would come through it stronger. That I would have you by my side.”

He kisses the top of your head. “I’ll remind you as often as you need. Though for what it’s worth, I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You’ve always had an inner strength, even if it took time to fully embrace it. Those kids certainly didn’t put it there.”

You smile up at him. “Have I mentioned lately that you always know exactly what to say?”

He chuckles. “Once or twice.”

You talk softly as the evening winds down, the tea warming you from the inside out. Your reunion with the ghosts of high school is finally behind you. It’s time to let go of the last lingering traces they have over you.

Over the next week, life returns to its normal rhythm. You throw yourself back into work, energized by a new sense of confidence and peace. Every day the experience recedes further into the past.

Until the phone call comes.

You’re just sitting down to lunch when your cell lights up with an unfamiliar number. For a moment you simply stare at it, perplexed.

After a brief internal debate, you answer. “Hello?”

“Y/N!” Lindsay chirps in an overly bright voice. “How are you, hon?”

You hold the phone away from your ear, making a face at her faux familiarity. “I’m fine. To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask evenly.

“Well, I was just calling to see if we could get together! You know, have a little reunion of our own. I’d love to catch up outside of that whole silly event.”

You nearly choke on your water. “You would?”

“Of course!” Lindsay laughs airily. “I barely got to talk to you. And I’d love to spend more time with that charming husband of yours ...”

Ah. There it is. You have to stifle an eye roll.

“That’s … kind of you to offer,” you say carefully. “But I’m afraid our schedules are pretty busy at the moment.”

“Oh, I’m sure we could find the time!” She presses. “I would love to take you two to dinner. My treat!”

Tempting as that is, you have zero desire to spend more time with this woman, despite her transparent new interest in you.

“Appreciate the invitation, but I’ll have to pass,” you say, your tone final. “Take care, Lindsay.”

You hang up before she can protest further. Shaking your head, you go back to your salad. Some things never change.

When Charles gets home, you regale him with the bizarre phone call. He looks equally astonished.

“She actually asked you to dinner? Just to get closer to me?” He gives an incredulous laugh.

You grin ruefully. “Yep. I guess you made more of an impression than we realized.”

He shakes his head in disbelief. Then his expression turns thoughtful.

“You know what? I think we should take her up on that offer after all.”

You stare at him. “What? Why?”

His eyes glint mischievously. “Because I’d like to make it very clear what I think of people who treat you so poorly. And a free dinner out sounds lovely.”

You can’t help but laugh at his unexpected scheming side. “Look at you, getting all protective and devious! I have to admit, it would be gratifying to knock her off her pedestal a bit more.”

Charles winks. “That’s what I was thinking.”

And so, despite your better judgment, you call Lindsay back and accept her invitation to dinner that weekend.

You take more care than usual getting ready, playing up your most striking features. Charles looks unfairly handsome in his designer suit, hair perfectly tousled just to annoy Lindsay further.

When you arrive at the trendy upscale restaurant she chose, Lindsay is already there waiting. She air-kisses your cheeks in greeting, fawning over you and Charles effusively.

As the meal begins, she dominates the conversation, barely letting you get a word in. She name-drops shamelessly, trying to impress Charles with all her supposed connections.

“Oh Charles, you simply must come stay at our villa in Positano sometime! I’d be happy to arrange it for you both. Anything for Y/N’s hubby!” She titters, touching his arm.

You and Charles exchange subtle amused looks across the table. When the waiter appears for your order, Charles gives him an easy smile.

“My wife will have the scallops and I’ll take the filet. Oh, and send over your most expensive bottle of champagne, please. My treat tonight.”

Lindsay’s smile freezes. You bite back a grin, catching his eye again. Message received.

As dinner winds down, Charles finally turns the tables on her. “So Lindsay, what have you been up to since high school? Y/N tells me you two were quite close.”

Lindsay flushes, flustered. “Oh … well, you know, this and that!” She forces a laugh. “I’m in between ventures at the moment. But I stay very busy with charity work and running in social circles.”

“How lovely for you,” Charles says neutrally. “And your husband? What does he do?”

“I’m, uh, not married,” she mumbles, clearly off-kilter now.

“I see. Well, I’m sure the right man will come along someday.” He smiles placidly. “Everyone deserves to feel that kind of love, don’t you agree?”

Lindsay just nods, face pinched. You stifle a satisfied smile behind your napkin.

Later in the car, Charles grins over at you. “That was entertaining.”

You lean over and kiss his cheek. “Have I mentioned you’re the best husband ever?”

He laughs. “A few times. But I’ll never get tired of hearing it.”

[hunkpossession0]

**Riding a New Life: A Ghost's Journey**

I had been a wandering spirit for what felt like an eternity. Ever since the accident that severed my connection to the living world, I had been drifting through the ether, invisible and forgotten. That is, until today.

I found myself in a dimly lit parking garage, the scent of gasoline and rubber filling the air. The growl of an engine echoed off the walls, and that’s when I saw him—a young biker, effortlessly cool in his black and red leather suit, leaning casually against his sleek Honda. He was everything I had once admired from afar, back when I was alive.

I watched him for a moment, a pang of envy and longing coursing through my spectral form. Then, almost instinctively, I felt myself drawn toward him. There was a sudden pull, a rush of energy, and before I knew it, I was inside his body.

The moment I slipped into his form, it was as if the world exploded in sensation. The first thing I noticed was the heat—the intoxicating warmth of his skin, the snug embrace of the leather suit wrapping around me. It was a second skin, tight and form-fitting, accentuating every contour and muscle. The leather was smooth and supple, a mix of security and allure that was almost overwhelming.

I flexed my fingers, feeling the resistance of the gloves, the reassuring grip they provided. I couldn't help but admire the strength in these hands, the power in this body. My heart raced, not just from the thrill of possession, but from the sheer intensity of feeling alive again. The suit clung to me, a perfect fit, and I relished the way it made me look—strong, confident, and undeniably hot.

Every step I took in the leather suit was a new discovery. The way it accentuated my broad shoulders, the way it hugged my biceps and triceps, making every muscle pop with definition. I could feel the smooth caress of the leather against my skin, the way it moved with me, an extension of my newfound strength.

After an exhilarating ride through the city, I decided to explore more of what this new life had to offer. I had noticed a gym bag in the trunk of his bike, and an idea struck me. I headed to the local gym, eager to test the limits of this new body.

Entering the gym, I felt a wave of excitement. The scent of sweat and metal filled the air, and the rhythmic clanking of weights created a motivating soundtrack. I walked confidently to the locker room, changing into a tank top and workout pants that showed off my muscular physique. The reflection in the mirror was almost surreal—I was now this fit, handsome biker with a body that drew admiration and respect.

I started with some light stretches, feeling every muscle respond with a fluidity and power I had never experienced before. Moving to the weight section, I picked up a dumbbell, the cold metal heavy in my hand. I began a series of bicep curls, watching in awe as the muscles in my arms bulged and flexed.

The intensity of the workout was intoxicating. I pushed myself harder, feeling the burn in my muscles, the rush of endorphins coursing through my veins. I moved from one machine to another, challenging myself with each set, reveling in the strength and endurance of this body.

Between sets, I caught glimpses of myself in the mirror. The way the tank top clung to my chest and shoulders, the way my arms looked pumped and powerful—it was a heady mix of vanity and pride. I couldn't help but snap a quick selfie, capturing the moment of pure, unadulterated strength.

As the workout continued, I felt a growing sense of accomplishment. This body was capable of so much, and I was determined to explore its limits. The sweat poured down my skin, a testament to the hard work and effort I was putting in. And with each rep, each lift, I could feel myself growing more confident, more comfortable in this new skin.

But something was missing. My spectral journey had been long and lonely, and I longed to share this new life with someone who understood. That’s when I remembered my closest ghost friend, another lost soul who had wandered with me through the void. He deserved this chance too.

Later that evening, I returned to the parking garage, where I found another biker—a friend of the man whose body I had claimed. He was tall and lean, with a rugged handsomeness that made my decision easy. I called out to my ghost friend, guiding him to this new vessel.

With a rush of energy, my friend entered the biker’s body. The transformation was immediate. He blinked, adjusting to the new sensations, then looked at me with a mixture of awe and gratitude. We were no longer lost souls. We were alive, and we had each other.

Together, we returned to the gym. It was a surreal experience, seeing my friend in his new form, watching him flex and admire his new physique. We took a moment to capture it—a selfie of the two of us, side by side, strong and proud. The bond we shared as ghosts had transformed into something deeper, something more intimate.

In the gym mirror, we stood close, our bodies radiating strength and confidence. My friend, now in his own muscular form, flexed his bicep while I wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Our tank tops clung to us, revealing every sculpted muscle, every defined line. The pride in our eyes was unmistakable. Here we were, two souls reborn, finding a new life and love in the most unexpected way.

As the days passed, we explored our new lives together. We rode our bikes through the city, feeling the wind on our faces, the thrill of speed and freedom. We worked out side by side, pushing each other to new heights, celebrating every achievement.

Our connection grew stronger, evolving into a romantic bond that felt natural and right. We were a couple now, navigating this new world together. The love we had for each other, forged in the ethereal realm, blossomed in our new, physical forms.

And as we stood together, gazing at our reflections, we knew that this was just the beginning. We had found a new home, a new life, and most importantly, we had found each other. The road ahead was ours to conquer, and we were ready to face it together.

The leather suit, which had started it all, became a symbol of our transformation. Every time I slipped into it, I felt a rush of excitement and power. The way it hugged my body, the way it made me look and feel—it was exhilarating. And as we rode together, side by side, I knew that we were more than just bikers. We were partners, lovers, and together, we were unstoppable.

[childrenofcain-if]

Ignore this if you've answered this ask before but if the ROs or MC got pregnant while they are in university, will they keep the baby or not?

if MC is the one who got pregnant (it ultimately depends on the MC btw):

CÉDRIC LACROIX: cédric will be very against the idea at first but once he sees that you don’t want to give the baby up, he’ll support you regardless. you’ll also have the duration of the pregnancy to see how he has a turnaround and actively tries to be a good dad before the kid is even born. i’d say that out of all the ROs, he’s the one who’s going to be overbearing and going all out on his fatherly duties.

VANCE NÆSHOLM: vance would be supportive from the get go about keeping the kid. if things get too hard, he’ll offer to drop out and be a stay-at-home dad and get an online degree instead. he’ll just be happy to be having a baby with you and make sure he’s always there for you both.

WILHELM OSTENDORF: all that breeding kink accounted for something, i guess? either way, billy will be overjoyed. yes, he knows the timing is very bad but he truly believes you can both get through it. good luck getting him to stop talking to the baby in your belly and telling them stories about you two.

DUMITRU DIACONU: oh hell no! dumitru will very much want you to delete the baby, but if you insist on keeping them, he’ll disappear for 2-3 days without a trace. when he returns, his dramatic ass will literally be on his knees and telling you that losing you is so much worse than being a dad (what a charmer) and beg for you to give him one more chance. to his credit, he matures a lot in the duration of your pregnancy and gives up a lot of his vices. you’ll even find him singing a song he wrote for your future baby to your belly when he thinks you’re asleep.

MAXWELL WHITLOCK-SINGH: maxwell will strongly object to you keeping the baby, but he is helpless to do anything if you do not agree with him. the royal family will disown him over the fact that he had a baby out of wedlock with a filthy rich commoner, but he also doesn’t want to lose the love of his life and their child. in the end, he’ll tell his immediate family about the situation and marry you before the baby is born.

if the ROs are the ones who got pregnant:

CÉLINE LACROIX: shocked. confused. scared. céline doesn’t want to terminate the pregnancy but she’s very young and she wants to accomplish a lot before even thinking about having kids. she’ll get an abortion but will be very traumatised by the whole experience.

VANESSA NÆSHOLM: vanessa will keep the baby. and it’s not because of religious reasons, surprisingly. she just feels an instant connection with the baby growing inside her and would want to keep them. she dreams about how they might look and grow up to be and is just happy that they’re a part of you both.

WILHELMINE OSTENDORF: considering billie’s health currently, the baby would likely be miscarried. this is especially devastating because she would like to keep them. she has always wished for a family with you and it’ll be a cruel outcome for everyone.

DUMITRA DIACONU: dumitra is getting an abortion as soon as she’s able to. she is not becoming a mother before she even graduates college! besides, she isn’t exactly fond of the idea of ever having kids at the moment. although she might change her mind in the future if you talk to her.

MAXINE WHITLOCK-SINGH: not only is it gonna be a complete scandal which will make the royal family turn upside down, maxine will 100% get disowned by even her parents if she keeps the baby. she also isn’t a huge fan of experiencing motherhood before she even graduates from law school so it’s a no from her, love.

[mirohlayo]

CHASE MY DREAM(S)

( Lewis has one last dream to fulfill, well if you don't count the most important one. )

warning : a lil boring introduction, all fluffy

note : i want a Lewis in my life pls

word count : 1.3k

Mercedes. Lewis Hamilton. Two names that both worked perfectly. We always likened them to one another, like pieces of a puzzle that fit together. As soon as we thought of one, we thought of the other.

However, the seven time Formula 1 world champion struggled to achieve victories and podiums, and his formerly usual appearances on these three steps were much less frequent, rare and almost... non existent. It was not his lack of experience that held him back, Lewis was surely the most experienced on the current grid, and that without a doubt.

Rather, it was his opponents, a certain team and a certain driver. RedBull and Max Verstappen. Many of Lewis' fans will say that he was robbed of his eighth championship, in 2021, but we are not here to debate that subject. The loyal Mercedes driver doubted his choices, his actions and his performances. His thoughts wandered, because at what price could he afford this eighth championship that he dreamed of so much?

The price to pay was surely great and fatal. Leaving the team for which he raced, the one with whom he has always been faithful and loyal for 11 years. But after 3 years without success, maybe a new start will do him good, and maybe this change will turn everything upside down. He still had a dream to accomplish, this eighth championship to win. Well, to be honest, he still had two dreams to fulfill.

This famous championship, as previously announced, and then, her. This person who has just joined Lewis in his driver room. This pretty woman who has known him for several years now. The one for whom Lewis' heart seemed to melt in an instant as soon as he laid eyes on her.

She looked like a dream. Angelic and almost unreal. The kind of face you can admire for hours, and the kind of voice you can listen to speak for hours because there was an inexplicable sweetness emanating from it. It was one of Lewis's most beautiful dreams. To be by her side forever, to finally have the courage to offer her a life together, a love of the strongest.

He took her in his arms, squeezing her gently. He could let himself go in these embraces, and show her his weaknesses and his fears. She knew him by heart now, and she worried a lot about his mental health and his career choices. She was perfect in his eyes. “Still thinking about your contract, mhh?” Lewis chuckled weakly, almost ironically. He expected you to ask him this question.

His eyes, where a glow that you couldn't describe danced, met yours. You looked for him, and behind those pupils that were full of thousands of different feelings, you tried to find the words he was trying to say. The true feelings he felt deep inside. He was still smiling weakly, his gaze softened by your face. "I think deep down I made the right choice, Y/n. It's just that leaving Mercedes after all these years..."

He couldn't manage to finish his sentence, looking down and staring at your feet face to face. He felt totally exposed, lacking in confidence and full of doubts. Maybe a little shameful. His grip had loosened, his hands resting in the hollow of your hips. "They haven't really listened to you over the last two years, Lewis... as if you weren't their driver, as if the vision of a seven time Formula 1 champion who drives every day had no importance"

You manage to extract another mocking laugh from Lewis, who, despite his love for this team, totally agreed with your words. His racing team had been indifferent to his suggestions and comments. He played nervously with his fingers. You could feel the tension and stress in him, and seeing him like this broke your heart. The man in front of you didn't deserve this.

You grabbed his hands gently, separating them from each other. Lewis looked up, his expression completely dejected. He looked like he was about to cry and you couldn’t stand the sight anymore. Wrapping your arms around his back, you took care to gently guide his head onto your shoulder, into the crook of your neck, where he loved to nestle comfortably. His hands hadn't moved, just gripped your waist tighter.

Several minutes passed like this. The noise of the paddock hidden by the walls of the driver room. Lewis felt...at home. He was relaxing little by little, he absolutely didn't want to let you go. Everything seemed normal now, in your arms, far from all these incessant questions. “I believe in you so much, Lewis. Everyone believes in you, and everyone is very, very proud of you” Your lips brush against the driver’s temple, placing a soft, reassuring kiss there.

“It’s time for you to chase your dream.” Lewis leaned back slightly, locking his gaze with yours. He tilted his head to the side, a smile hanging on his face. "Dreams. Chase my dreams" You didn't immediately understand where he was going with this. Why was he repeating the same sentence as you? And then, after a few moments of confusion, you raised your eyebrows, intrigued and curious. You had finally found the difference, and it was in the number of dreams Lewis had.

He had piqued your curiosity, and he himself had guessed it by examining your expression. His smile gets bigger. “I don’t have one dream, but two dreams to fulfill Y/n.” He brings his face slightly closer to yours, only a few centimeters. He grins even wider. “Win this eighth championship. And above all, win the heart of this absolutely beautiful girl.” His index finger points to the top of your chest, reflecting his words.

Your eyes widened, your cheeks blushed violently. It is true that you absolutely, but absolutely did not expect a statement like that. Lewis couldn't help but laugh happily, satisfied with your reaction. "I have a race to win, sweetheart. Wait for me, m'kay?" He winked at you, before rushing onto the circuit. Everything was happening at an incredible pace, and while you were still stuck in your driver room thinking about what just happened, the race was already coming to an end. But an incredibly beautiful ending. Silverstone, 2024, and a Lewis on the podium of his home race. Finally.

The shock was still present in you, but with this sudden victory of your favorite driver - and your secret lover - the adrenaline didn't seem to want to subside. The applause from the completely overexcited and crazy crowd, the euphoric atmosphere. This time, everything really felt like a dream. So, gently pushing the different people, making your way among the Mercedes employees, you saw him there on the podium.

Big, strong, and proud of himself. A huge smile on his face and tears of joy beading on his sweet face. He looked around. He was looking for something, someone. And he finally seemed to have found it. You couldn't take your eyes off his, both too hypnotized by this surreal moment. And, despite the vibrant and almost dizzying atmosphere, he managed to read on your pretty lips these three words that he dreamed of hearing from you.

And this dream came true. So, finally, at the moment when he was brandishing this magnificent trophy, on the top step of this magnificent podium, he had regained this ounce of hope. His first dream had come true, and he had finally won the heart of the woman of his dreams. So, if he managed to did it after all these years, of course he can win that much desired eighth championship, right?

[sorcerous-caress]

could u possibly do how companions would treat tav's kid? like in a situation where a tav had a child/younger sibling or smth. fluffy fluff all around

You know how sometimes fate aligns so that your past deeds follow you into the future? This request gave me a flashback to my old writing blog.

Companions reacting to Tav's younger sibling/child

[ bg3, fluff, several characters ]

[ Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Karlach, Laezel, Shadowheart, Minthara ]

Astarion

What on earth is that little gremlin following you around? Just make sure that no one feeds it after midnight.

To say he's not a fan is a huge underestimation, he signed up for a camp full of hot available single adults and not a daycare. How are you expecting him to be his usual self when a pg13 warning keeps chasing you around.

Whatever, he will just ignore the goblin-like thing. He can do that, how hard can it be?

Well...actually now that some time has passed, he has to admit that the little menace is really funny at times. Especially that one time he stole Gale's books to build a book throne in the mud, Astarion swears he could still hear Gale's heart shattering into a million pieces, what a fond memory.

What? Pfff, no, he isn't getting attached. He just...well was doing some trick with a coin to make it disappear, and the kid happened to be nearby, Astarion definitely wasn't trying to impress them.

Now the thing about picking locks is that it's better to teach them young. Think of all the small places, nooks, and crannies they could fit into, bringing them some loot and actually be useful.

And since he's already bothering to do it, might as well teach them how to wield a bow. Properly wield a bow, not like how Wyll does it no, it requires elegance only an elf is capable of and Astarion is the most expert here to train them.

Did you see that? They're actually getting better. He genuinely is impressed, so much that he doesn't register the smile of pride adorning his face, the excitement in his voice as he boasts about the kid's accomplishment and how they're clearly superior than the other crotch goblins.

Gale

Ah, children, truly the future of mankind. Humanity's hope and the ones who will carry the torch after us.

He is almost giddy at the idea of having an impressionable youth to teach, to steer and to spoil rotten like he was spoiled.

Will show off magic tricks nonchalantly, he definitely has a hidden agenda in trying to make the kid a wizard. After all who is better than him, an arch wizard, to teach a new curious soul about all the wonders of the weave? No magic is too advanced, everything is possible with imagination.

If anything, kids have the best imagination, better than adults do. Which is the argument he uses when you ask him why your little one can shoot invisible fireballs now.

He would love to read to them, he has all kinds of stories about heros, past legends and fables that will guarantee them a safe and sound mind. A healthy mindest to nurture then into a good kind hearted adult.

Even when his books end up the subject of the kid's abuse kind of a lot- Gale is nothing but forgiving. Cut the kid some slack, if anything, Gale is happy they are safe and sound.

Would make special meals for the kid during dinner time a lot, bunny shaped carrot cuts or soup with a sparkly finish. He can even teach them some basic recipes, cooking is a very important life skill afterall.

Wyll

He is very experienced with kids. Feels a bit concerned for the fact they're at camp all alone and volunteers to stay behind and watch them. And no, unlike the previous two, he doesn't try to indoctrinate them into elf supremacy culture nor tactically manipulate them into being a wizard.

He just lets them be a kid, plays ball with them. Shows them how to play fetch with Scratch. Overall a very cool and laid back older brother.

He definitely takes great inspiration from his own dad and how he raised him, offers the same advice and wisdom his own father shared with him.

Shows the kid that life is so much more than it seems, nothing is truly evil and nothing is truly good. Both can be found in each other. He treats the kid with respect and doesn't pull the older than you card unless necessary.

He wants them to establish their own being, their own character and carve their own path in life.

Definitely does whatever he can to keep Mizora away from the child. That devil cannot be trusted, and even while he knows the kid is smart, he doesn't want to leave it up to fate whether Mizora tricks them into a pact or not.

Halsin

The kid adores him and all of his animal forms. Halsin indulges them a lot and changes into whatever wildshape they deem the coolest that day to play with them.

When he looks at them, he sees a seed for the future. It requires care and nurturing to grow properly, and he is willing to make this world a better place for them.

Shows them how important nature is, how we should take care of the world just like it takes care of us. How we should respect the plants and the animals, how every meal is a gift and should be treasured.

He has a very fatherly vibe to him. It comes naturally, and he doesn't even have to try. Whenever the kid feels overwhelmed or scared, it's Halsin they run up and hide behind.

Also, when they get in trouble too because they know Halsin will take their side.

And he knows the kid is using him sometimes, but he lets it slide. Takes the kid on walks a lot, helps them make friends with the nearby cat that sometimes frequents the camp.

There is a potted plant they're both growing, a small shared project between the two of them. Halsin adores the look of happiness the kid has whenever the plant sprouts a new leaf and grows taller.

They don't have to know that it was Halsin's powers keeping it alive throughout the frequent changing of their camp and consistent travelling.

Karlach

Little soldier is what she calls them.

Picks them up a lot after her engine gets fixed, let's them ride on her shoulder and hang on to her horns sometimes. Even indulges them and pretends she is a robot that they're controlling.

Sorry Astarion, she can't stop hugging you. She's a simple robot, and the overlord kid on her shoulders demanded it.

While Wyll is the cool yet dependable older sibling, Karlach is the even cooler one who's very chaotic and would help the kid in their pranks and cause trouble a lot.

Ah, what the hell kid, sure you can pick up her great flaming axe and swing it around. Actually she will use a nearby table as a shield and you should definitely try throwing it at her.

It's not that she means to be a bad influence, it's just that she is extremely indulgent. That it circles back to being a bad influence without meaning to.

They want to only eat sweets for dinner and all day? Hell yeah little soldier she wants the same. They want to do it for the rest of eternity and never eat vegetables again? Sign her the fuck up because she is ride or die.

Oh yeah, your kid/sibling can swear now, thanks to her, you're welcome.

Jaheira

Is the one feeding them the vegetables, after telling Karlach off and putting her in the timeout corner.

It's not enough that she has a gaggle of children back home, but you had to bring another one with you to the camp? Oh cub, you and your own little cub are going to be the death of her.

If Halsin thinks he can hide them behind his bear form he better think twice, Jaheira isn't below putting the both of them in line if she has to.

She demands respect, and the kid definitely ends up giving it to her, begrudgingly or not. They understand she is the true form of authority in this camp and that they better do what she says and finish their chores.

They definitely see her as a grandma. She is secretly touched if they call her that but acts unaffected. She just doesn't want to let the kid down. She has to be strict because medicine never tastes sweet.

They remind her of her own kids backhome sometimes, she does get homesick a lot more with them around.

Shadowheart

No, she isn't emo. No, she isn't goth either. What is this kid talking about? They better know that worship of lady Shar is very sacred and not a passing phase she will grow out of.

You know how kids are overly curious and always ask these intrusive questions? Shadowheart is a magnet for that.

They just go up to her ,unannounced, and tell her about the recent camp news. She sips on her wine and gives the kid a glass of grape juice while they gossip.

Yes, she is a half elf. No, she is still as capable as an elf.

Wait, what did Astarion say about her? Really? Well, kid, thanks for being a snitch now. If you'd excuse her, she has urgent business to take care of.

She sees them and wonder if this is how her childhood was supposed to be like, if this is what she was missing out on all her life. Sometimes she can't help the burning envy at the back of her throat as she watches them be showered with love and care for simply existing.

But she doesn't let the bitterness get to her, not with how the kid looks at her in awe and admiration. She vows to be at least a decent example and not disappoint them.

Laezel

If left unattended, she will start a boot camp. Come one kid, get down, and give her 40 push-ups now.

What? She is just looking out for them. How else are they supposed to join the battlefield if they have no upper body strength?

Yes, the battlefield, why do you ask? Of course, she wants them in the front lines eventually. War is the perfect environment to raise a child, to make them strong and fast. You were very smart for bringing them here with you, she has to admit.

Bah, she scoofs at Karlach and Astarion's ways. It is a danger hazard at best. The kid needs to start with training equipment and not actual weapons. Her companions' lack of braincells does surprise her sometimes.

Well...she also does mention the fact that for them to graduate, they have to actually murder someone from the camp. You know, like how she murdered half her classmates when she was still in training.

She actually...does a good job at training them safely, she evaluates their weakness and strengths and gives them advice based on it on how to improve. She looks out for their well-being and shows them the most efficient way to end a fight.

But she's only joking? Right? Right???

Uh....did anyone see Gale??

Minthara

To put it in the nicest way possible, they are terrfied of her.

She thinks it's good because any sane person should be afraid of her. Frankly, she'd be concerned for a possibility of brain damage if they weren't.

They avoid her, and she barely pats an eye over it.

Although she was always the first to act whenever they were in danger, completely beheading the enemy with her sword before they could touch a hair on the kid. Still she doesn't care for the fact the child is drenched in blood and just saw someone get murdered.

She thinks they should get over it. The sooner, the better. Life is full of murder and blood, you'd be only dooming them if you don't let them see things for how they really are.

Drow culture for raising their children is very brutal, most of them die young and even the ones who do make it alive, don't live as long as the surface elves do.

Each drow carries deep scars from childhood, both on body and mind. Minthara wasn't the exception.

She tolerates your young out of respect for you. She tolerates what she deems as disobedience and disrespect from them.

You're not sure if they'll ever stop fearing her, but you also know that you can trust her to be there for them. To not hesitate a second in saving their flesh no matter what the cost is.

[perictione00]

She's a Man-eater

Chapter 3

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x reader

Warnings: MDNI, sub! gojo satoru, dom! reader, smut, death/massacre, age difference(7-years, reader is older), oral sex, riding, unprotected sex.

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

A contented smile adorned your lips as you looked around the room painted in the horrifying shades of vermilion. In the middle of the room sat a man masking his fears with a facade of courage and authority, still looking down on you. Even in the face of death, his urgent need to maintain his sense of superiority exposed just how pathetic he was. Just like you, he was also the victim of a flawed, biased system, but unlike you, he had decided to side with the conventional rules that favoured his journey up the hierarchy.

"You ungrateful whore! After everything I've done for you! You're not gonna get away with this! They're gonna come for you and every last fucking relative of yours," you scoffed. 

Seeing him clinging to the remnants of his false saviour mentality was unbearable. You wanted to strip him of his power, take away his hope, and force him to plead for your pardon and his life. You came to the realisation that there was nothing that 'you' needed to accomplish. Actually, all you had to do was relax and watch the spectacle.

Amused by what was going to happen to him, you circled around him. The open assassination of the superiors was an uncommon occurrence, and you wouldn't want to miss it. Really, it was a lot simpler than you might have thought. assembling them all in one location, but the cherry on top was that your hands weren't becoming filthy.

 To the man's dismay, the strongest sorcerer trailed closely behind you, his fingertips tracing a gentle route down your back while encircling you in his powerful hug. As he explored the smooth curves of your body and caressed the softness of your chest, you could feel the solid shapes of his toned abdomen pressing against you. He kissed your spine tenderly, pressing his forehead against your neck.

Satoru had experienced severe emotional anguish as a result of Geto Suguru's untimely demise. He had lost faith. Suddenly his progressive approach to changing the jujutsu society seemed powerless and meaningless. You had all your chess pieces in the perfect places, but he would never realise that you were the one who urged his best friend to launch a full-scale assault. You hoped for a complete breakdown of his mind. to watch him crumble so badly that he turns to you for emotional control. To transport him to a world where the shadows of immortality danced with the temptations of insanity.

You ruffled his hair, but as you’re about to pull your hand away, he snatches your hand again, moving it so that you’re caressing his cheek. 

A man's all-consuming love, is a powerful force that envelops both him and his desire. An unwavering, intense devotion, where every thought, every action, is shaped by the person he adores. His affection knows no limits, as he gives freely and boundlessly, willing to move mountains just to see them smile. Unaffected by flaws and unflinching in the face of adversity, providing devoted support, devotion, and a deep bond that surpasses everything, demonstrating that his love has no boundaries. That was the case of Gojo Satoru. At times you felt disgusted, ashamed with yourself for exploiting him, for shaping not only his choices but also his life. He loved you, but could you say that you loved him as much as he loved you?

"Is everything okay?" Gojo enquired as he observed your busy state of mind. He had killed almost every man in the building who associated themselves with the higher-ups. He knew there was no going back, not like he wanted to go back to how things were. He was content with the life he was going to build with you, for you.

"How should we kill this one? He called me a whore." You pouted, dismissing your thoughts.

"No! No—how can you support that woman? You're a clan leader! You can still save yourself; save me, and I'll vouch for you. Just blame everything on that bit-"

His neck was snapped before he could complete his sentence. Naturally, no one could say anything offensive about you and get away with it.

You said nothing. Instead, cradled his face, caressing him, until his eyelids fell shut and his lips parted ever so slightly. Upon opening his eyes, they appeared droopy. Gojo's smile is gentle as he guides your knuckles to his lips, pressing a tender kiss upon them. 

You didn't say anything, seeking solace in silence, and cradled his face instead, stroking him until his lips parted just enough and his eyelashes closed. You finally pressed your lips against his. A token of appreciation for his hard work. He opened his eyes, and they were drooping. With a soft smile, Gojo led your knuckles to his mouth and planted a gentle kiss on them. You stop him before he could continue his affectionate gestures. His complete devotion to you never failed to turn you on. So you threw him on a chair and held him in place with curses binding his hands. Curses he could easily exorcise with a snap of his fingers, but why would he do that?

You seductively pulled on the zipper of his pants, pulling out his semi-hard cock. The devastating surrounding of the dead bodies provided a sexy, forbidden environment for engaging in sexual activities. Unable to resist the urge to taste him, you engulfed his fat cockhead hungrily, milking him, savouring his taste. 

He was drawn closer to the edge as your tongue teased him by swirling over the delicate underside. With each movement, he seemed to get thicker, longer, and harder. As Gojo's hips jerked uncontrollably and he exclaimed loudly while his hands tightened in your hair, you dived back down and took him deeper into your mouth while relaxing your throat and consuming a large amount of him in a single fluid motion.

Gojo groaned aloud, quivering and sweating, as one of your hands began pumping him frantically while the other located and squeezed his constricted balls, trying to put more of him in my mouth but eventually stopping, only to let your dress fall to your legs by slipping its string-thin straps from your shoulders. After a brief pause, you carefully dropped your panties and stepped out of them.

"Aah fuck-baby, don't tease; lemme touch you." Gojo whimpered as he saw your dripping cunt.

"I want you to fuck me so hard that I feel nothing but you," you said as you aligned yourself on his cock and slid down in one smooth motion, moaning in relief.

The curses vanished, and he pulled you tighter against his body, his large hands laid flat on the back of your head and the small of your back. He tilted his head, pressed his lips together, and shaped them against yours, smothering you with the ferocity of his kiss. You were limp in his hands as his tongue repeatedly slammed against yours while you struggled to breathe.

He has his face shoved into the crook of your neck while his hands grip your legs, leaving marks, so he can shove himself deeper inside of you. His whimpers are so loud, and anyone alive around you would never think that he would lose himself whimpering, begging you to let him cum inside of you. 

Your moans mix in with his, creating a tune he never wants to forget. Moments like this he can’t help but fuck himself into overstimulation. He just loves the feeling of your warmth sucking him in, creating loud, wet noises to match his reckless thrust. His voice is shaky as he whimpers about how good your pussy feels. 

His hands gripped your legs, leaving marks, so he could push himself further inside of you while his face was pressed against the bend of your neck. His whimpers are so loud that anyone in your immediate vicinity would never believe that even the strongest could lose himself in the depth of a woman's warmth. 

He couldn't resist fucking himself into overstimulation in such situations. He simply adored how your warmth sucked him in, producing loud, wet sounds to go along with his rash thrust. 

As his hands push your thighs up, he rises up and presses you against the closest wall, folding you into a mating squeeze so he can see how flawless your pussy looks while sucking him in. The sight had him completely enthralled. The mess your pussy makes around his cock, which he swears he will clean up with his tongue.

"Fuck, baby...you feel amazing around me," Gojo said breathlessly.

"I would feel better with your kids inside me."

You said riling him up further.

"Oh god, you're gonna be the death of me." He said as his movements became swift and unsteady. The image drove me over the edge. His fingers made their way to your clit, and his lips to your tits, bringing you closer to your orgasm.

You arched your back, moving yourself in motion with his cock, lost in pleasure as Gojo kneaded with your boobs, teasing their hardness. 

"Fuck, don't stop—impregnate me, Satoru," you screamed, exploding into an insane orgasm, so intense, shaking your whole body, while Gojo kept fucking you. 

"Yeah, take me, take all of me," Gojo uttered as he thrust violently into you and came with a loud growl, his ropy strands decorating your squelching insides.

In the pool of blood and dead bodies, you both lay in the loving embrace of each other. Lost in one another's gaze, kissing, breathing in the seductive aroma of sex.

You wondered if you should truly let him into your heart. Did you find his devotion, loyalty, and love sufficient? Is he aware of how utterly broken you are? Given your propensity for manipulation, selfishness, and self-interest, would he still love you? Could he possibly justify what you did? Could he really understand you? Was his love merely a reflection of your intentional control over him, or does he truly love you? 

"Yes."

His declaration stopped your train of thought.

"Huh—"

“I love you more deeply than words can express, and I will love you even if it costs me everything—even my life. My love for you transcends this world; even in death, it will remain unwavering. Your love is the very essence of my being, the fuel of my existence, the fire that keeps me alive. Without it, I would cease to exist. Even if you toy with my heart, I will love you endlessly. So please, stop running from it. Stop running from me. Look at me, truly see me, like I see you. I am no longer the child you once knew. I have made my choice, and it is you—now and always. So, I beg you to choose me. Be with me. Marry me.”

His words, brimming with raw sincerity, pierced through the walls you had built over a lifetime of pain and loss. They awakened something within you—an ache for the love and devotion you had been denied for so long. The kind of love that could fill the emptiness left by a childhood stolen, by innocence shattered at the hands of those meant to protect you. Perhaps, for the first time, you could trust someone with your heart.

“I’ll marry you, Gojo Satoru,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both fear and hope.

As he waited, his sky-blue eyes searching yours for what he thought would be your final condition, you spoke again, your voice steady with conviction.

“Kill your father. Destroy every clan, every human, everyone who has caused me pain—your family, every last one of them. Do this, and I’ll be yours. We’ll be together. Forever.”

His gaze didn’t waver, his answer as sure and unwavering as the love he professed. 

“Anything for you, my one and only.”

Merry christmas everyone. It's been a long time. I hope y'all are doing good. Take care and happy holidays:)

[madridfangirl]

A Weekend in Ibiza - Part 2

(Jude Bellingham blurb)

(Part 1, Part 3, Part 4)

2.6k words. Jude*female reader. Suggestive language.

A/n - When we don't get Jude holiday content, we make shit up

.............................................................................

The cold shower calmed your nerves and cleared your head. The fog lifted from the brain, replaced with fury. 

That fucker, that assholic fucker, really thought he could play you like this? Just waltz into your peaceful space & bend you to his will?

What a sad, little life he lived if that’s the kind of people he was surrounded with. 

Oh, you were gonna show him his place. Real good.

What you did next shocked you. But propriety had gone out of the window the moment he turned this into a battle of wits, dragging you in as an unwilling participant.

Jude was done with Round 2 & was lounging on the deck when he heard his spare phone buzz. He lazily felt around the surface for his waist bag, too blissed out to move. The naked woman lying half on top of him, feeding him grapes was a factor too.

What he saw made him rub his eyes & sit upright. The woman whined at the interruption, which he barely registered.

‘Naa I am busy. Going snorkelling with this one.’ 

Attached was the back image of a man. A big, well built, shirtless, heavily muscular, glossy skinned, wet man. A surfer’s body. 

‘And who is he?’

‘Met him on the beach just now. Said he wanted to show me a few things. Am gonna let him.’

That was a sucker punch to the gut that he didn’t see coming.

‘You are bluffing.’

‘Yeah? Want me to send you a pic after? Don’t think we’ll find a bed but a remote island maybe?’

He called you. Disconnected in the first ring. He called again. Same result.

‘Don’t do this. It’s not safe.’

‘I am a big girl, I can handle myself.’

‘What happened to the no casual sex policy?’

‘A girl can change her mind. CERTAINLY for a guy like that.’

‘Rubbish - he looks OLD.’

‘Word you are looking for is experienced. A MAN, not some little boy fresh out of his teens.’

‘Look, I’ll stop if you stop.’

‘Never asked you to stop. Never asked you for ANYTHING. Infact, I explicitly told you to go with the woman throwing herself at you.’

‘HE WONT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH YOU.’

‘I’ll find out soon, won’t I? Hope he likes my new swimsuit.’

Jude resisted the urge to throw his phone in the water. The woman looked at him curiously as he paced around the deck.

Confrontation wasn’t helping his case, so he changed tact.

‘Listen, we got off on a non-ideal note. I can see that. But we can talk this through. I’ll come back right now, yeah? Just give me like 15 mins.’

‘1) The world does not revolve around you 2) Actions have consequences 3) Chris is waiting & I am going to him now. Will be MIA for a few hours. Bye.’

Jude called again. You didn’t pick up. He left one final, desperate message.

‘Please don’t do this. I am sorry. You can get back at me in other ways. Please.’

You smiled victoriously as you looked at his plea. Two please and a sorry in one sentence. Ergo, mission accomplished. Who knew a picture of Chris Hemsworth in your gallery would come in so handy one day. Oh, the benefits of thirsting.

Putting your phone on airplane mode (to let him stew further), you got under the covers, still in your bathrobe, and drifted off to a peaceful afternoon nap.

Complete contradiction to his state.

Jude was struggling to wrap his head around what just happened. And why it was bothering him so much. He stripped to his briefs and jumped in the cool, crystal blue water. To erase the images plaguing his mind. Of you in your swimsuit. Of you and that horny geriatric fucker.

At one point he even looked around the water, trying to look for the snorkelling spots. Then cursed himself for being reduced to that. 

The current was brisk, numbing him enough to think straight. All wasn’t lost. Not yet. He just needed to come up with a better move. A different move. Coz you were different, it had been well established. The rebuttal did bruise his ego, he admitted to himself, but he was still sure he wasn’t wrong in sensing your attraction. It just needed the right nudge to bring you to him.

He emerged from the water, enthused again, and the woman rushed to him, offering to help him de stress & unwind from whatever was bothering him. Jude was never gonna pass up on a quick head in the loo. As he thrusted into her mouth, he found himself wishing it to be you.

If only you had been that easy. But then, the chase won’t be as fun, the anticipation not as deep. Plus he was certain your affections couldn’t be gained from fame, money or expensive gifts. You’d probably throw them in his face if he attempted that. 

He wondered if things would be different if you knew who he was. That there was a different side to him too. An idea struck him then, right at the peak of his orgasm.

You woke up after 3 long blissful hours, stretching your limbs, still burrowed under the covers, and put your phone off airplane mode.

One message from him, from an hour ago.

‘Atleast tell me you are back safely.’

The change in tone did not go unnoticed and you figured this merited a response. 

‘Just got done. Exhausted. Gonna sleep it off now.’

Letting the innuendo hang in the air, you ordered your evening cappuccino & croissant, enjoying them in your private balcony overlooking the waters. And played your favourite music, as you watched the evening sun cast patterns in the sky. Splurging for this room was turning out to be a great decision after all.

Curiosity got the better of you then, and you succumbed to googling him, to know more about this ridiculous/ridiculously handsome creature.

When you looked, you prayed you hadn’t. The guy wasn’t just atrociously hot, but he was many other things. Damn good at his day job (excellence at work was your primary turn-on). Well spoken & articulate (wtf happened to him today then?). Wholesome with his family (your number 2 turn-on). Unbelievably amazing with kids (you could jump from the balcony right now with the number of boxes he was ticking). And just generally affable & affectionate to everyone around.

You scrolled & scrolled through countless reels, & wondered which was the real him. The dickhead he was this morning or this angelic creature loved by all & sundry? Everyone seemed to swear by him. Did you catch him on a bad day then? Or was this a carefully crafted public persona to fool the world?

You kept going back to that one video with kids, which was melting your insides. 

That, and another one with him being abrasive on the pitch, picking up fights. Some would have called it cocky, and it was, but it was also inexplicably hot? Knee-wobbling hot? It was the same cockiness he had this morning but that had put you off. This video, though, was making your head spin. Giving him a power you never wished for him to have over you. And his body, oh god that body, plus the way he carried that attitude. 

You quickly threw the phone away, hoping you weren’t in too deep already. Consciously reminding yourself what an entitled prick he had been and how furious it had made you.

Needing an immediate distraction, you called home & listened to your 4 year old nephew babble for a good 30 mins. And your mom telling you all the news from back home for another 30 mins. 

Dinner was the next distraction. You took your time in picking a delicacy, settled on paella, a glass of wine and put on a comfort movie on Netflix as you enjoyed your dinner in bed. For some reason, you were avoiding going outside.

It was 10 pm, the sun had finally set making it feel like night time. No more messages from him since the last one to check on you. Which was a good thing. Which is what you wanted. Right? 

Yes, of course. Finally you were rid of him. He must be out, doing something, or someone. Far far away from you.

A quick look at his Insta won’t hurt, would it? It would just confirm his whereabouts, so you can finally be at peace, away from him.

One new post. From 2 hours ago. Captioned ‘Making memories’. A bunch of pics from his day - sunbathing at the yacht, lunch with friends, frolicking in the water & sun-set. Carefully avoiding any hint of the women she knew were a part of his entourage. Just the guy friends made it to post, making you roll your eyes loudly.

When you reached the last pic though, you did a double take. For the second time today, the glass nearly dropped from your hands.

The pic had a glass of wine, and a tissue paper next to it. You could tell it was the same tissue they had used to exchange notes - it was in a blurred background, difficult to spot for others but you could make out your handwriting. And his.

Tagged to it was a song - Can’t we start over again.

You questioned your grip on reality as you read the lyrics of the song.

I know I’ve caused you pain.

Took you for granted.

I’ve been such a fool.

Can’t we start over again?

What the holy fuck was this? What in the name of god was he playing at?

Half-mad, half dazed, you quickly dialled his number. It rang & rang for eternity, he picked up on the last ring.

‘Missed me?’

It just hit you that you were hearing his voice for the first time. It was deeper & huskier than you had imagined. But you quickly regained control of the situation.

‘Are you mad? Are you totally completely mad?’

‘Saw the post, huh?’

‘Damn right I did. Seriously, what were you thinking? What if your horde of fans put two & two together? What if people start assembling here to inquire? God, what if people find that waiter? Jude, what did you do?’

You started to hyperventilate, pacing around the room.

‘Ok. Take a deep breath & listen to me, yeah? No one knows we are talking, not even my friends. The waiter I tipped handsomely to forget about what happened. The note is blurred, no one can make out what’s written other than you & me. All others will see is just a glass of wine on a holiday. And a reminiscing song which can be for anyone. Or maybe they’ll think I am drunk. There is zero way to trace it back to you. Heck, even I don’t know your name yet. So relax. I won’t compromise your privacy when you made it clear how important that was to you.’

His soothing voice, coupled with unassailable logic, calmed you instantly. You could almost laugh at how you had overreacted. Almost. You weren’t gonna tell him that.

‘Are you with me?’

‘Umm yeah, guess you are right.’

You could hear music blaring in the background. He must be out partying at some club when you rudely interrupted him. You were about to ask him to go back to what he was doing before he chimed in.

‘So, did you have fun today?’

You rolled your eyes at his roundabout attempt to ask what he really wanted to ask. Well, two can play this game.

‘Oh yeah. Great day, super relaxing, after a long time.’

‘Ended too quickly, no?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Well, if you were with me, no way we would be done in just 3 hours. No way you would be alone tonight, checking out another man online.’

He had just shown you how you were an amateur in the game he was a pro in. Honestly, you hadn’t even anticipated this line of thought. But clearly he had. In the same way he knew you would check him out online. Damn him, to the moon & back.

‘Told you he looked geriatric. Did he even…?’

‘Shut up. Shut the fuck up. Not another word on this.’

Your breath was laboured by now. What gave you solace was that his was ragged at the other end too. He wasn’t unaffected either. Both were silent for a bit. He broke it eventually. 

‘I meant what I said in the post. Shouldn’t have done what I did. Not to you. Wasn’t really thinking straight.’

‘Not to ANYONE.’

He had the good sense to stay quiet and not point out that it worked with others.

‘Yes. Can we get past it? I feel like I have been rejected enough for one day.’

You couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling, & he caught the shift in your mood.

‘Maybe.’

Now that was a window he didn’t think he was gonna get. And was extremely pleased with himself for getting here.

‘I’ll take that. Now, you know damn well I want you. And I know you are thinking about me too. Don’t start denying it, that wasn’t a question. Why are you fighting this, baby?’

Again he was cutting straight to the chase. This time though, it didn’t annoy you. It made you nervous, as you twisted & turned in your bed.

‘I told you why.’

You said softly, surprised at the tone of your voice.

‘Let me come over there & change your mind.’

‘I..I don’t know, Jude.’

He gripped a nearby pole harshly at the way his name sounded in your voice. 

‘Tell me, do I make you nervous?’

The accent was thicker now, making him even sexier. Making you bury your head in the pillow.

‘The situation makes me nervous.’

‘But me too?’

A pregnant pause. Then, a faint whisper.

‘Yes.’

‘I won’t do anything you aren’t ready for - trust me. Heck, knowing you, you’d probably kick me out naked if I try anything like that.’

You sighed into the pillow, and had no idea what these sounds were doing to him.

‘Aren’t you curious? Haven’t you pictured us together in bed, naked & wrapped around each other? Coz that’s all I have been doing since morning.’

‘Jude….please..’

‘Think of it as an adventure, yeah? A weekend in Ibiza that both of us would remember. We are wasting precious time, baby girl. Please, just please let me come to you right now & show you a good time.’

He had laid all his cards on the table, and waited for your response. Like it was judgement day.

You breathed heavily into the pillow, as you arrived at your decision.

‘Not tonight.’

‘WHAT?’

‘Not tonight.’

You could hear him breathe raggedly at the other end.

‘So, tomorrow then?’

‘I…don’t know, not yet.’

‘You are seriously gonna leave me hanging like this?’

‘I am sure you can find ways to distract & humour yourself in the meantime.’

More heavy breathing from him.

‘Are you a professional torturer of some kind? If not, you are in the wrong line.’

‘Thanks for the suggestion, I will think about it. Now, go back to your party.’

‘HANG ON. Are you for real?’

‘Very much. Now, be a good boy & let me think, yes? Bye, Jude.’

You blew a kiss into the phone & disconnected it, leaving him squirming & stunned at the other end.

................................................................................................

Hoping and praying this delivered the tension & takedown you all so vociferously wanted :))

There will be a Part 3 and I swear it will have smut 😂

Feel free to drop in your asks / suggestions for the next chapter - I moulded this chapter on the overwhelming sentiment in the asks :)

[blitziwitchwrites]

pairing: gym teacher!toji fushiguro x reader

content tags/warnings: age gap (reader is eighteen but still in high school, toji is late 30s), teacher/student, smut, oral (m receiving), overstimulation, dumbification, piv sex, virgin!reader and experienced!toji, taboo sex

author’s note: idk why i find this hot guys, but i’m sorry i dooooo…. obviously don’t do this in real life guys but thank god for fiction.

—————

imagining gym teacher!toji who can’t help but stare at the quiet secretly athletic girl in his new high school seniors class…

gym teacher!toji who had never looked at a younger girl once in his life and was always appalled at the thought of being attracted to someone younger than him, much less someone his son’s age and his own student.

gym teacher!toji who saw you coming in on the first day of the new school year and saw you walking up the gym bleachers with your headphones on and your backpack secured over your shoulders, your head down and lost in your own little world, and had to take a double take for the first time in his life.

gym teacher!toji who was more quiet during opening day orientation, with the rest of his co-gym teachers, than he ever had been in his whole career. while he was usually right up front, helping go over the rules and expectations of the gym period, this time he was in the back, standing away from the giant screen with the google slides presentation as he watched you, noticing you just doodling in one of your notebooks with one ear exposed and one ear still covered by your headphones.

gym teacher!toji who felt his heart leap when the gym teachers started to assign squad spots and he saw you were in his class. he watched you walking down the bleachers as he called your name, before you tripped over your own feet and tumbled down the bleaches. gym teacher!toji who immediately stepped forward to catch you before you could hit the ground, only for his heart to skyrocket to his throat at the way you grabbed his biceps to help catch yourself, his large and beefy arms secured around you, his hands on your back as your face bumps into his chest from the collision. his face turns red when you look up at him, giggling nervously with a bright pink, mortified face before you quickly let him go and quickly apologize and rush to sit in your squad spot.

gym teacher!toji who watched you walk to his line the following day in class to get your locker lock and combination so you can pick your last gym locker for the school year. when you approached him for the lock, he just stared at you at first, unsure what to say, before he realizes he was staring when he notices you anxiously fidgeting your hands. quickly, perhaps harsher than intended, he silently signs off on your locker lock and jots down your locker combination before quickly ushering you away, his nerves getting the best of him.

gym teacher!toji who watches you on your first day of actual class, which is just an ordinary game of dodgeball because it is friday, and watches you standing in the back with several of the other girls. however, you’re standing on the other side of the gym, away from the rest of the girls who seem to keep pointing over at you and laughing while you stare straight ahead.

gym teacher!toji who swats a dodgeball away from him when it comes flying towards him, the ball hitting one of the girls in their back. while normally toji would just apologize and let her stay in the game, this time he tells her to go to the outline, because if maybe she’d been paying attention or even attempted to catch the ball, he would let her stay in the game. gym teacher!toji who feels a small sense of accomplishment when you giggle as the girl glares at you on her way out, but only feels prouder when a ball comes flying towards you and you catch it, much to toji’s surprise.

gym teacher!toji who watches as you throw a ball, taking one of the boys on the other side of the gym out, resorting in the boy stomping off while his friends keep attempting to target you now and pelt the ball at you, only for you to successfully dodge the balls that come flying at you. however, gym teacher!toji prepares to blow his whistle and tell one of the boys to sit out when they suddenly shout that you’re a ‘bitch’, only for you to catch the ball they threw at you and pelt it at the boy’s face, knocking him on the ground and giving him a nasty bloody nose.

gym teacher!toji who is quite proud of you, but has to send you to the principal’s office and the boy to the nurse. luckily, due to the nature of the incident, the principal talks to you and lets you walk back to gym class so you can change out of your uniform and get your stuff and go get on the busses before they leave. however, you go back only to find out that all of the women gym teachers have left, locking up the locker room, until you see toji leaving the boy’s locker room and run up to him, begging him to let you inside the girl’s locker room, just so that you can change and get your stuff and go home…

gym teacher!toji who agrees, unlocking the locker room as long as you promise to be quick, before sitting and waiting in the office as you quickly go to your locker to get yourself together. 

gym teacher!toji who tries so hard not to be a pervert, and has never had such an urge before, but can’t help yet peak out the office door when you’re changing, your back to him as you strip down to your navy blue bra and light gray panties, clearly an unmatching set because you had zero intention of having anyone see you like this anyway. however, he quickly looks away when he notices you moving, turning to wait in the office for you to be done, sitting in one of his co-worker’s chairs and bouncing his leg, trying to ease the growing tent in his pants, singing random songs in his head to try and calm himself. twinkle twinkle, little star…

gym teacher!toji who jumps when you poke your head into the office, letting him know you’re done. he then watches you come into the office, fidgeting your hands, beginning to apologize again for falling him on the first day… and then hitting that boy in the face with the dodge ball again… and insists that he’s the first teacher to ever seem to not like her, but that she is going to work on it.

gym teacher!toji who, somehow, ended up with a pretty eighteen year old girl on her knees between his legs, his throbbing cock buried deep in her throat no more than a few minutes later, to try and earn his approval. gym teacher!toji who rakes his fingers through your hair, brushing your hair out of her face, before pushing your head down lower, letting his cock hit the back of your throat as he praises you, insisting you’re his favorite student and he’s so proud of you!

gym teacher!toji who shows you just how much he likes you when he unloads himself in your throat, watching it dribble down your chin, and then quickly pushes you up, discarding the pants you had just put on and tossing your soaked panties behind him, revealing your cute virgin pussy that is dripping with arousal, and he’s still fucking hard, if not more now.

gym teacher!toji who coos down to you, lovingly stroking your cheek and wiping your pleasure-driven tears with his thumb as they pour down your cheeks while he pushes his massive cock inside your virgin pussy, taking his time and being slow as he stretches you out because his favorite student earned it. gym teacher!toji who shoves his fingers in your mouth to muffle your cries when he speeds up, your gushy and gummy pussy squeezing the everloving life out of his swollen cock as it pummels in and out of you, a puddle of your fluids dripping onto the desk beneath you. 

gym teacher!toji who pulls his fingers out of your mouth and wraps them around your throat, the sound of skin slapping filling the girls locker room office as his tip begins to hit right against your cervix, which is kissing and slobbering all over him as you start to babble as you hit your nth orgasm, the orgasms flooding and flooding your brain and the desk each time, this man with so much experience causing you to see stars as he kisses away your tears and insists he’s liked you since the moment he laid his eyes on you, and he was so proud of you today, calling you a good girl over and over and over again and praising you before he finally blows his load inside of you, his sticky cum flooding your overstimulated walls as you cum again and milk his cock completely dry.

gym teacher!toji who slowly pulls out of you, seeing his cum dribbling out of your tiny, abused, red hole and onto his co-worker’s desk, scooping the mess with his fingers and plunging them in your mouth, telling you to taste how much he likes you.

gym teacher!toji who helps you get dressed and sneaks you out of the gym locker room, before driving you home in his car discreetly because you way missed the bus, dropping you off at your house- thank god your parents aren’t home- but not without kissing you goodbye first and giving you his phone number before pressing his finger to his lips and whispering out a soft shhhhh and then slipping out the door.

gym teacher!toji who watches you more than ever the following day as you move around the gym class, clearly struggling to walk due to your sore legs because of how hard you got fucked yesterday, before standing a little closer to you than normal when he finally insists you sit out, and he won’t take points, because… he’ll just punish you later in his own special way.

—————

masterlist! not proofread. please do not copy, steal, repost, and/or translate. copyright protected by blitziwitchwrites.

[lovecoremarbs]

Dramatics

fandom: pressure (roblox)

prompt: sebastian solace/reader

words: 1,427

summary: Sebastian needs something to wear to bed, luckily you have just the thing...

A big, baggy Hello Kitty T-Shirt.

notes: Sebastian Solace ILYYYY!!!

I wrote this as a way to hc Seb as Demiromantic, never really experiencing romance with anyone before.

I have more Pressure fics in the works for the big fish bf! >:3

“I am NOT wearing that…” 

You laughed softly, handing Sebastian a large T-shirt that had a Hello Kitty face printed on it. And to top it off, the shirt was bright pink. An eyesore to be sure, or at least that’s what Seb thought. 

“Oh come on! It’s the biggest t-shirt I have and it’s comfortable! Much more comfortable than your usual outfit, and besides it’s not like you’ll be in public for anyone to see you in it.” 

That… Was true. No way the world could handle a giant fish monster roaming the streets, luckily your home was out in the middle of the woods, away from civilization and more importantly, nosy people. 

Still, Sebastian had a little bit of dignity left and he wanted to keep it intact. 

“That might be, but look at it! It’s practically burning my retinas!” He held the shirt out in disgust as you handed it to him, acting like it was going to murder him if he wore it. 

“You are so dramatic, it’s not gonna kill you Seb.” You laughed again, grabbing spare pillows and blankets from the linen closet, making your bed up for the two of you. You didn’t really have a big enough couch for him so sharing the bed is what you came up with. 

“Besides it’s just to bed, after you wake up I’ll have your normal clothes cleaned and ready for you!” With the laundry basket in your hand, you walked into the laundry room with his damp clothes from the escape of the Hadal Blacksite you two had accomplished, setting it on top of the washing machine so you could clean them in the morning. 

Sebastian grunted, looking down at the shirt in his clawed hands. It was… Soft. Even he would admit that, definitely softer than the rags he would wear throughout the blacksite. 

He slithered his way towards your bathroom, thank God for your high ceilings. Closing the door behind him, he sighed heavily. It was way too late to go clothes shopping so he would have to wait until the next day for clothing that fit his standards, this was his only option if he wanted to sleep comfortably for once.

Sleep was never fond of Sebastian, always making sure he had the same recurring nightmares throughout the night. Waking up in a colder sweat as his mind made him remember the horrific memories of Urbanshade’s experiments in his slumber.

But it’s been a bit different since you entered his life, he still remembers that day you crawled through the tiny vent to his shop. 

Of course he was every bit as hostile with you as he was with every other expendable that came through that God forsaken place. He thought you were no different from the others, and why should he have not? He had his reasons to. 

The other expendables constantly flashed him with their flash beacons, some even knowing that it hurt his eyes and did it anyways just for sick laughs. The worst is when they would try to climb him, although they never really got far as Sebastian would put an end to that real fast. 

But you… You were different, you never really did any of those horrible things. He wondered if it even crossed your mind at all throughout all the pleasant questions you asked like how was he doing that day.

it even seemed as if you would purposely die just to see him again, something he thought was laughable at first but he later would warm up to your company, waiting for you after death to see you and your stupid, but loveable face each time. 

Sebastian’s thoughts were interrupted by your voice from the other side of the bathroom door, “Everything alright in there Seb?” Only you could call him that.

“Yeah, just peachy. I’ll be out in a second.” He looked back down at the t-shirt as you walked away, it was so… You. 

He didn’t know how to explain it but in a way, it was cute, in a way. Nauseatingly so but still cute.

it showed your interests and it reminded him so much of you. 

He rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. That was an idiotic thought, it was yours after all. Of course it would remind him of you. 

He slipped on the t-shirt over his head, putting his arms through the holes and was surprised to see that there was a third hole cut out for his other arm. 

He blinked in surprise, you… Ruined one of your shirts just so he could wear it?

The sentiment sent butterflies through his stomach, making him groan in slight disgust at how mushy he was being. You made him so lovey-dovey inside, making his insides gooey whenever you did stuff like this for him. He absolutely hated it.

Well, that was a lie that he told himself over and over. He didn’t hate it per say, it was just overwhelming at times. 

Like now, he could feel his cold-blooded body heat up at the thought of you, just… You. 

He shook his head and leaned against the bathroom sink, he had never felt this way for anyone before.

These feelings, they weren’t just overwhelming…

They were suffocating.

Sebastian hated feelings, he liked to just push them off and focus on roaming the blacksite and pick up whatever research or items he came across.

But he couldn’t do that anymore, he was living with you now. 

You were unavoidable at this point, but he liked that.

What were you doing to him…?

Sebastian sighed, mentally prepared himself to face you again and slithered right back out of your now shared bathroom. 

He came out to see you already nestled in bed, pillows and blankets surrounding you on your side like you were in some kind of nest.

He couldn’t help but scoff and laugh, you looked ridiculous, even more so than him. 

“Hey! It’s comfy, and you have to sleep here too so don’t make fun of me, unless you want to sleep on the floor!” Crossing your arms, you pointed to the carpet below your bed.

“Alright! Alright. I’ll stop.” He smiled and he sat on the edge of your bed, looking back at you. 

You couldn’t help but smile and laugh back, he really did look ridiculous in the shirt. Even it was too big for him. It rested lopsided on his body, exposing one of his shoulders.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up. You’re the one who ruined a t-shirt for me, luckily putting this thing out of its misery after tonight.” 

You laughed more, patting the spot next to you as you gestured to him to lay down with you, “C’mon ya big softy, we had a tiring day today. You need to rest.”

Sebastian jumped slightly, “Ah, r-right…” 

Sleep, his mortal nemesis. 

Luckily, he would have you by his side like back in his shop when he needed to sleep back then.

You would curl up in his tail and let him rest his head on your lap as he tried his best to get some good rest.

Of course, he was hesitant the first time, but it became a sort of routine whenever you would come into his shop after that. 

This time, it would be a bit different as you were actually sleeping on a bed. Knowing this, Seb tried his best to get comfortable.

He tried to keep his distance from you at first, making sure he gave you as much room as possible. He knew he was big, probably too big for the king-sized bed so he tried his best not to push you off. 

He hung his tail off the bed whilst looking up at the ceiling fan, oh God this was hard. He hadn’t slept in an actual bed in years… 

You could sense his discomfort, sitting up as you sighed and smiled. “Come on, let's get into position…”

He knew exactly what you meant, curling up into a ball whilst you laid in his tail, resituating your little nest of pillows and blankets. 

He took one look at you and the damn Hello Kitty t-shirt once more before smiling and closing his eyes, letting sleep take him and hopefully it being a peaceful slumber this time.

The next morning, you expected the t-shirt to be thrown in the garbage but surprisingly? No, he kept it on, and every night he wore it to bed with you. 

Him and that damn Hello Kitty shirt.

[writingnightmare]

A/n: I think I might write a follow up to this, but I’m not sure. Fukuzawa is a character that always just draws me in, I didn’t even mean for it to be this long.

─── ✶ ───

Characters: Main - Yukichi Fukuzawa | Background - Ranpo Edogawa, Akiko Yosano, Doppo Kunikida

Content summary: Yukichi and office staff!reader [fem] slowly catch feelings for each other, Ranpo catches on and decides to play wingman with Yosano.

Warnings: None!

Tags: [SFW], Light![Fluff]

Word count: 1.9k

─── ✶ ───

The Butterflies of Affection - Yukichi Fukuzawa x Reader

𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎.

─────────── =ᗢ= ───────────

Denial was not something you associated with yourself. You were logical, organised, professional, you prided yourself on your work.

The first time you truly noticed it, you were ferrying important paperwork to your boss, low heels clicking across the floor as you hauled the mammoth mound of paperwork. He watched subtly, metallic blue eyes peering through his hair every few moments as he wrote on the document before him, the actions going unnoticed by you. You laid the paper onto his desk, before hurrying away once more, ready to collect the remainder of the pile, before his voice stopped you.

“Y/N, don’t rush.” It was only a few words, but the fact he took a moment to ensure you weren’t overburdening yourself was touching. You paused, glancing back with a light smile directed at the man, nodding slightly.

“It’s no bother sir, I’ll be back with the second half in a moment.” He nodded, looking back to his paperwork as you made your way back into the office. Fukuzawa had never been unpleasant to you at any stage, if anything, he was exceptionally kind, even if he was a man of few words. You grew to enjoy his quiet company, finding comfort in the silence.

As you walked back into the office, he looked up at you once more, the corner of his mouth pulling up in an ever so subtle smile; if you hadn’t known the man for over two years, you would have missed it. You set down the papers once more, meeting his eyes with a sense of accomplishment. “I have the case files organised by completion date as you requested, instead of by detective. Hopefully that makes it a bit easier for you sir- oh! And before I forget, I did some light editing to Dazai’s work, just in regard to spelling.” He hummed, giving a slight nod in acknowledgement.

“Y/n, thank you. I appreciate the work you do greatly.” There it was, that childish giddiness you had been feeling recently around the man. You were too old to be feeling such things, you were simply appreciative of his acknowledgement. Yes, that’s all it was. Sure, you had been noticing how your heart sped up every time he offered a small smile, or how every compliment he gave felt like it meant so much more to you, but that was simply because he was your boss after all. Everyone got nervous with their boss, it was completely normal.

In spite of shoving the feeling to the depths of your mind, they seemed to become ever more present in your work life.

“Ranpo, you really must eat something,” you insisted, collecting the glass bottles that littered the Lead Detective’s desk as he spun on his chair. His glasses frames sat proudly on his face as he spiralled into a whirlwind of thoughts, legs crossed and face focused.

“I don’t want to eat, I want a good case,” he whined, leaning back in exasperation, his head tipping backwards and hat dropping onto the floor. You smiled lightly, observing the boy affectionately. You walked to the bin, letting the bottles clatter into it, their clinking sounding almost pretty, despite the boy groaning behind you. “Everything has been so boring lately, Y/n.”

“It can’t be helped, sometimes life slows down unexpectedly in this city, you know that.” He grumbled, knowing full well that you were right, but still. It did nothing to quell the devastating boredom he was experiencing, nor the annoyance he felt. “But if you don’t eat soon, you’ll feel particularly unwell, and then you won’t be able to solve the interesting cases when they do come back around.”

“She has a point, Ranpo.” You looked up at the unexpected voice, blinking in surprise as Fukuzawa moved into the room. “You must look after yourself.”

“But I-“

“Come, I will buy you lunch,” he stated, causing the black haired detective’s eyes to spark up brightly. His head snapped up, a slight smile on his face at the offer. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. No matter what Fukuzawa had offered, or how much of it, Ranpo would always get excited at anything the man gave him. You were aware of their close bond, but seeing the boy’s reactions in person simply made it much more evident.

“Can we get donuts?”

“That isn’t enough to sustain you,” he lectured, drawing an overdramatic groan from Ranpo, but the boy jumped up anyway, walking towards the door.

“I guess,” he drawled out, before glancing back at you, looking between yourself and the President. “Are you coming, Y/n?” You shook your head, smiling as you turned to face him.

“I have a lot of work to do unfortunately, and I’d hate to fall behind.” Ranpo simply looked at Fukuzawa, who was staring intently at you, before shrugging.

“Y/n, you should come,” he stated, arms crossed in front of his body. Happiness bloomed at his offer, but you quickly pushed it down, swallowing as you laughed lightly, waving him off. He seemed to slowly be becoming more relaxed around you, but his face gave nothing away either way.

“While I would love to, I really shouldn’t-“

“You are ahead on your workload, I insist you join us.” And that was how you ended up joining the pair on lunch, hands clasped in front of your form. The pair indulged in lunch together regularly, at least twice a week Fukuzawa would usher Ranpo out of the office, insisting he eat something more than candy. Occasionally your coworkers would join them, but you could never find time to join yourself, head buried in paperwork no matter who nagged you. The fact that Fukuzawa had managed to convince you seemed to be a miracle in of itself.

Over time, it became a recurring theme at the agency, the detectives watching as Fukuzawa walked into the office, lips turned upwards with the smallest hint of a smile. It was the same thing twice a week, insisting you take a break, you’d done more than enough after all, and you could never find it in yourself to say no. It wasn’t exactly a secret that the pair of you were fond of each other, the space between you both seeming to grow ever closer as days turned to weeks, then months.

The small touch you left on his shoulder when you delivered the case files, the way his eyes seemed to be ever so slightly more gentle when he spoke to you, it didn’t take long for Ranpo to catch on to the changes in both parties behaviours. He sat at his desk, chewing on a piece of candy as Kunikida worked intensely at his desk, Yosano sorting the files of her latest case. He stared at you both through the doorway, ankles crossed as he leant back on his hands.

“You see it too, right?” Yosano looked up, following Ranpo’s eyes. Her purple eyes landed on your smiling form, desperately clutching onto your files and folders as Fukuzawa spoke. His voice was too hushed to hear in the office, but she could quickly tell what was happening in the scene unfolding before her. The way the president reached over, gripping onto the ends of the paperwork in your arms, lightly trying to pull it from your grasp. Amusement danced across his features at your obvious protests, your voice also hushed as you tried to maintain your ownership of the folders. “They’re behaving differently.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen the President so… light hearted,” she added, drawing Kunikida’s attention as she grinned. She looked over at Ranpo, eyebrow raised as the man hummed, deep in thought. “What’s your thoughts, Ranpo?”

“They’re clearly experiencing affection for each other,” he observed clinically, drawing a light laugh from the Doctor.

“It appears so.”

“You think? I don’t see it,” Kunikida muttered, adjusting his glasses.

“You don’t? He’s in there every second day, inviting her for lunch, not accepting a no. I can’t recall the last time the President was so…persistent. And you should see how she looks at him when she brings in his documents. I’ve never seen her look that way at any of us,” she stated, Kunikida humming in acknowledgement as he sat back.

“Actually, now that you mention it, the President thought she was sick last week. When he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone go so red before. I just figured Y/n was sick from overworking herself…”

Ranpo’s mind was settled on that day. If you two would interact like such at work, but never see each other out of work, he would simply have to ensure it happened.

One day Ranpo stopped Fukuzawa and yourself at the elevator, sucking on a lollipop as he stared at the man, face blank. Yosano and Kunikida watched on from a few metres behind him, intrigued by the apparent stand off.

“I’m not coming today,” he stated plainly, watching as Fukuzawa raised his eyebrows in silent question. Ranpo shrugged, turning his head away as your brow pinched in confusion, eyes dancing his form in concern.

“Are you feeling okay, Ranpo,” you asked lightly, drawing his eyes back.

“I don’t feel well, isn’t that right, Yosano,” he called, twisting the candy in his mouth. Fukuzawa’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, observing the man curiously. His complexion was fine, his behaviour was normal, and he certainly wasn’t loudly announcing his complaints of his illness as he normally would do. Why would he lie about such a thing?

Yosano nodded, hurrying over with a smile, more than willing to assist her close colleague’s plan. “Yes, he’s caught a stomach bug, it’s a shame,” she stated, standing behind Ranpo. Your brow pinched further, perplexed by their behaviour. Fukuzawa clocked onto them quickly, a quiet sigh leaving him, but a smile gracing his lips nonetheless.

“I see, well that’s okay, we can go tomorrow-!”

“No, you should definitely go today,” Yosano stated, ushering you both into the open elevator. You tried to protest, but were merely silenced by their goodbyes and the closing doors. You stood there for a moment in silence, feeling the elevator shift underneath you, before Fukuzawa broke the quiet air.

“If you would still like to, I’d more than enjoy to have lunch with you, Y/n,” he offered, watching as you looked back quickly, face flushed and expression tentative at his offer. He was calm as ever, but you could spot a hint of colour near the tips of his ears.

“I wouldn’t wish to make you uncomfortable, sir. As your employee it would be rather improper of me, and I wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression,” you rambled, but he only hummed as the doors opened, his hand resting on the small of your back to guide you out. You swore the butterflies that bloomed under his touch would surely be the death of you.

“What do you mean by the wrong impression?” You paused for a moment, collecting your words carefully before you spoke, the man waiting patient as ever.

“Well, it may appear as a date to onlookers, and I wouldn’t want to tarnish your name.”

“Well yes, it would be a date. I would hope it would appear as such. If you are so inclined to join me.” You stood there, processing his words, a genuine smile on his lips as he waiting once more. His presence was never pressuring for you, if anything, it only made you feel more comfortable as you laughed lightly, the situation clicking in your mind.

“Well, in such case I would love to join you sir.”

“Please, called me Yukichi.”

Songs I listened to whilst writing:

[𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞 - 𝐂𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐲]

1:03 ──⚬──── 3:45

⇆ ◃◃ ıı ▹▹ ↻

[messyhairedhazeleyeddude]

┊┊ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. Aϝϝliƈƚiσɳ ┊┊ཻུ۪۪

彡 A Yandere!Gojo Satoru x Cursed!Male!Reader | SMUT 彡

＊ Contents ; Obsession, stalking, masturbation, masochism, kind of non-con sleep blowjob, rough sex, murder, handjobs, and worshipping.

＊ Dynamic ; Soft Yandere/Admirer to Lover

＊ Sexual Dynamic ; Sub!Gojo Satoru | Dom!Male!Reader

＊ P.O.V ; Third

＊ Age Range ; 18+ (This is younger Gojo by the way.)

＊ Music suggestion ;

┌──────── • ✧ • ────────┐

Satoru was a man of many. Intelligent, charming, unserious, and funny; he had no problem with meeting people outside and inside of school. Rather, he had quite a bit of friends, set up the day he was born with everything he needed for a social life. Handsome, strong, and labeled better than everyone else. That was him. And he knew this very well.

It was no secret that he took advantage of it. In his spare time, Gojo was known for hooking up with various women and men like it was some sort of fun game where he needed to collect as many bodies as he could. Just to be on top of the ‘Who’s most fuckable pyramid?’. It was his thing. He was number one. He needed to have everything. Just, because, he was Gojo Satoru.

Many spread the word on how he was in those behind-the-scenes exchanges, his fucking skills not short from all his other accomplishments, perfection at its finest. And one thing that was the most mentioned about the sorceror was how no one… NO ONE… could get him to fall for them. No matter how many times they gave him gifts, no matter how much they followed him, he never looked their way once after they got alone for a simple bang.

Instead, they’d be the ones to fall head over heels and never got over the rejection. That was his specialty. The reason why he gained a fan base. And he was flattered by it. Amused even. But, it never convinced him to get with any single one of them. That would never happen in a million years.

After many shunned attempts from his classmates, old friends, and one night stands to get with him on a relationship level, they assumed that Satoru was full-on Aromantic. That the man loved himself too much to get something like a crush. Or he was in a completely different world than them because of his power.

Those weren’t the real reasons as to why Gojo wasn’t interested in them, however. He just didn’t feel drawn to that vulnerability. How they were so easy to figure out with a simple look from him. Knowing everything like this was the biggest challenge for him. He was stuck, endlessly bored because all of his options were predictable, and not one of them entertaining enough. No threat. That’s how it was.

Until sophomore year of the Jujutsu college was when he came across someone out of the ordinary in the school hallway. He happened to be a new student, transferring from a completely different part of the world, and the amount of cursed energy leaking from his aura made the sorcerer stop in his tracks.

When the man turned to look down directly into Satoru’s eyes as he walked past him, it sent shockwaves through his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. For the first time in his life, he found somebody that he was unable to read.

At first, he was in denial about it. He couldn’t understand why one person would be different from the rest when it came to his perception. So, to figure it out, he began to follow the guy around.

Don’t ask why he didn’t approach him first, he didn’t know why, but he couldn’t. His heart would beat irregularly and he’d start to sweat, his entire chest and face heating up if they locked eyes at all. Maybe it was because his [E/C] orbs were intimidating or because he was extremely fucking good-looking. Maybe both. All he knew was that he never experienced it before and that was terrifying.

He started with small stares from afar, prop up near the places he would spot him and watch what he would do for several minutes. Waiting until he left to walk right behind him and see where else he would go.

So far, he was about as normal as anyone else in routine. He’d walk to his classes, do his work, and focus hard on his studies throughout lunch. Burying his nose in books upon books that the white-haired man would never pick up. Yet, what he found intriguing was his lack of interest in others.

The man didn’t socialize, ever. He would get up from his seats and tables whenever somebody would sit next to him. If they tried to talk to him, they were ignored like they were a wall. He’d ignore them, throw their notes to him in the trash, and any project he was assigned to was made for him to be alone. It was almost near impossible to grab a name. Thankfully, the system needed it to enroll and that was easy to get to.

Now, he knew that it was wrong of him to invade his personal space and illegal. But, Gojo had a severe problem with boundaries and it didn’t help that he could get away with it by teleporting. Also, he just didn’t care. A little curiosity never hurt him.

Eventually, he got to rummaging through the school records in the late hours of night, finding a file containing a name he didn’t recognize, ‘[L/N] [F/N]’. Pulling it out of its box, he opened it to check the picture and came face-to-face with a question mark box in place of it. His eyebrows furrowed and he scanned through the rest of what was listed about him.

The description of his features and classes were all there, things that he already knew, the basic stuff. But, this confirmed that [F/N] was his name and that’s all that mattered. Satoru was about to close the document and put it back before he glanced down at a small paragraph that read:

‘[L/N] is reserved to be under tight supervision and security conditions. He shall never be allowed to leave the city or Jujutsu without permission. If it falters, we will initiate our final plan.’

He narrowed his glowing blue eyes at the ominous writing, thumbing over the edges of the page while he thought to himself quietly, ‘I wonder… Is he as good as me?’ That idea crossed his mind and didn’t leave him alone. ‘Someone stronger than me… Is that possible?’ His fingers folded the paper back to where it belonged while trying to ignore himself, tucking it safely, and closing the drawer to make it look like nothing was tampered with. Then he turned around to get to heading out, not seeing the large figure looming in the shadows behind him.

It was by the time Gojo hopped out of the window he used to break into the room, that he realized [F/N] was plaguing every corner of his brain. He couldn’t stop thinking about him. Like his face was burned into his memory.

His gloomy, [E/C] eyes that bore a hole through him whenever he caught his attention. That sharp nose that gave him an edge, scrunched up at anyone that passed by. Plump, pouty lips that would frown as soon as he was being bothered. God, and that soft red tone resting in the middle of them, it made him think of the worst perverted things he could possibly come up with.

Satoru was tripping over his feet trying to get back to his dorm room, using the roofs of buildings, and traveling at a rate he could when dealing with a boner this bad.

Finally, right as he stumbled into his place, he began unbuckling his belt and sliding it off to throw it loosely onto the floor somewhere. He got most of his clothes off of him and left his boxers to be the last thing pulled off, his dick springing free and brushing over his lower stomach before he wrapped his slender hand around the base.

He played with his tip for a minute, beads of pre-cum sliding down and coating his fingers. Letting him cover his shaft the more he pumped. It was throbbing, blushing pink like cotton candy, and glistened in the moonlight of his room. And oddly enough, all of this was being done to a fantasy of sucking [F/N] off.

Gojo had never touched himself to someone individually before. Especially to someone he hadn’t hooked up with. And not in a way where they were on top or it wasn’t solely based on sex.

This was new to him and he was losing himself to it, badly. His hips thrusted upwards into his hand, the other one reaching up to his mouth so he could suck on his fingers and coat them with spit. Finishing getting them wet, he positioned two of them against his hole and slowly forced it inside.

He closed his eyes and imagined it was [F/N]’s, groaning at the abnormal feeling of being finger-fucked but enjoying it more than anything else. It barely took a couple of times of ramming them in before his cum began to spurt out in huge amounts. Decorating both his stomach and his hand in a stringy design.

After that night, Satoru came to a conclusion on how he felt about the [H/C]-haired man. This proved to be very, very frustrating.

The urge to see [F/N] was constant. It got so bad that he was leaving zero to little time for his friends, spending most of it on lingering near his newfound crush and drooling over any tiny thing he would do. And this went on for weeks.

Until one day, his obsession hit an all-time high. He was following him into the locker rooms like usual, having memorized this to be his routine whenever he was going to get ready for training. Although, to his disappointment, the guy would use his shirt and towel to cover himself when he changed. So he never even got a single peek.

But, today seemed to be different because [F/N] didn’t head toward his locker. He went in the direction of the showers, carrying a couple of items with him that looked like clothes and necessities. Excitement and nervousness rushed through Satoru. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he was going to get to see the man in all of his glory.

To keep himself from being detected, he was suspended in the air near the ceiling in a sitting position, patiently watching him arrange the shampoo and conditioner bottles before gripping the hem of his black fitted shirt.

[F/N] stripped it off of him, going at a slow pace that was teasing the hell out of him. Gojo was on the edge of his seat as he took in every bit, biting his bottom lip when he got to his pants and slipped them off of his slim waist. His build was impressive and so was his stature, enough to make Satoru draw blood from how hard he was digging his teeth in.

It wasn’t surprising that the white-haired man went straight to unbuttoning his pants and pulling his hard-on into view. Watching how he washed his body and cleaned his hair, struggling to hold in his moans while getting off to the sight. He barely got past five minutes before he was cumming mid-air, the droplets landing in the corner and making a bit of noise, causing Gojo to abruptly rush out of there as soon as he saw him turning his head.

His back was pressed against the wall on the other side of the showers, his chest moving up and down, the butterflies in his stomach swarming. He reached down to tuck his dick back in and zip it up, glancing at his hands that were dirtied with his jizz. Satoru sighed, in disbelief at his own actions before he went for the nearby sinks to wash them off.

Just as he did that, the shower was turned off and out stepped [F/N] a minute later. He passed by him while he was drying his hands off, causing Gojo to tense. His beating heart hadn’t even calmed from what happened not too long ago, he couldn’t handle this. So, he spun around and bolted for the door faster than the two of them could speak.

A small smirk quirked up the side of the [H/C]-haired man’s mouth, his gaze drifting toward the disappearing back of him, smug with a glint in his eyes.

Eventually, days had passed and Satoru was still in the same routine with chasing around his crush everywhere. Except it spread to him casually visiting his place in the middle of night to spend the rest of it either watching him sleep or pleasing himself outside of his window.

There would be times where he would break in and take his things to use like boxers and lotion. But, he tried to make it unnoticeable. He cared about stealth. That was until one of those nights, [F/N] decided to wear nothing but underwear.

Gojo’s blue eyes were glued on his figure, feeling like it was his lucky day to get to see something as rare as this. He was used to him wearing tank tops and basketball shorts, a small peep of his waistband was the most action he’d get if the man happened to move. Getting too excited, he was already sliding his sweatpants to his knees, shoving a hand in to get to jerking off for the millionth time. He couldn’t get tired of it when it came to him.

But before Satoru started, he realized that the window had been cracked open slightly. It was left open. Open…

He stopped what he was doing to push the rest of it upward, climbing inside of the tidy room and shutting it right after. The warmth and the quiet atmosphere invited him in, making him almost feel at home. That wasn’t wrong considering he was found in this place daily, scouring and finding out any thing that he had in this room. Which wasn’t much. Only thing that he was interested in was the locked box under his bed. Though, he couldn’t bust it no matter how hard he tried.

Looking down at the peaceful, sleeping [F/N] made his mind wander to a darker side of lust, his orbs brightening like diamonds as he let his sweats drop to the floor along with his boxers. He stepped out of them and lifted himself using his ‘Infinity’, hovering over him and getting the real picture of their size difference.

Gojo steadied his breathing as best as he could while flicking his eyes over his boxers, peeling them off bit by bit. He had to be extremely slow, careful than ever. Because if he woke up, who knows what would happen to him? And that risky feeling was more than enough fuel for the sex-crazed man.

Once [F/N]’s dick was exposed, Satoru had expected to see it flaccid, but it was already halfway hard. ‘Hm? Is he having a wet dream?’ He came to that conclusion. His excitement worsening because of the assumption and ended in him jumping the gun. He lowered down to where his tip was, giving a small kitten lick and watching his expression to see what would happen.

He knew it was a terrible idea to do what he was planning on. But, he didn’t want to stop what he was doing either. Actually, the fantasy of him finding out was really hot to him. What would he do? Would he get upset? Degrade him a bit? He was sure he could get off to that too.

[F/N] furrowed his brows a little and a noise similar to a grunt came from him, letting Gojo have the clear to go further. He placed his entire tongue on it, swirling around the head of his dick at a medium pace, and tasting his salty pre-cum with a satisfied look on his face. God, how long had he wanted to do this? He couldn’t keep track. It wasn’t that long of a wait but to him, it was like he served decades in prison, being teased with the keys in the cell next to him.

More grunts slipped past [F/N]’s pretty lips, falling onto his ears, and encouraging him to take more into his mouth. He hollowed out his cheeks while bobbing his head up and down to give the finishing touch, pulling out his phone at some point to snap a thirty second video of what he was doing for safekeeping. Every sound of his was making his own cock leak with arousal, dripping onto his bed, and reminding him that he needed attention too.

He dropped the device to move his hand back down, stroking his shaft and playing with the slit on his tip, muffling his moans on [F/N] and getting dirtier with the blowjob. His spit was running down the sides of him, messy and spreading around his mouth. The bobbing turned into a circle motion and he progressively got faster and faster. Feeling his dick twitching once he deepthroated.

The [H/C]-haired man’s legs lifted slightly, bending his knees while he thrusted upward. His eyebrows completely knitted together and his noises only sounding more intense. He was nearing his end, Satoru could tell. And it was then that he popped his mouth off, gasping for air, making his other hand wrap around to jack him off at a speed so quick that there was no time lost.

He stuck out his tongue and pressed it right against the landing zone, an odd euphoric look to his eyes as he soaked in the moment like it was his biggest achievement yet. That was until he saw those [E/C] ones piercing right back at him, the color of them being replaced with a… glowing, dark purple? What?

In an instant, Gojo’s hair was swept through and grabbed into a fistful, lifted off of him and thrown into the wall next to them with a force strong enough to cause him to go through it. His eyes went wide, staring directly at the frightened face of one of his classmates who was awoken by the loud impact and flying drywall. Barely a second into the exchange of words through looks with the girl, he was yanked back into the room, and the men rolled together onto the ground.

[F/N]’s palm slapped across his mouth, digging his thumb and all of his fingers into both of Satoru’s cheeks; turning him around to face towards his chest so he could pin him down better. His other hand was locked tightly in a grip around his wrists, both of his knees underneath his legs, his usual cold stare replaced by rage. And what he was hoping earlier felt heard all of a sudden.

There, he got to meet his crush for the first time and have that closeness he’d been hoping to get. Or just a simple word back. Something. He craved for his attention so bad that he could threaten him and it’d still satisfy his desire.

Gojo’s surprise slowly shifted into a wide smile, his eyes having a crazier spark to them while he giggled, figuring out what [F/N] had done. It was a trap.

The sound of a concerned voice interrupted before he could speak, “Gojo-kun? Are you okay?” Satoru mentally sighed, his expression dropping to half-lidded annoyed glare. He heard a brief slip of a laugh from [F/N] and raised his brows in shock, thinking he was amused by his face until he felt something pushing against his lower body, entering right inside of his hole.

No, he wasn’t laughing at that. He was laughing because he was enjoying the fact he was going to be exposed. Satoru should’ve been turned off by that, but rather he was loving it himself. He didn’t know why. This was so unlike the upcoming head of the Gojo clan. Although, he lost it already once [F/N] buried most of his thick length inside of him. His soul looked like it was being possessed, a purple glazing over his blue eyes.

Thankfully, he was stretched out by his fingers previously because the width of his cock was big enough to still make it feel uncomfortable. His thrusts rough as soon as he got most of it in. He didn’t think it would hurt this much, feel this amazing too. The combining sensations fucking with his brain and making him melt into the powerful man’s hold.

[F/N] was inside of his head. Literally. He could hear him whispering things in there through his technique, “You’re mine, Six Eyes. All of that cursed energy… It’s mine now.” Mind manipulation. That was his technique. He figured it out.

No wonder he couldn’t understand what it was at first. It was one of the main attributes of the special grade cursed object, ‘[M/N]’s Needles’. That means that the small marks on his forehead weren’t birthmarks, it was needles, deep into his own skull.

A smirk grew on the side of [F/N]’s mouth when he saw the ‘Aha!’ look across Gojo’s face, an extremely low, nerve-wracking voice coming out of him as he leaned right next to the white-haired male’s ear to remind him, “You’re not winning anything. I think I’d like to take your offer up on making you my new fuck toy.”

Then the aggressive fucking from before turned into straight abuse on him, Satoru’s expression twinging through a mixture of exasperation and pure bliss. Locking eyes with the same girl he’d been stressing about when his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. She choked up and took a step back, watching her peer get destroyed. But not for much longer because she mysteriously got warped into space, disappearing from the room without any explanation.

Gojo peeked back at [F/N], psychotically smirking and letting out a string of loud, slutty moans and groans. Not holding back because he knew that nobody could stop them. Especially with such a strong curse at his side. Despite his knowledge on what he was doing to him, he also made sure he could take control of the situation too. And what that means is he formed a pact.

The young sorcerer leaned forward, summoning most of his strength to give him a kiss, struggling to keep his eyes open anyway. [F/N] didn’t kiss back, knowing what he was up to the second he heard the thought from Satoru. But, he kept insisting, pushing his lips harder and harder against his.

There was several attempts at rejecting him, but it didn’t matter. Even as [F/N] gripped his ass harshly with both hands, dug all of his nails in, and tore his bottom lip up more. He continued to plant the same kiss, going so far and desperate that he started making out with him. It didn’t matter if he responded to it because Satoru wasn’t just doing it out of tricking him into this pact. This was love. Twisted, fucked up, love.

[F/N] pulled away for the twelfth time, panting and surprised that he was holding on for this amount of time. By now, they’d be falling apart and passing out. And he had even switched it to his most effective position. Gojo’s back was pressed up on the wall, arched and his legs wrapped around his waist, struggling to hold on from him being quite tall. His hand was wrapped around his neck, squeezing hard to the point where he was coughing, making sure that he didn’t lift himself to kiss him anymore.

“Do you want to get yourself killed? Or do you want to cum and survive, asshole?” [F/N] spat, getting up to his face in a threatening manner. Satoru smiled back at him once again, managing to choke a sentence out, “I want both… please!” He was teasing him even in this situation. The grip on his soul never wavering yet he talked back. This pissed him the hell off.

Every ounce of his strength raged into Gojo immediately after that, the wall caving in on them, and the sheer volume of both of their techniques fighting one another in the midst of their exchange. His crystal blues spaced out and tilted up, staring off as he fell limp in [F/N]’s arms, his forehead pressing against his to give one last attempt.

The [E/C]-eyed man couldn’t resist the temptation. He didn’t know why. He didn’t think about it. He just did it. His lips smashed onto Satoru’s expecting him to be drained of anything that he could use against him. But, he was wrong. Dead wrong. If anything, the fate had been sealed right then and there from that action.

A knot was forming in [F/N]’s and his stomach as he panicked about the failure when feeling his power fade along with Gojo’s, the smile from before planting against his face right in the kiss they had. He tricked him into it. He fucking cheated.

So much anger was rammed into Satoru for the next few hours even after [F/N] and him finished at the same pace. His guts practically being filled with his seed over and over, then rapidly having it fucked in until it couldn’t escape. He paid him back for what he did. For ruining everything he had by tying a commitment to him he didn’t want. Although, for some reason, he couldn’t help but be impressed. Possibly looking forward to their time together.

|| Extra ||

Satoru weakly smiled at Geto and shook his head, answering his question on where he’s been the last couple of months with a soft sigh, “I’ve been getting around a lot. When you have this many fans, it’s hard to keep up.” The black-haired man looked at him, unamused; poking at his noodles. His baggy eyes seemed to be getting worse. Shoko chimed in a smart comment, “Is that why you’re getting hickeys now? You letting someone top you?”

Gojo froze and snapped his head at her, his serious face causing her to began laughing like crazy and exclaim out loud, “No way! So, it’s true! You are being bottom!” He raised his hands in the air at her and waved them around while denying it profusely, “You think someone can get one over me? Gojo! Satoru! Do you not know my name? What kind of crazy lady are you, huh?!”

They bickered back and forth until Geto split the two of them up and decided it was time for all of them to go their separate ways. He waved ‘Goodbye’ as he walked away, slipping his hands in both of his pockets before turning his head to look in an alleyway that he was barely about to pass. For a split second, he was sure he caught a glance of purple eyes peering back at him, but when he checked again; there was nothing.

He looked at the dark midsection of the buildings, waiting to see if something else would happen, and then walked on as soon as it appeared to be his mind playing tricks on him.

Little did he know, that later on in that same alleyway, after Shoko left Gojo alone. He was being fondled by the curse he now claims as his forever boyfriend and ‘fuck buddy’ who stood there, eavesdropping on him the entire day.

They switch roles in following each other. Happening to be [F/N]’s day. And they both couldn’t hold back the urge of wanting to fuck the shit out of the other all the time. Satoru never reluctant to letting the man have his way. And as he let the blue-eyed man finish from his hand, he dug his teeth into his shoulder blade, mentally shouting at him in his head, “Who’s on top again, pretty boy?! What did you say to them again?” His cum spurted everywhere onto the floor and his fingers, those eyes rolling back like usual while he muttered, “You, sir…. Only, you.”

[blightbright]

mythal nuance

look, i love some yikes women characters!!! have i mentioned how much i fucking adore knight-commander meredith? yeah, that genocidal zealot? sympathetic lawful evil ftw. one of my ALL-TIME FAVE CHARACTERS is mariah dillard from the luke cage TV show. she is ABUSIVE, including to her daughter, she is devastating and so well-portrayed, and she is such a terrible person AND i just adore her in her harmful flawed tragic selfhood!

flemythal? fucking love her, she's awful, she's hilarious, she's compelling, i think it's a travesty that devs didn't get kate mulgrew's voice and the flemeth appearance back in some timey-wimey fade magic way. i love how she feels at odds with herself, sometimes vengeful, sometimes regretful. i love her sweetness toward merrill and her funny interactions with purple!hawke, i love her confusion that morrigan is upset with her, i even love the YIKES ambiguous, semi-motherly, semi-loverly, intimate owner-pet vibes head stroking and nuzzling between her and solas in the DA:I end credits. OUCH.

veilguard!mythal IMO feels more like a mediocre narcissist who wants to maintain the status quo, and of course is faux "loving" AKA guilt-tripping and strings-attaching her "care." that's not badly written since it's a real thing, but she's not for me. the fact that elgar'nan presumably abused her is not super compelling to me because IMO it gives the flavor of a confederate slave-owning white woman whose husband is a piece of shit AND ALSO she still thinks slavery is fine and actively upholds and abuses her power over other people. this is not an analogy: mythal literally owns people as slaves. in my fic i try to give her some fairy queen style, wouldn't-it-feel-so-good-to-die-for-me vibes where she's liberal with her magically-hypnotic praise if you please her, to make her more inhuman and therefore interesting to me, but anyway.

i'm seeing accusations of misogyny if people love solas and hate mythal, and while we can and should critique how women characters are written and discussed, given the canon content, it's NOT an inherently misogynistic reaction to hate the character who abused a character you love. i saw a thing insisting "solas is always defined by mythal" and to respect mythal and... really? critique the writers as much as you want for setting this up, but do people really want to say we should always identify a person by their abuser's influence, or offer respect to that abuser??

are you also gonna say "morrigan is always defined by flemythal, acknowledge and respect her when talking about morri" after we know for a fact that flemythal repeatedly exposed morrigan as a child to sexual situations that resulted in violent death, encouraged her to push down her own sensitivity and feelings and focus only on power and manipulation, and morrigan tells the spirit in DA:O that she's still acting too gentle to be the real flemeth, even after smacking morrigan hard across the face and demanding morrigan show some respect? she had an influence on morrigan's life, but holy fuck does morri deserve to define her life by her own desires and her own choices and accomplishments now

if people are aware that solas was given mythal's slave markings, since she was a slaver like the other evanuris, then he burned them magically off his face when he led a slave rebellion against slavers, and hear all the clips in veilguard where she is clearly in a position of power over him, and still claim there was no abuse, idk what to tell you. you are incorrect. please consider if you have some cognitive dissonance about how much you love to hate solas (tho you can still do that even if a character has experienced abuse) and/or how much you want to enjoy mythal (tho you can still appreciate an abusive character).

[tesslinua]

Storm of Magic Region Matchup 6 - Primordial Life VS Erin

Propaganda

Primordial Life:THAT'S MY MOM!!!!!!! as the embodiment of life she holds all the beauty of all kinds of life by default. and it is so cool and pretty that she has many eyes and arm s and wings and her hair is also plants and feathers. and all the swirls.... she is so prettys

women prebby

Erin: Hotter when evil

He's a sad pathetic little wet rag hubrising and faking his way through life and he SUCKS and I HATE him and I hope he DIES /posi think i can safely say i am THE erin enjoyer. so buckle up. okay. for starters. i love me a good twink. that's the baseline. plus he has pretty black hair. plus he has indigo eyes (the best color). plus he wears a waistcoat and a cape. his TATTOOS. his fucking tattoos. how long did those take. theyre so intricate and they cover the entirety of both forearms. he couldve just gotten the runes necessary and hid them with a bandana like tarren but this freak doesnt do anything halfway. why would he? he's the elemental magus. he has to flaunt his status. that panel where he has his shirt open showing the void rune and he's got this concentrated/frustrated/stressed look on his face while he's reading his journal? makes me lose all higher brain functionings. also his eyes reflect the color of whatever magic he's casting. Pretty. he is. such a smug showy hubristic bastard and his ego infuriates and infatuates me. normally i hate people like this BUT he's also pathetic. he gets so cranky when falst steals his bag and when theia doesn't let him in the archives. and that fucking "by now, i… i hope you'd trusted me to know what i was doing" in ripples where hes looking down and he's so small in the panel. COME ON MAN whats your fucking problem. he's so sure of himself all of the time but it's so easy to make him crack and every time it happens i am filled with unbridled desire. i need to make him crack i need to make him realize the throne he thinks he's on is made of glass i need to watch him doubt his status and power. he is so much hotter when he's stressed. like when alinua says kendal didnt wake up post-zuurith? the pure anguish and fear in his face? Goddamn. not to mention the boat arc. that was the best example of him being soooo sure of his power, his control, and then having all of that shattered. "i HAVE to do everything alone! nobody can match me! nobody can help me in a way that matters! it always comes back to me to carry the weight, and if i fall, nobody can catch me! gods and legends want to help me? can any of you part the clouds, still the seas?! can you save me from the dragon?" drove me fucking insane every time i think about that i need to eat glass (yes i looked up that page to get the quote exactly right yes i spent approximately 10 minutes kicking my feet and giggling) seeing him get beat up is so nice i think it should happen more <3 i lov e seeing him battered and bruised and afraid and bloody and also i had never experienced sexual attraction to anyone, real or fictional, until i discovered erin fucking ruunaser, so like. thats an accomplishment i think.