#help the old one was so ugly lets forget it

[reign--storm]

repost with some edits because i hated the before :')

[clockwayswrites]

Dead on MAYn Day 6

Trope | Enemies at First Sight/Scar Soulmates

Dialogue | "I would believe that you're fine, but that's a knife sticking out of your goddamn leg, so…"

cw: blood, medical care, scars

“Hey, um, are… you okay? Can I call someone? Or, like, help you get somewhere?”

“I’m fine,” Red Hood growled back at the voice from the bright edge of the alley.

“Yeah, I would believe that you're fine, but that's a knife sticking out of your goddamn leg, so…”

Hood snorted, the sound ugly through the mask. “Yeah. Hurts like a mother too.”

“I’m sure.” The figure was a broad one—broader than Hood was maybe. It seemed like they filled up the entrance to alley. It wasn’t threatening though. In fact, they seemed almost hunched in on themselves. “I’ve got my bike close. I can give you a ride to wherever you need and completely forget where I’ve been after.”

“Yeah? Good at forgetting, are you?” Hood rasped.

“I’m a college student in the middle of finals, chances are I won’t remember this at all,” they said dryly.

“If you try anything, I can still kill you,” Hood pointed out.

“No doubt of that at all!” they said, way too cheerfully. “I’ll grab my bike and be right back.”

Hood let his head thump back against the wall. He gave it an eighty:twenty that guy would come back himself. Forty:sixty that they would try something on the way. Seventy:thirty that this would come back to bite him in the ass later. But his leg fucking hurt.

He could save himself some trouble now and later if he got dropped of at Leslie’s instead of a safe house. The clinic being somewhere Red Hood would shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone. It would mean a lecture, though. And possibly some heat for Leslie.

He was pretty sure the knife didn’t hit anything vital.

Hood was just pulling out the last of the bandages he’d need with the person came back. The roar of a beast of a bike was the first hint, and then their shadow blocked the alleyway for a moment before they approached.

They were pretty nondescript. Unruly Black hair, slightly scruffy beard like they jut hadn’t had time to trip it up lately. They had on a hoodie under a worn leather jacket and jeans. It was only the bright turquoise eyes that really caught Hood’s attention.

“Time for the knife to come out? Let me help with the bandages while you do the pulling,” they said, still annoyingly cheerful.

“I could kill you with the knife,” Hood pointed out, just to be ornery.

The guy just snorted. “Sure, you could, but you wouldn’t. You’re the Red Hood and I’ve not fucked with anything on your nope list. Hell, the worst thing I’ve done this month is glared at a little old abuela because she was talking so loudly on her phone on the subway. Like, okay, you’re old, you’re look one sneeze away from scattering into dust, I’m sure there’s hearing loss, but spare the rest of us, you know?”

As they chattered, they took the bandages from Hood and then squatted down. And Jesus their thighs rivaled Hood’s. They made quite a sight down there at Hood’s feet like that.

Fuck, get a hold of yourself, Hood. So it’s been a long time, but this wasn’t the time.

Hood yanked the knife out with a bit back noise. The guy’s hands were there instantly, pressing the gauze down tightly for a little bit before wrapping it under the bandage. It was crude, but Hood just needed it to last to the safe house where he could clean it up properly.

He tossed the guy a wet wipe to clean up with and then took the trash and stowed it away to burn later. Then Hood pushed himself up off the wall, ignoring the offered hand, and limped towards the entrance of the alleyway.

The bike was impressive, even Hood had to admit it. His fingers itched a little to poke and prod at the beast. It was an old school hog, or a least that’s where most of it’s bit came from, but it was clearly a custom work in progress. It actually looked like it could support both of them too.

“He’s a looker, isn’t he?” the guy asked with a proud smile. “Not done yet, of course, but I’m working on it! Oh, I’m Danny.”

“Danny,” Hood repeated with a little nod. “He/him fine?”

Danny blinked in surprise at the consideration. “Yeah, good with me. Um, right, I know you know how to ride, just signal where you want me to turn and things.”

Hood gave a little nod, waited for Danny to climb on to his bike and put his helmet on, and then carefully settled behind him. The engine roared to life with a lovely purr and then they were of.

Danny didn’t try anything.

“I knew you were going to be a fucking problem,” Hood growled as he stalked across the roof to where Danny stood bashfully, as if he hadn’t just basically put up a bat signal to summon Hood.

Two out of three wasn’t bad.

-

“I mean, I didn’t show up at your house or anything!” Danny defended. “I just—look, we just need to talk.”

Hood crossed his arms. “Talk?”

“Or I’ll talk, and you can just listen! That’s fine too!” Danny said. “Look, so after I took you where you needed to go a few weeks ago I went home, showered, and crashed hard. But then I woke up and—look, I’m sorry for this, but you’re the one who got stabbed there!”

And then Danny started undoing his pants.

Which, what? Hood was pretty sure that he wasn’t dreaming this time. He focused on imagining a red ball to check if he was lucid dreaming.

Nope, nothing.

Danny was still pulling down his jeans over his very well toned thighs. And Jesus if Jason hadn’t been having dreams before—

“See?” Danny said. “I have a fresh scar right where you’ve been stabbed! And I haven’t done anything that could have given me it.”

There was indeed a pink, freshly healing scar on Danny’s legs, right where Hood had been stabbed. But Danny couldn’t be implying that.

“That’s one scar, it doesn’t prove anything,” Jason snapped even as he stepped closer.

Scar soulmates were one of the rarer types. Jason had never even considered having one. He had always thought empathy was mostly likely for him, with his moods. No one should have the scars that he had. No one should share his marks, not even a soulmate.

“It’s just one little scar, I know.” Danny yanked his jeans back up but didn’t bother fastening them before he pulled his shirt and hoodie up instead. An ugly, surgical Y crossed his chest. “But this one’s a little more distinctive.”

Jason stumbled back from Danny, hand pressed to his own chest.

Danny just stepped forward. “You had to have wondered where that came from. People don’t just get a scar like that.”

“What?”

“It’s—I was—”

Jason shook his head. “No, that’s my scar. I died.”

Danny paused. “What?”

“I died. And then I woke up in my coffin. I had that scar. I always assumed it was an autopsy scar…” but that didn’t make any sense, did it? Why would Bruce have let an autopsy happen? It was clear how Jason had died. And that how was revealing, too revealing. Why had Jason never thought of that before? Why had he assumed? “But… it’s not, is it. It’s yours?”

Danny nodded.

Anger surged through Jason, bubbled up like the growl in the back of his throat. He stalked forward. This time, Danny took a step back.

“Who did that to you?” Jason growled. He yanked Danny’s shirt back up and pressed his gloved fingers over the scar. “Who hurt you?”

“Well, you know, the usual. Shadowy government organization intent on studying me like a lab rat,” Danny said with an awkward chuckle.

Jason was going to get more information than that. He was going to find them and end them for what they had done to Danny. He was going to—

“Hood, breathe,” Danny said. “I’m okay now. I’m right here, aren’t I?”

Jason ran his fingers over Danny’s side and the round scar there. A bullet from his Robin days. Batman had been pissed after that one. Or was it worried?

“Can we—is there somewhere we can go to talk this over? I’m not… I’m not expecting anything from you,” Danny said in a way that already sounded heartbroken, “but I feel like we should at least talk about it, right?”

“Yeah.” Jason swallowed back his nerves and every part of him that wanted to wrap Danny up in his arms and never let go. “Yeah. Come on, I have a safe house close. We can talk there. We can talk about everything.”

---

Danny, who always knew cause wow Jason has a lot of scars, patting Jason's back and very amused and flattered that Red Hood wants to go destroy the GIW for him. Maybe Danny will let him.

AN:

Jason, who thought he didn't have a soulmate and that meant something because he didn't have the normal types and he didn't get (noticeable) scars because all of Danny's big ones were as Phantom, clinging desperately to Danny like ;-;

[baronessvonglitter]

Bad Santa

sleazy mall Santa!Joel Miller x fem!Reader | wc: 2.3K

Summary: Frantically seeking relief during the Christmas rush, the Santa at your local mall is the last person you'd expect to help.. and the only one who can.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Reader is a hot and horny mess and wears a short skirt. Mall Santa is a perv, but he's your perv. Semi-public masturbation (f). Squirting. Cockwarming. Semi-public sex. Infidelity. Unprotected piv. Oral (m & f receiving). Analingus (f receiving). Possibly illegal use of a candy cane. Creampie. Come swallowing. Santa Joel is a menace and a sleaze but that's what we all need, right?

Author's Note: one of the first things I learned about @strang3lov3 is that we share a deep love for Bad Santa (and Billy Bob in general) so this is written in her honor. Bug, I hope you enjoy Santa Joel, and don't forget to leave out some cigs and whiskey for him on Xmas Eve. (And the latest edition of Hustler. He's an old-school magazine man.)

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You're home on Christmas break from college and all you want to do is fuck the boyfriend you left behind and have been faithful to for four long, painful months. But the only thing on Derek's mind is doing last minute Christmas shopping.

The mall on Christmas Eve is the last circle of hell.

Derek guides you through the crowd. "Sleigh Ride" plays over the speakers, tinny, bright and cheery. You hate it. You're impatient. You're horny. You need to find a way to get him alone, even just a fingerbang would suffice. For now.

You pass by the huge Christmas tree in the center where the mall Santa waits with bored-looking elves. There's no line, which is surprising given it's the last day for photo ops.

Santa watches as you pass, cheap plastic beard hanging off, revealing gray scruff, his red suit wrinkled and stained. You track his gaze roving over your figure, fully concentrating on the jiggle of your ass under the short skirt you'd picked out in the hopes of getting a quickie.

"God damn," you hear him mutter. "Merry Christmas, babygirl." he calls out.

You glance back and see him pull the beard down, wiggling his tongue at you in a lewd manner.

Fucking sleaze. But your pussy is wet and throbbing, and this is the first bit of attention you've had all day. You respond by stuffing your tongue in your cheek and making a blow job motion. Santa licks his lips and subtly palms his cock over his fluffy red pants.

Derek, oblivious, is walking you towards a department store.

"Mommy said she'd like a new bathrobe for Christmas," he says, bringing you past the awful perfume and makeup counters. You heard right.. Mommy. What the fuck?

"Didn't you already buy her a foot massager?" you ask, barely hiding your disinterest, looking around for a corner where you can blow him.

"She said she wants the robe instead," he says, diligently checking each one on the rack. Pink, green, blue, they're all in ugly prints and you wonder how little he must think of his mom to actually buy her a bathrobe instead of something nice.

But the bigger problem is your aching cunt.

"Derek, come on, just pick one out," you beg him, whispering in his ear, giving his lobe a little bite.

"Calm down, we're in public," he chides you over nervous laughter.

"So? That makes it more exciting." Closer to him as the clothing rack hides you, you cup his crotch, disappointed to find he isn't even remotely hard. Not a problem. You know exactly how to get him started.

"Let's go to the dressing room," you tell him before he can remove your hand. "I'll let you do whatever you want, please, I just need you now.."

"Get a hold of yourself," he whispers harshly, finally pulling your hand from him.

"Derek, what the fuck?" you whisper back. "Your horny girlfriend wants you to fuck her in a semi-public place and you're limp as a fucking noodle. Don't you want to at least watch me get off?"

You're not even allowing him time to think about it, leading him to the men's dressing room, where you're less likely to set off an alarm than the women's. You step into the first stall and push him against the wall, caging him in with your arms.

"Sweetheart, what the hell?"

"Fuck me," you tell him. "Jesus, Derek, I'm pussy on a plate right now." You lift your leg, rubbing against him, but only the fly of his jeans provides any feeling. "And you can't even get hard??"

"You're coming on a little strong," he says faintly, as if he's being cornered by a feral animal. And in a way he is.

You lean back on the little dressing room seat, hiking up your skirt. "At least eat me out, for Christ's sake," you whine, fingers dipping into your dripping-over cunt.

"Darling! You're acting like a crazy person," he says, shielding his eyes as you desperately finger yourself.

"You're such a pussy," you grunt out, breath hitching as you fuck yourself on two, then three fingers.

"You're not wearing any panties??" he says too loud, but you're past caring who hears, or if anyone even walks in. You'll gratefully fuck the store manager and the security guard who'll probably come to haul you away.

Derek keeps his gaze averted as you continue shamelessly fucking your hand, reaching inside your dress to twist your nipple. "Derek.. fuck.. you just gonna stand there and be useless?" You shove a fourth finger in your snatch, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Your boyfriend is deeply afraid as he risks a peek from between his hands covering his face. "You look possessed! You have to stop or someone's going to hear you!"

"Baby, please, put your cock in my mouth," you beg, still working yourself into a frenzy. "Jizz on my face, anything, please!" You're on the floor now, riding your own fingers, your other hand madly strumming at your clit like a perverted version of air guitar.

There's a knock at the dressing room door, to which you answer "Go away, we're fucking" Then you come, squirting all over the bathrobe Derek was going to gift his dear mommy.

"You're lucky that guy didn't turn us into the police," Derek says, tight-lipped as he leads you back towards the center of the mall. "Got it all out of your system?" He's leaving the store embarrassed and minus any gifts.

"Yes," you sigh in exasperation, though it's a bald-faced lie. The need is growing again and you're just a slave to it. Your hands itch to go up your skirt again, to relieve the tension before it becomes unbearable.

And there he is, right where you left him before. Fucking Santa Claus. Like he's been waiting for you this whole time.

"Let's take a picture," you pull on Derek's hand. "Please? End the day on a good note?" You do your best to look contrite but all you're thinking about is sitting on that sleazy man's lap, maybe getting felt up. It'd be fucking amazing to have someone touch you besides your own fingers.

Before he can even protest you're practically skipping past the velvet rope and traipsing up the candy-cane lined walk to the big green chair where Santa sits. His eyes already on you, he pats his lap, tongue peeking out between his lips.

Derek follows after, but is stopped by one of the elves, who tells him he has to pay in advance for a photo.

"And what's your name?" Santa murmurs, discreetly adjusting himself as you seat yourself on his lap. "Does it matter?" you ask, subtly lifting the back of your skirt as he pulls his thick hard cock. "Guess not," he chuckles low and deep, then hisses as your slick tight cunt envelops him.

"My fucking god," he says lowly, doing all he can to keep from thrusting up into you as your boyfriend comes up, all smiles as he watches you get cozy with Santa. He makes as if to sit on Santa's other thigh. "Not you," Santa grunts, his hands on your waist as you clench and throb around him. Derek holds a smile and stands to the side opposite you.

This, this is what you needed. His cock isn't even all the way in, the way you pulse around him pushes him out a little until his hands grab your waist, as if to pose you for the camera, and pushes you down, bottoming out within your sopping wet cunt.

"Gonna leave a mess on me," he murmurs. "Already got my lap soaked. And the suit's a fuckin' rental."

His breath smells like cigarettes and cheap booze and it's only making you want him more. "Fuck, I needed this.."

"You been a good girl this year?"

"Not at all."

He leans in and whispers: "Good girls get presents. Bad girls like you get to sit on Santa's fat cock." He shifts his lap up a little, jutting up into you and you bite your lip to barely suppress a moan.

Your picture is being taken with Santa but you could give a shit. Cockwarming him while he's whispering filth in your ear is the most fun you've ever had.

"Does baby girl want a candy cane?" he asks when it's time for you to go. Derek goes to pay, leaving you alone with Santa again. "We have some more in the elf cottage, You gonna come get one? Gotta earn it first.." His gloved finger traces your arm. "C'mon, ditch the wanker."

The elf cottage is a sparse room for the Santa's Wonderland employees to take their breaks, and right now it's filled with the sounds of flesh slapping on flesh, your moans muffled by the fluffy red hat he put there to quiet you as he bends you over the folding table and rams his holly jolly dick into your stretched needy cunt.

"That's it, baby, fuckin' take it. Let Santa stuff your tight lil' stocking," he grunts.

You moan around the red fluff of his hastily discarded hat, throat burning with all your pent-up screams. Christ, you've never had anyone so disgusting, so eager, so perfect to satisfy this itch that you've been unable to scratch yourself.

And lord, his cock is the most filling thing you'll ever have. You already know he's going to leave you gaping for the next few days.

He watches the ripples of your ass as you throw it back on him, taking his entire fucking shaft so that with each thrust his balls thwack against your inner thighs. "Tight and wet.. lil' bitch in heat, ain't ya?" he teases, circling his hips so you feel him against every square inch of your aching snatch. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, finally spitting out the stupid hat.

"Fuck me Santa, fuck me Santa, fuck me Santa," you chant in broken moans, pushing your hips back, demanding it hard and fast, which he gives even as you come, clamping down all around him in a vise grip.

"Jesus," he growls, pulling out and kneeling behind you. He purses his lips to your dripping cunt, wiggling his tongue against your folds before licking a wide stripe upwards, teasing your asshole with his tongue. You practically shove your ass against his face, his gloved hands spreading your cheeks to get better access.

Grabbing a candy cane from a basket on the table you unwrap it with your teeth and hand it to him. It's thick and hard, and Santa knows just what to do with it. Feasting on both your holes, he takes the candy cane and watches it disappear into your glistening pussy. Hearing your gasp encourages him to keep going, fucking you as his tongue keeps rimming your ass, delving into tease you.

There's a knocking at the makeshift cottage door, then a moment of silence and a "God damn it, Joel, not again!" from the other side. "Fucker's always doing something," the person, most likely one of the elves at the cash register, mumbles and walks off.

He's back inside you, sliding the candy cane between your lips, moving it in and out just as he moves in and out, keeping you spread open so he fill you with every inch. "Babygirl likes havin' somethin' to suck on, don't she?" he mutters, pumping steadily into you. "Gotta be a good girl and tell me where ya want it."

"Inside me," you beg, and he moves double time, hands on your shoulders as he ruts up against you, slamming every inch until you cry out again, knees buckling as you come hard and Santa Joel follows soon after, his jizz painting your insides in warm sticky ropes.

"Lick me clean, baby," he murmurs, and you immediately go to your knees, taking him deep into your mouth, your jaw aching as the tip of him hits the back of your throat. When you gag he keeps you there, your mouth filling with saliva until it spills out from your lips, mixed with his cum. You bob your head on his length, eyes watering as you look up at him, your cunt still throbbing as you start to leak him on the floor.

"Fuuuuck yes," he growls, hand on your head, teeth sinking into his lower lip as you suck him off, and it's a Christmas miracle he's hard again, and he's about to come. He holds your head still and facefucks you, your hands cupping his ass to stop him from going too shallow-- you need to be deepthroated for once in your life.

Santa Joel lets out another curse as he uses you to come, spurting his Christmas magic down your throat. "There's a good girl. Babygirl's thirsty for what Santa's got, huh?" he teases as you greedily swallow every bitter, salty drop.

Clothes are straightened before you leave the little elf cottage, but the look of satisfaction is plain on your face as you suck on the candy cane that you'd been fucked with only moments before. Santa Joel puts his hat back on his head and shuffles over to the helper elves. "I'm goin' out for another smoke break," he tells them.

The head elf puts her hands on her hips. "Joel, you're not allowed to take ten smoke breaks an hour!" But by then he's already on the way out, both middle fingers in the air to salute her.

Derek joins you, looking puzzled as he studies the holiday photo -- there's something off about the face you're making in it. "Did Santa give you that candy cane?"

Grinning, you slurp up the sweet peppermint that still has traces of your own flavor on it. "And then some."

dividers by @saradika 👑

Tagging those who showed interest: @clawdee @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @myownwholewildworld

@penascigarette @hoelaris

[green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle]

Tear you apart

Niragi as your friend with benefits, headcannons. Fem reader. +18 below cut

General masterlist

⚠️ In dark, full of despair world of Borderland luxurious Beach seemed to be dreamlike utopia where everybody could just enjoy life and forget about constant bloody fight for survival, even if only for a second. However, this illusion of a paradise was hiding many ugly secrets. Power-hungry control freaks in charge, enemies hidden in plain sight, armed social outcasts terrorising its residents under excuse of keeping the order and crowd of people trying to drown their existential fear in sex, drugs and alcohol. Caged between constant anxiety and bitter, temporary relief after each game won you also lived through every day as if it was your last. Instead of numbing yourself with strange pills or vodka, you found more primal addiction to distract your mind and body from this reality.

You were concerned about how fast this dangerous and unpredictable man became your painkiller. Everything about him was like a big red flag, but this brutal realm made you used to chaos. Hell, maybe it was exactly the thing that made you seek him out. After all, you could die in the next game, why not take a risk and enjoy something you wouldn't have enough courage to try in the real world? So you listened to your body and indulged in this forbidden pleasure. In the end it's not that deep, it's not like you two are a thing, you just want to feel alive before you get old, or more likely eliminated from games. And he was so exciting. Bad boy, fun and unpredictable. Niragi made your heart beat faster.

⚠️ What made you so physically interested in him at first was his tongue. Pierced, long and extremely agile. The way Niragi used to stick it out at all times didn't help at all, the sight of its tip gently stroking his lower lip while he concentrated on something never failed to make you insanely wet. You cringed a bit when he tried to provoke you by doing some obscene moves with it in your face, tho.

Nowadays this hot, talented tongue of his drives you to insanity. Niragi has oral fixation and his idea of foreplay usually includes licking you from your head to your toes. He will only ever do things in bed that satisfy him, he isn't the type to do something just because you like it. So when he tastes you all over you better believe he does it for his own pleasure. Not to mention the ego boost he gets from your moans when he overstimulates you with it. He knows just how flexible and long is his tongue and loves to flex it. As much as he gets off on disgusted reactions he gets from ladies when he flirts with them (sometimes even behaving a bit vulgar to earn them) sometimes deep down he wants to be wanted, needed, begged for - and he achieves it when his head is between your legs. So ask for him, moan, even ride his face, it makes him so eager. This is the only bit of control this man will let you have in bed.

⚠️ Besides this one thing, he's strictly dominant. A lot of his trauma revolves around being humiliated and having his physical boundaries violated to extreme level, just how much it influenced him shows in the way he fucks. First of all he loves to bind your hands. Besides the fact, that it makes you very vulnerable in front of him, making him feel more confident and secure - it's also a way for him to make sure you won't touch him in a way he couldn't control. He is a very touch starved person who craves physical stimulation and company of others more than anything, but for years only physical touch from others he got was painful and violent. This screwed him up deeply. He tries to shield himself during sex, for example he will not fully undress himself while you are completely naked or he will behave in overconfident or pushy way, hoping you won't notice how much his hands shake. You know how people who starved for a long time get nauseous when they finally get some food? That's Niragi and affection. So he will ovestimulate you until you can't even think anymore; bind your hands above your head to not feel your palm press against his chest - where his heart is; and intimidate you to make you submissive. He wants to feel your warm flesh accept him so much he will manhandle you and squeeze you, to make sure you are real, to make sure you are there. To make sure he can touch you and you won't run from him. He always fucks hard and fast, like he's trying to prove a point. You never now if it's to you or to himself.

⚠️ Niragi is impulsive and always seeks stronger stimuli, he has a strong tendency to overdo things. His mood changes very fast. You will definitely notice how it shows in bed as well. He has extremely bad day and wants to feel less shitty? He will fuck you in front of other people so everybody can see just how much of a man he is. He feels like somebody questioned his authority at the meeting with other high status citizens of the Beach? He might choke you just to feel empowered, to feel like your life lays in his hands and see your begging gaze get cloudy. He will do many things to make sure you feel who has control here, like making you suck on his gun (safety on, dw), spitting on your pussy and slapping it harshly just to hear you scream his name or leaving hickeys wherever he wants regardless of your opinion on that. He is the one deciding when and where you two fuck, your sex life revolves around his activities with the Militants.

⚠️ He's a messy boy and sex with him is just as messy. He loves it wet. At the end you will be covered in cum and spit and his entire face will be soaked with your squirt. He comes wherever he wants. Bad impulse control and awful pull out game. Things tend to go in dubcon territory with him from time to time cause he treats you like his doll and handles rejections very badly. He openly considers himself a filthy creep and is not ashamed of this indentity, pretty much the opposite - he embraces it. He wouldn't hesitate to eat your ass or kiss you right after he filled your mouth with his cum. He's the type to find your after game of spades just to lick off your sweat. If it makes you uncomfortable he gets instant boner. He's hella hypersexual so expext a lot of sex.

⚠️ He will have trouble with respecting rules of fwb deal. He will leave hickeys and cum inside you like you are his. Niragi will get jealous as if you were in commited relationship and will blame you for advances of other people out of his own insecurity and fear that you will choose someone else over him. Don't even try eyeing other people. He will at first attempt to disguise his jealousy as being protective to not feel like a loser but won't keep it up for long. Unless you crush his rival's dreams in the cruelest way possible he is mad at you just in case you even considered other guy for a second. You might get tired of it pretty fast, Niragi constantly refuses to be open and vulnerable with you while expecting you to be as loyal as a girlfriend should be, even if you never promised each other anything but pleasure. However he simply doesn't care if he's being unfair. He is not a good guy after all.

⚠️ If at any point you decide to get out of this fwb thing with him, well. Good fucking luck. Niragi will definitely get pissed off, trying to argue with you and convince you that you have no say in this matter. If you manage to withstand this pressure and leave anyways - get ready for him to get passive aggressive. He will make your life harder and won't hesitate to use his position on the beach to do so, hoping that you will come to him for help. Any guy that tries to approach you will suffer consequences of Niragi's fury as well. Nobody can touch you if he can't. If loneliness and helplessness won't be enough to make you come back to him, expect him to invade your personal space and bother you. The only way for it to stop is escaping from the Beach.

[darknight3904]

𝘐𝘴 𝘐𝘵 𝘕𝘦𝘸 𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘠𝘦𝘵?

𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯. 𝘠��𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘢𝘶𝘳𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘺.

𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘭 & 𝘞𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦 (2024).

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦.

𝘉𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘺 𝘚𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2.4 𝘬

𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 / 𝘔𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Logan dislikes December. He always has. From the over priced gifts to the over played music, who could forget the biting cold. He hated it all. One of the things he hated most had to be some of the desserts people tried to pass off as edible.

"Get that out of my face." He growls as you try to feed him a forkful of something Al made

"One taste, Logan." You groan

"Don't like fruitcake. Makes me sick." He grumbles, "You eat it."

"But what if she screwed it up. Like those cookies she made that she used salt instead of sugar in?" You pout

"So I'm your guinea pig?" He asks with a sigh

"No! You're my loving boyfriend who will try Al's cooking for me."

"Nice try, bub." Logan takes the fork from your hands and set it back down on the plate, "I'm not dying of food poisoning."

You scoff, like food poisoning would be the thing to take him out.

"Hey, do we have any more lights? I think this strand is broken." Laura asks as she digs through boxes of decorations

"Uhh...I think we had a few more strands somewhere." You say, leaving Logan's side to help the girl with her decoration.

For whatever reason, you and Laura had insisted on not only buying an enormous tree but also that the entire apartment needed to look like an elf threw up in it. Odd little decorations had accumulated in every spare surface of the house. Even Logan's favorite coffee mug had been replaced by a Santa-shaped one that Wade had found at some store. He was pretty sure he was living in a nightmare.

"Do you think he's still scowling over the fruitcake?" You ask

"Probably. I bet his face is doing that dumb thing where it-"

"You two know I can hear you, right?" Logan asked, entering the living room and plopping down on the couch

"If you're not going to eat, can't you help?" You ask

"Help with what?" He sighs

You toss a big ball of tangled-up lights for the tree into his lap. Yes, this really was a nightmare he was stuck in.

Another issue Logan had was gift-giving. Not because he didn't think people deserved gifts, but he never knew what to buy. He'd been alive for nearly 200 Christmases and he still struggled with gift-giving. How's that for bad luck?

He already had something for nearly everyone in his life. Al was getting a container of that hair stuff she liked, Wade and Vanessa were getting matching Hello Kitty sweatshirts, hell he even found a toy for Mary sitting in a discount bin at the grocery store. Now, the two biggest struggles in his life, You and Laura.

Laura had asked for new games for her Switch but Logan had a suspicion you bought them already. So, here he was standing in a Macy's in the Young Women's section, hoping something would catch his eye for the teen in his life. Most of the clothes were either ugly or not her style.

Holy shit, there was no way that qualified as a top. Logan wouldn't let Laura two steps out the door in something like that. That had to be an undershirt or something...right?

An ugly sweater catches his eye. Perhaps he could get her a gag gift. There was a sweater with an overweight cow drinking beer. That seemed decent.

"Excuse me, son. I need to get by."

Logan glances down to see a little old lady pushing a shopping cart. He steps to the side and easily lets her slide past.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" He blurts out to her

"Of course!" She smiled

"I got this teen girl at home. I need gift ideas." He sighs, "She's not the girliest and I can't figure it out."

The woman stands there for a second and thinks it over. A small snap of her wrinkled fingers cut through the air.

"How about shoes? Girly girl or not, every young girl likes a new pair of shoes every once in a while."

Logan thought about it, what shoes did Laura even wear? Usually, she was in that black pair of boots. Surely this huge store had something like that.

"Sounds perfect." He nods, "Do you have any ideas for my girl?"

"Oh well, what does she like?" The woman asks

What do you like? He swears he knows yet his brain is empty right now. You like him, that's for sure, "She likes me. I think"

"You're a bit empty-headed, aren't you?" The woman chuckles

Logan slowly nodded in agreement, normally an insult like that would have him simmering but he couldn't fight this old woman. She looked like she was 90.

"Well, when I was young, I always liked receiving a nice pair of pajamas. Or, a candle that smells like cookies. Honestly, I still like getting those things. One of my favorite things though to get was a day of peace and quiet. I used to tell my husband Howard to clean the house and take the kids out in the snow so I could take a long bath and read a book."

Logan thanks the woman, who he learns her name is Darlene, and goes off to find a pair of boots for Laura. He guesses on the size and shoves the gift receipt in the box just in case. He feels a bit unsuccessful as he walks back to the apartment he shares with Laura and you. He had one day left. Christmas Eve was tomorrow and you had wanted to bake cookies and watch movies all day.

He stashed the gifts under the bed, making a mental note to wrap them tonight after you passed out in bed. He tossed the idea around his brain of just giving himself as a gift to you, he'd like that if you did that for him. Honestly, it was the perfect gift for him. Of course, it seemed lamer coming from him now since he had done that for your birthday. Sure, the sex had been great but he wanted to give you something better.

Darlene had suggested pajamas but all you ever wore were his t-shirts to bed, that or nothing. You already had a huge collection of candles, and Laura really wasn't that chaotic so he didn't see any need to keep her away from you.

Fuck, what was he going to do?

The loud slam of the front door has him groaning. You were back from work, and he was still empty-handed in the gift department.

"How was work?" Laura asks

"Good. I gave Matt his gift early since he is driving to his parent's house for the next few days. Oh! I also saw the cutest kitten in that Petshop's window. An itty bitty orange one, looked like he was a few weeks old." You sigh dreamily

Logan officially had an idea. Perhaps it was a bad one, cats never did like him. Oh, fuck it, it beats not having a gift.

The next day, he sets out early. Laura is still snoring in her bed and you've gone off to help Vanessa with something. It's the perfect time to sneak a cat into the apartment.

The pet store is just opening as he arrives. The single employee looks like he'd rather be anywhere else as he welcomes Logan to the store with a monotone voice. So much for the Christmas spirit.

"Hey, there was an orange kitten here. Where is it?" Logan asked looking around an empty cage that was labeled Cats

"What?" The guy asked, not listening

"The orange kitten." Logan huffs, "I want to buy him."

"Oh, he was sold last night. Some lady came in, said her kids wanted a cat for Christmas." The guy says

"What?" Logan asks

"He's gone, man." The guy snorts

"Well, when do you get more?" Logan asks he can feel his blood pressure rising but he took a deep breath.

"More what?" The guy asks dumbly

"Cats! When do you get more fucking cats?!" Logan angrily slams his hand on the counter, "I need one for my girl. Any color I don't give a shit!"

"Oh, not for a while. Probably after the new year. The holiday season, those kittens go fast." The guy shrugs, "The shelters don't really give us too many at a time anyway."

Logan wipes a hand over his face with a groan, "You're really unfuckinghelpful."

Back outside, Logan's legs carry him to the bar he always went to when he was stressed. Two glasses of whiskey deep he's still giftless. It was starting to look like he was going to be the gift. Maybe he could borrow that giant bow Wade had, wrap it around his waist, and surprise you. He was so fucking lame.

Logan stumbles back out onto the sidewalk. Thoroughly drunk, he thinks about hiding in Wade and Al's apartment until this Christmas is over. Seriously, is it New Year's yet? He was losing his damn mind over this entire month.

Down a back alleyway, he pukes into a dumpster. He might've overdone it this time. How long was he even at the bar? You were so going to chew into him about this. A loud crash behind him had him jumping. He spins around, ready for some fight. Instead, little pawprints in the snow catch his eye. They lead to the smallest drain pipe Logan's ever seen. He kneels down, feeling the snow soak into his pants as he peers into the pipe. A little black and white kitten with yellow eyes stares back at him.

Maybe he wasn't entirely fucked this Christmas after all.

"Hey, bub." He greets the kitten, "Wanna c'mon out?"

He sticks a finger into the drain pipe and recoils when the kitten slices it open with a claw.

"Motherfucker!" He curses at the sudden, unexpected pain. The cat hisses from inside the pipe and Logan groans.

He sticks his face closer to the pipe and the kitten backs up a few small steps.

"Listen here, you little shit stain. You're going to save my ass tomorrow morning, so get out here. Or so help me I'll- "

The animal mockingly meows in his face.

A can of tuna from the corner store, and multiple scratches later, Logan is victorious. The black and white kitten has been secured. Logan has it tightly bundled up in his jacket, in an effort to not only keep it warm but also keep it from scratching his eyes out.

When he reaches the apartment, he pushes the door open and calls your name. Lucky for him, you're still out with Vanessa. He enters the bathroom and shuts it behind him.

"Bath time you little monster. I can't have you stinking tomorrow up."

The kitten, despite it's size is elusively strong. It wiggles out of Logan's grasp multiple times and somehow manages to have his entire shirt soaked from the water that he's filled the sink with.

"It's warm water. Just gotta rinse the soap off." He reasons with the animal as it scratches at the door.

"Is someone in here?" Laura's voice calls

"Yeah, It's me. Bathroom!" He yells back

The bathroom door swings open just as he snatches the kitten back up and Laura stares at him in bewilderment.

"What are you doing? Is that a cat?"

"No, he's the devil. Help me rinse it." Logan huffs

To his dismay, Laura is able to get the cat to stay relatively still under the running water as she rinses the soap off.

"Where did you find a kitten? That local pet store is sold out." She says

"You know that bar a few blocks away?" He asks

"The one you go to when you stress drink?" Laura asks, her eyes narrowing in suspicion

Logan shoots her a look but nods, " I found him in a drain pipe nearby."

Laura coos down at the little animal as she wraps a big towel around it.

"What's its name?" She asks as she dries it off

"I dunno. Frank?" He shrugs sitting down on the edge of the tub

"Not everything can be named Frank," Laura judges him

"Alright, fine." He huffs, and a wreath that you hung on the bathroom door catches his eye. Jingle bells that gleam in the light are decorated with holly and berries adorn the wreath.

"Jingle. Or maybe Bell." He says staring at the wet kitten who seems hypnotized by Laura.

"Sounds good to me." She smiles at the kitten who meows back, "Hello, Jingle."

Logan sighs in relief and stands up, "Hide Jingle in your room."

"Where are you going?" Laura asks as he exits the bathroom

"Jingle needs a place to shit. We need cat stuff."

The next day, Logan is woken up by you gently kissing his neck.

"Morning." He mumbles

"Good morning." You smile, "It's Christmas."

He nods with a small grin.

"C'mon time to get up." You huff and stand up to pull at his arm

"What are you five?" He groans as you fail to move him

"Yes. Now get up."

Presents opened and a million pictures taken, Logan feels even more tired than when he went to bed last night.

To his glee, Laura loves the boots, and he's even managed to get the right size. Darlene as it turns out is full of good ideas.

"Last one." He says to you, "Put your hands out and close your eyes."

You give him a look like he's about to prank you.

"Wade put a cicada in your hands one time and now you distrust everyone?" He asks

"Yes. That was the scariest moment of my life." You affirm

"Just shut your eyes." Logan huffs

He has somehow gotten Jingle to stay in a little basket he found in the closet and he gingerly places it into your hands. The kitten shifts and nearly tips the basket over as you open your eyes.

"Logan!" You gasp, looking between him and the black-and-white fuzz ball.

"Like it? That orange one was gone when I got to the store. But I-"

You're jumping off the couch and tossing your arms around his broad shoulders. Jingle still sitting in his basket.

"I love him." You smile, leaning in for a kiss

"Good. You have no idea what I went through to get him for you." He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, aware that Laura is watching and just a sentence away from teasing him.

"What's his name?" You ask as he lets you go, "Or are you a girl?"

Logan hadn't bothered to check as he shrugs and you pick the kitten up, lifting it's little tail up.

"A boy...I think" You say

"We were going with Jingle." He says looking at Laura who nods, "But you can change it."

"I think that's perfect." You smile, petting the animal's head.

Luckily this cat likes you a lot more than it liked him yesterday. Logan's eyes narrow at the way the cat stares at him, what was this animal's deal?

"So how'd you get him?" You ask curiously

"Would you believe me if I said I nicely talked to him and then let him follow me home?"

"No, not in a thousand years."

Logan chuckles as you smile back at him. Alright, maybe the holidays aren't so bad. He still thinks New Years could come quicker though.

Next Extra

I was feeling like I needed Christmas when I wrote this. Fun fact, originally I was going to have Logan tell the reader he loved them with a kitten at Christmas. Scrapped that for the scene in the yard at the school. :)

Also, I've gotten a couple of anons sliding into my inbox asking if I'm doing kinktober or anything like that. I am not unfortunately as I have a busy college schedule that is somehow getting even busier... that being said I do still plan to write just not on a daily basis.

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[hearts0hearts]

♡⃘ 𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒!𝒯𝑜𝒷𝒾 ♡⃕⠀𝒪𝒷𝒾𝓉𝑜 Headcanons

Summary ; you met a boy in a mask who tripped over nothing, called you pretty, and asked about dango. now you sleep in a house you didn’t choose

TW ; obito is uhm not well. heavy 'normal' yandere behavior/themes, obsession, stalking, captivity, emotional manipulation, implied murder, dissociation???, forced romantic affection, obito putting the reader into a genjutsu at end

A/N ; fem!reader ,, totally will make a masterlist soon ,, srry if the dividers r ugly i made them :') this been stuck in drafts for a week lol

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!tobi ; was just a stranger with a mask. loud, silly, and weird, standing behind you in line for dango. he tripped over nothing, pointed to the menu upside down, and chirped,

"Hii hi~!! Tobi’s never been here before!!! What do you think I should try, pretty lady?~"

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!tobi ; became a familiar shadow. always showing up at the market, humming your name, insisting on carrying your basket like it was sacred. he'd grin behind the mask and ask,

"Still love red bean mochi the most, huh?~ Tobi remembers everything about you~"

you...never told him that.

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!tobi ; coincidentally passed your house daily. showed up when you were out watering plants. "Ah~, how funny!! we see eachother again!!~" he’d say….too many times.

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!tobi ; called them dango dates. you thought they were just snacks with a friend. he’d spin in circles when you agreed to go. didn’t even eat half the time. just stared behind the mask.

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!tobi ; laughed loudly. always acted clumsy. but one night you said,

“Oh tobi~, you’re such a good friend!~”

'friend'

and he went very quiet.

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!obito ; followed you when you left the village late. silent in the trees. no mask. watching to ensure no one else touched what he'd started to consider his.

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!obito ; stood over you while you slept. didn’t mean to. just... wanted to be closer. moonlight on your face, breathing slow, fingers curled in your blanket.

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!obito ; stole little things. your hair tie. your teacup. a page from your journal. you thought you were forgetful. he thought they belonged with him now.

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!obito ; kept a shrine in the dark. old photos, some with his face blurred in windows, some taken while you laughed, unaware. your scarf folded neatly beside them.

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!tobi ; started asking you strange questions.

"Would you still like me if I wasn’t so silly?"

you laughed. said "of course!"

he didn’t.

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!tobi ; one day didn’t dance. didn’t laugh. didn’t say a thing when you teased him.

you blinked, confused.

"Tobi?"

his head tilted slowly. deeper voice...,

"Don’t call me that."

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!tobi ; was quiet the whole walk home. too quiet. until he suddenly spun around and threw his hands in the air like nothing happened.

"Ahaha~! Tobi’s just being dramatic! Silly Tobi!"

...but you noticed his hands shaking.

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!tobi ; got sweeter after that. clingier. more romantic. he picked you flowers and called them your "love offerings."

"Because pretty girls deserve pretty things!!!~"

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!tobi ; brushed your hair out of your eyes. said you looked like a dream. his fingertips lingered too long on your cheek.

"You like when I touch you... don’t you?"

you didn’t answer. he smiled like you did.

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!tobi ; held your hips when helping you down from a ledge. soft. reverent. like he’d break if he let go.

"You fit right in my hands…"

he whispered it like a prayer.

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!tobi ; called you his angel. his doll. his pretty thang. painted your name in the dirt like a child and danced around it. whispered that you were safest with him, only him.

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!obito ; was starting to bleed through. you saw him once. in the woods. no mask. just that red eye burning through the trees. gone when you blinked.

you told Tobi.

he said;

“Oooh, spooky~! Tobi will protect you from ghosts!”

but he was shaking.

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!tobi ; asked if he could show you something. took your hand, slow and serious. led you into the forest behind your home.

"Close your eyes~! No peeking!"

you didn’t.

he wanted you to see it.

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!obito ; had built a shrine. candles. photos. scraps of your handwriting. your scarf folded with care. your name written a hundred times in the dirt.

"Tobi made this… for you. But Tobi’s not real."

his mask tilted.

"You know who I am now, don’t you?"

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!obito ; carved a space for you in his world. soft sheets. warm tea. silence. you never saw the outside again. but inside, he made it so perfect, it was hard to remember what you were missing.

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!tobi ; once sang you a lullaby soaked in blood. his gloves were wet. he held your face like a doll. “They looked at you. But don’t worry~ Tobi fixed it~”

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ��₎ yandere!obito ; told you, "The world doesn’t deserve you." and he meant it. believed it. that’s why he stole you away. why he made sure no one could find you. no one ever will.

you asked him once,

"why me?" voice small, fragile. "why me, obito?" he stared for a long time. like the question wounded him. "because you looked at me like i was worth saving," he whispered. "You smiled like you'd never seen the monster. you made me feel…real." he said it like a confession, like a sin. "i had to have you before the world ruined it."

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!obito ; heard you say you just wanted to be normal. wanted to go home. to work and laugh and feel the sun. he shook his head. gripped your hands too tightly. "normal is cruel," he murmured. "normal forgets. ignores. breaks people like us." his voice cracked when he said us. like he couldn’t bear the thought of you not being his.

₍ა ≧ ꕀ ≦ ૮₎ yandere!obito ; kissed your knuckles. held them to his face. said you were the only good thing that ever touched him. "you don’t see it yet," he said, eyes glowing. "but this… this is love without limit. this is forever." and when you cried, he smiled softly. "one day, you’ll thank me." and thus

one day, you said it.

quiet. half broken.

"i ...i think i love you."

and he froze.

Tobi would’ve jumped. danced. clapped.

but Obito?

he leaned in. voice heavy. low.

"Who?"

you looked into the glowing eye.

you saw the truth.

you whispered:

"you...the real you.."

he exhaled. touched your face like it was glass.

"Say it again."

and when you did-

"i…l..love…y...you.."

he kissed your forehead like it was the final piece of a puzzle, finally snapping into place.

"Good girl. You're mine now."

now, you live in a dream.

a fantasy.

a genjutsu. . .

because there’s no one else. just him.

𖧧 do not steal, luvs. © 2025 hearts0hearts — all words are mine. no copying • no funny business ᭢᱖ likes & reblogs r appreciated <3

[coolingrosa]

ALSO WHILE IM AT IT

Stop blaming Dream for not knowing about the villagers. Yes, Nightmare was clearly hurt and being abused, but everyone forgets that DREAM WAS EIGHT YEARS OLD. He can not psychologically comprehend abuse- let along physical- and can hardly understand what bullying is. He’s an elementary schooler. He doesn’t know how to pick apart the signs of abuse from another eight year old who also doesn’t comprehend what is happening to him. Dream had no idea the apple incident could happen. He doesn’t even comprehend what depression is or mental health stuff at all. HE IS EIGHT. No matter the amount of signs, he is a child who is mentally incapable of noticing what’s happening to his brother, and it’s up to adults to notice stuff like that, but it’s the ADULTS who failed them.

They were both children, and yes, having Dream feel guilty as an adult for not noticing is a valid thought he’d have, but you yourself blaming him too is not. Even if Dream did somehow comprehend what was happening, HES EIGHT.

To give a better perspective on what eight year old milestones are and how little Dream could do with his mental capacity….

-they start to learn how to count by 2s (Dream likely couldn’t Read very well because nobody taught him)

-still are losing their baby teeth

-Have a black-and-white perspective much of the time. Things are either great or awful, ugly or beautiful, right or wrong. They focus on one trait or idea at a time. This makes it hard for them to understand complex issues. AHEM???

-sfill don’t have a full grasp of grammar in writing or speech

-just starting to learn to tie their shoes

He was a literal baby who didn’t know how to tie his shoes without help. Hoe the hell was he supposed to stop adults from abusing his brother? He couldn’t tell anyone, because all the adults besides Neil were against them. And also FUCK NEIL. Neil DISNT step in to help baby Nightmare, only Dream. FUCK THAT CAT. HE LET TWO EIGHT YEAR OLFS LIVE OUTSIDE AND GET ABUSED BY A VILLAGE OF ADULTS. HE IS NOT A GOOD FATHER FIGURE FOR DREAM HE DID NOTHING WHILE THEY WERE BEING ABUSED BESIDES GIVE DREAM ENCOURAGEMENT.

Edit: yeah apparently he was six so fuck y’all even more he’s a kindergartner I’m gonna kill someone that poor baby

[demothers-empty-blog]

This Means War

CW: continuation of this here oh! brief mention of the devil’s lettuce if that’s not your cup of tea🍃

You sound like an old married couple, that’s how far things have escalated. Between the wisecracks and the snarky remarks, it’s a wonder to anyone how you two managed to get together, let alone stay together.

You humble each other, in some odd, almost mean sort of way.

Still at the end of the day, all quips long forgotten, you’re the same couple who’d snuggle up in each other’s arms, smoke a blunt, then hop on the game while you order some take-out. Around the 10 minutes mark, you forget all about ordering food and it always comes as a surprise.

It was the small domestics in life that kept you grounded outside of the military. Only problem is, you get gabby when you’re high.

“There’s a glint on the rooftops - watch your six - frag - enemy to your right - how did that hit?” And so on and so forth. A man can only take so much of his girl’s yammering.

You open your mouth to say something again, only to have your very helpful input silenced by one of König’s diabolical kisses with tongue.

“It’s like dating your best friend,” König presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, the overlapping chatter in the mess hall morphs into a distant white noise in the presence of your lover.

His kiss quickly turns into a nip, he takes his slight frustration out on your cheek and you’re suddenly pulled out of your blissful bubble. “A friend who’s constantly offering me dares, only to tell me ‘no balls’ when I refuse to do them.”

It feels so out of place seeing their leader being reduced to such (sickly) sweetness over the one who makes him want to pull out his hair on most days, the complete look of utter repugnance Horangi makes goes unnoticed.

If his big, bastard brute of a Colonel can find love, why the hell couldn’t he?

“Disgusting,” he mutters with a shake of his head, willingly choosing to sit next to literally anybody else other than the newest lovebirds. Aksel and the grotesque details over his last op weren’t much of an upgrade but it was far better than watching you two bite and suck face.

König gets bored on base, easily. He needs a quick distraction between tasks, his mind buzzing about like a bee until it lands on a flower.

That flower would oftentimes be you.

He would walk up to you, shadow box you then walk away like nothing happened. He’d trip you over just so he could catch you in his arms like in the movies, dipping you until the blood rushes to your head.

König with time to kill is a menace, never give that man any spare time, he’ll start switching things around and you learned that the hard way.

He’ll replace the sugar in your coffee with salt, then laugh like a hyena when you make a face. You retaliate by seasoning his food, knowing he can’t handle spice like you do.

It once took you six days to notice he switched all the pictures in his office to you, specifically the ones where you deemed yourself ‘ugly’.

The one on his desk was of you snoring, mouth wide like a fish, wearing an eye mask that read fuck off. The other one near the cabinets was a mounted frame of you getting smacked in the face by a rainbow trout on your fishing trip.

The last one by the printer is his personal favourite, disheveled you hunched over a canvas with the posture of a shrimp, painting a scenery of his hometown in Austria.

You didn’t have the heart to switch them back, but you did decide to pepper your office in equally embarrassing pictures, like the one with König buried in the sand at the beach with only his head sticking out.

After the war, comes peace.

König’s never been the one for grand declarations, all the poems he’s ever read suddenly vanish from memory. In the presence of his beloved, his mind fizzles and he finds himself wanting to say everything and nothing at all. He relishes the small, quiet moments with you.

When words fail, actions take place.

Unfortunately, you are two of the most painfully awkward people to have walked this planet, circling around the idea of being loved for the very first time.

Your actions are odd, almost mean but you mean well by them, König doesn’t seem to mind.

🔖tag list: @lostintransist @comat0se @silentmoor @ihe4rtme @nemuranaifukuro @laduenadelswing @crazybiaatch

[wormtailfest]

Tale of Tails: A Peter Pettigrew Fest

The Wormtail Fest is proud to present...

Tale of Tails: the good, the bad, and the ugly

Tale of Tails is a fest which aims to explore the complexity of Peter Pettigrew as a character, discover the flexibility of his personality outside of being the traitor, and shine the spotlight on our forgotten Marauder!

Open to anyone 18+ who wants to create art, edits or fics about Peter

Either a Peter POV, or a Peter-centric fic through any POV

Completed one-shot, completed multi-chapter fic, or first chapter of a longer fic

All themes and ratings allowed

No minimum or maximum word count

Sign-ups: May 1st-June 30th

Submissions due: October 26th

Reveals: October 31st

For more detailed information please check out under the cut!

SIGN-UP HERE

Sign-Ups

From May 1st-June 30th, you can fill out the form to sign up to create fics, art, or edits. You’ll then receive an invite to the fest Discord server! Everyone participating in the fest is required to be in the server since that’s where we’ll be sharing updates and other info, and it's where you can meet and chat with fellow fans! If you don't/can't have a discord account for whatever reason but still want to participate please reach out to us!

Creation time

Once you sign-up you'll get invited to join the fest discord server, where you can discuss your fest plans and your work, connect with beta readers, and have lots of other discussions about Peter or other fun topics.

We’ll have a check-ins over the course of the creation period to help motivate and keep everyone on track.

By the end of Sunday October 26th, you must have your work uploaded on AO3 and added to the fest collection TaleOfTails25, or send your edits to one of the mods so we know you’ve finished it, and then on October 31st you’ll post it with the hashtag #TaleOfTails25. 

Collection link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TaleOfTails25

For fics, this should be either a completed one-shot or a multi-chapter work with at least one completed chapter.

Reveal time

Friday October 31st, the saddest day of our fandom, we’ll lighten it up by posting all of your works about our favourite traitor! 

In the following couple weeks (depending on how many submissions we get) we’ll be encouraging promotion and engagement with everybody’s works as much as we can. Stay tuned for more info on that after we get an idea of how many participants we’re going to have & how best to do it.

Rules:

Fest & server rules

·   This fest & server are intended for Peter centricity. We aim to uplift his character in a community that generally forgets him/waters his character down. Any creations in exploring him further, in whatever way your creativity takes you is welcomed.

·   Discussion of JKR herself and related topics is heavily discouraged in the server so that everyone feels comfortable. This fest does not endorse giving JKR monetary support, such as buying merch or watching the HBO show, and discussion of these topics should be done elsewhere. Any statements supporting JKR’s beliefs on trans people are prohibited in the server and fest, and are grounds for immediate removal and banning from the fest. Any racism, homophobia, misogyny, or other bigotry will result in a ban.

·   Since this fest may contain explicit and dark content, it is only open to 18+ creators. You must be 18 years old at the time of signing up and joining the Discord server. If you're turning 18 during the sign-up period please make sure to only fill out the form after your birthday.

·   Follow fandom etiquette so everything can run smoothly. Don’t like don’t read (DL;DR), Ship and Let Ship (SALS); your kink is not my kink, but your kink is OK (YKINMKBYKIOK)

Creation rules

·   Your works have no minimum or maximum word limit, write as much or as little as you want!

·   Your fic doesn’t have to be from Peter’s POV, but the whole story does have to revolve around him; it must be a Peter-centric work.

·   Beta readers are encouraged but not required. Co-writing is welcomed!

·   Fics must be tagged appropriately. You are required to use correct tagging for themes such as nsfw, non-con, dub-con, or incest, so that we (your mods) and you (the participants) can know what they’re reading before they start reading. Mods will reach out to you if there’s a tag you need to add!

·   Any use of generative AI is strictly banned from the fest.

Any questions we haven’t answered?

Feel free to contact us on any of our platforms!

Tumblr: tumblr.com/wormtailfest

Tiktok: wormtailfest.tot

Email: wormtailfest.tot@gmail.com

Mods: 

Sky

tumblr: lonely-parrot

discord: lonely_parrot

Alexis

tumblr: keepmycandleburning

discord: keepmycandleburning

MJ

tumblr: moonsflowerr

discord: mjeno.

Lei

tumblr: vespeelira

discord: bobothebuilder

Leo

tumblr: colourfuldesert

Pixel

discord: colourful_desert

tumblr: neonandfuckinggarbage / badmoonrose

discord: wolfdogboy

[kindaasrikal]

Morro is like those eggs you try to perfectly crack open except your thumb slides in and destroys the yolk, leading you to drop everything else onto the pan messily because you might’ve made a small mistake but it made all the difference.

Lloyd is like when you find an egg so ugly looking and and dirty that you don’t want it, yet its the only egg in the batch that cracks smoothly, leaving you to eat one of the best eggs ever made.

Nya is like when you keep tapping an egg on a corner/counter yet the shell is so hard it won’t break or give you something to help you break it. You’ll never find out what’s inside.

Zane is like those eggs you crack open easily and happily, only to be disappointed when the yolk is missing. So you try to make do with what you have, when it’s the only egg you have.

Kai is the eggs that must be gently cracked open, bit by bit to reap the riches inside. Yet sometimes what lies inside isn’t enough. Its not fulfilling enough. The egg was not big or not flavourful and it left a bad taste in your mouth.

Jay’s the eggs that broke in the package, spilling across all the others and covering them with everything it is. And if you don’t like it it’s something you must accept, because it cannot go back to what it once was. It wasn’t strong enough then, and he isn’t strong enough now.

Cole is the eggs that are pure white, clean as can be. The shell is hard, yet not too much so that it’s difficult to break. The crack is perfect as he’s split open into two halves, only for half of the inside of the eggs to spill off the pan, making a mess no one wants to clean.

Pixal is the eggs that was one too many in its bunch, one too many eggs that were given, leaving it the only unwanted one everyone wants to throw away or feed to another when you don’t want nor need it.

Harumi is the egg that is barely holding itself together, almost breaking under all the tension and pressure it faced as it was jostled around recklessly as if its owner did not care, let alone know, how fragile an egg can be. The egg is covered in cracks, and its almost like its insides might spill, but it clings on desperately together to fulfil its purpose.

Skylor is an egg that gets left behind. The egg that was forgotten in its nest as the rest are shipped away, the odd one out no one needed.

Echo is that one egg left in the package, yet you buy a new one as you forget the old one waiting to be used before it rots into nothingness.

Yes, this is completely and utterly about eggs.

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

you know what's delicious? yn who started wearing flavored lip balm/lip tint because of suguru — so that every time suguru ate a curse, he could just easily pull the man into a kiss to get rid of the disgusting taste suguru hates so much ((bonus points if yn also pops in a candy/sweet/chocolate in his mouth before feeding it to suguru through a kiss — anything to help suguru forget the taste of curses)) yeah... just... suguruyn for the win man 😋🫶

((even more bonus points when satoru finds out later and he gets all jelly because 1. he doesn't know the lip balm/lip tint can come with a flavor so he felt blindsided and of course, he humphs and puffs because of it and 2. he wanted a chocolatey sweetness kissies too!!!! and of course lastly, 3. he felt left out because he never knows that suguruyn always makes out every single time suguru ate a curse so he's all pouty about it — ask him to join in next time!!!))

❝ He's just like candy, he's so sweet ❞

polycule (Satoru x r! x Suguru)) | alternate universes (Suguru is not a cult-reader), fluff, NSFW | vers. bottom. reader (AMAB) | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 3.6k

warnings: foodplay, threesomes, pouty satoru & smug suguru, semi-public sex, d/s dynamics

masterlist; part 1; part 2; part 3; alternate ending; playlist; au's and what if's

author's note: in this au, they slayed the links that made me lose my mind (thank you @xuxitheii for making me squeal and kick my feet): geto suguru : gojo satoru : gojo satoru being a big baby

Curses. Ugly as sin and tastes just as foul. Suguru remembers the first time he discovered he could devour them; how awful it felt as it went down his throat, bulging out and staying there — blocking his airway as he struggled to find it in himself to swallow.

The way his teeth ached. His throat convulsed and his instincts forced it back up but his fingers blocked it from doing so. It warbled in the back of his mouth, begging to be let out and 7-year-old Suguru just knew he couldn’t bear for it to disturb him again. He couldn’t handle it speaking nonsensically into his ear, slinking under his bed or even staring right at him as it grinned so wide Suguru swore he could see his reflection in its yellow, wicked-sharp, teeth.

The pills his parents (his poor, non-sorcerer, parents) had given him to help with his “hallucinations” made him feel as though a thick fog was obscuring his brain. His thoughts faded and his movement groggy, his emotions caged while his body still felt the anxious tremors that ran through him when he saw them.

The curses made him feel like he was constantly in a deep pit of despair. Everything wrong in the world, the depravity and impulses of humanity that manifested into these grotesque creatures in the palm of his hands made his nose sting, till this day, as an 18-year-old; it made his eyes well with tears.

Suguru can't describe it in a way people could understand. But if asked, he’d used the viscera of a vomit rag being forced down your throat.

But the strong protect the weak. While your lips protect them from his ire. This one goes down with a loud gulp, his fingers blocking his lips as he tosses his head back. The worst is almost over, the aftertaste will linger but not for long. Because then, he feels your weight on his chest and Suguru is pliant as you gently pry his fingers away.

“You did a good job, baby.” Suguru flutters his eyes open and he can’t help the way his lips twitch eagerly. Your lips are glossier than usual, he can smell the cherry flavour on them. His hands wrap themselves around your waist. It’s a firm grip.

Mine, he says without speaking, mine — all mine.

He pulls and a huff of air escapes you in a series of chuckles. “I know we haven’t been out in a while, but did you miss me that much, Su-Su?” Suguru frowns at your jest. It’s rare for him to pout. That role is often delegated to your boyfriend, Satoru. So this must truly upset him.

Because, yes, he did.

You’d been called overseas to complete a mission. It was the norm for sorcerers considering the population of sorcerers in Japan; outsourcing they called it. Your curse technique was needed for this mission and truly, it didn’t take long but Suguru had done solo missions and he missed you.

Three solo missions. Three disgusting, dog-shit, vomit-stained rags, down his throat. Three days without you by his side.

He hated it.

“Don’t ask a silly question like that ever again,” he mumbles. Silly. The way he scolds you always makes you smile. Never crass or rude — his voice reminds you of the symphony of leaves singing with the wind as they danced and speckled light onto the forest floors and cool water bubbling over rocks.

“Why? Why can’t I ask silly questions?” You tease, placing your elbows on his shoulder and hanging your hands behind him. Purposefully lax despite the coquettish smile on your face.

“You already know the answer.” He speaks with such sincerity. Every word is heavy with nothing but candour and adoration. It makes your eyes soften and Suguru squeezes you closer.

“I do?” He nods at your words, the tip of his nose brushing over yours and his tan skin so flushed on the apples of his cheeks.

“Kiss me like you miss me, baby.”

Suguru’s lips land on yours like a feather. Supple as always he begins it with a long-lasting peck. Pouty lip against pouty lip. His hands climb up your back and he presses between your shoulder blades to somehow hold you closer; his jaw opens and yours does the same. There it is — that heaven that’s your mouth. Suguru groans and you feel his tongue sneaking in, devouring you like a starved man.

The cherry flavour on your lips, the sweetness of the candy you let melt on your tongue, the way your fingers grip his hair, the way he can feel your breath on his cheek as you try to breathe. He wishes that the two of you never needed air. Suguru wants nothing more than to kiss you forever and ever and ever —

“Hey!”

You part with a gasp, cheeks warm and lips almost bruised as the line of spit between the two of you breaks. At the mouth of the alleyway was your boyfriend; Gojo Satoru.

His arms are crossed and he taps his foot in a cartoonish fashion. Despite that, both of you know that the frown on his face is very much real. “What gives? I exorcised the other curses and I came back to the two of you making out. So unfair!”

Suguru parts with a sigh, rolling his eyes to the side and pouting his lips to the side as he muttered about Satoru having FOMO. It makes you giggle and he smiles when you lean forward to place your face right under his jaw.

“S’toru, you’re being a baby. Suguru did a lot of work and I was just thanking him.” Satoru unfolds his arms and flaps them around in protest.

“I did work too!”

And it has begun — Satoru’s famous little tantrums. Oh, he could go for a full hour if he was really worked up but there is a saving grace in him having them. He closes his eyes when he’s yappering. Suguru is listening to his huffy boyfriend but then you kiss his chin and he tilts his face down to look at you.

“Hm?” your teeth brush over his lower lips, then plant firmly on his. “Baby?” he smiles in the lip-locking and you whine about it because his lips should not stretch into that handsome smile, they should be pursed outward and part to let you in.

He tastes chocolate on your tongue. The creaminess of the chocolate makes him groan along with the citrusy notes. That combined with the fruitiness of the cherry tint on your lips makes the taste of the curses he’d ingested (exorcised) all but disappear. Your hands climb to the lobe of his ears and his breath hitches when your fingers trail the curve of it, he protests a bit as you undo his bun; then you whisper his name and Suguru tightens his grip on your waist.

“Hey!”

Satoru is whining again but this time he’s closer. Close enough for Suguru to grab a fistful of Satoru’s white button-up and pull him in. As his face turns you giggle, wiping away some smeared gloss as you watch Satoru turn red from Suguru’s heated kiss.

Satoru groans with his eyebrows twitching. Listless in his attempt to remain angry at Suguru. He pounds his fist against Suguru’s shoulder and attempts to crane his neck away. When he turns, he gasps as you steal his breath.

Satoru’s graceful legs tumble over themselves as his boyfriends press him to the rough wall of the alleyway. There’s a constant hum of an A/C machine and the noises from the pipes keep the intimate noises between the three of you contained. Suguru’s blunt nails drag onto the faded plastered-on advertisements — yours grip onto the bars of the window that had been covered up by old newspapers.

Satoru’s grip onto the front of both of your shirts. His glasses go askew as he struggles to keep up with his boyfriends. Suguru misses Satoru so much. He’d been away too, the Higher Ups sending him overseas at the same time as you and Shoko had to deal with a depressed Suguru for those 3 days.

“Mah, Satoru,” you drag your lips to Satoru’s sensitive neck. His hands don’t seem to know what to do with themselves. It grips and pushes and stutters. “I always give Suguru special kisses after a job well done, you’ve just always been too busy to notice.”

“S’not fair,” Satoru retorts with no real venom in his words. “I deserve special kisses too, don’t I?” Suguru chuckles, forcing Satoru to look his way and shut him up. Satoru glares over the rim of his crooked glasses as Suguru’s thumb presses down on his canines.

“What a jealous brat.”

“Can’t even handle a little teasing.”

Satoru would heavily disagree with that. A little teasing? You called being pushed to a wall, groped, kissed, and bitten by your handsome and powerful boyfriends a little teasing?

Satoru was a sign of change, his birth instantly tipped the scales of the sorcerer world, but he was still human!

Suguru grins that irritatingly pleased grin when Satoru’s protests die out thanks to your hands slipping down his pants. “Oh shit,” he hisses. His speech is odd with Suguru’s thumb in his mouth, casually inspecting it. But you laugh anyway.

“You know, since he has been away too, maybe he does deserve a bit of sugar from you, (Y/N).” You glance at Suguru, your cock chubbing up in your pants as he pointedly motions his gaze to the ground. You kneel in front of Satoru and drool slips down his chin as his pupils chase after you. Suguru chuckles, wiping it away and wiping it off on Satoru’s shirt — to which he hears no complaint. Suguru stands behind you, bending at his waist to peer down. It’s unfair how pretty he is from any angle. The Gods took their time making him. Of that, you are certain.

“Ready, sweetheart?” you nod, opening your saccharine-sweet mouth; Suguru pats your cheek as praise and undoes Satoru’s pants for you. His cock springs out, nearly bumping into your nose as it strains and twitches in the open air. When Suguru holds it, Satoru grunts and raises his hips. Fucking into his fist like a dog in heat. Suguru regards this with a shake of his head and guides Satoru to your mouth. You form a fist around your thumb, looking up at Satoru through your lashes as you wrap your lips around him.

Suguru straightens his composure. He takes in the sight.

Satoru and you know better than to be handsy. The pale-haired man grabs onto the bars of the window behind him, breathing through his nose as the toe of his shoes dig into the floors. You slip your eyelids close and languish in the taste of Satoru’s cock — breathing through your nose as well as you bob your head.

Fuck, Suguru missed this. He really did. He could get off on this alone. Just watched as both of you enjoyed the other. His darling boyfriends, who so obediently listen to his whims even if he didn’t say it out loud.

Who could ask for more?

Suguru strokes over your eyebrow and barely stifles a laugh when you tilt your head so Satoru’s tip pokes your cheeks.

“Good boy. My sweet boy.”

His voice alone makes you want to give in to whatever it is he asks of you — it’s insane how much power and sway he has. Your charming Suguru.

Satoru moans, swiftly reaching out and gripping onto the collar of Suguru’s top. They kiss. Fighting for dominance because Satoru needs to be pushed into submission. He relishes being put in his place — smacked around a little.

You could pinpoint this kink originating from his frivolous childhood and naturally talented self needing some sort of edge to sink down into a more fuzzy headspace.

Or perhaps Satoru was just a brat and he trusted his lovers enough to relinquish that control. Both theories worked.

Suguru grunts as Satoru tugs at his hair, the pleasant tinge of pain making his dick strain against his loose pants. You spot it from the corner of your eyes, an obscene slurping sound coming from you as you attempt to not make this blowjob too messy. An impossible task, really. But a worthy effort.

“Your lips taste like cherry, why?” Satoru’s question catches Suguru off-guard. He expected Satoru’s usual quips and huffiness. He indulges.

“(Y/N) wore cherry-flavoured lipgloss.”

The proof is in the coloured streaks on his dick. You feel it twitch on your tongue and pull away, your hot breath on his cockhead making precum leak out of his blushing tip. You rest it on your velvet tongue, unabashedly pouting to kiss the tip and then taking him inside again. Those slightly shimmery streaks made Satoru grit his teeth.

“I didn’t know those came in flavours,” Satoru moans. “How come you don’t wear that for me too?”

“Because it’s for me, you little shithead,” Suguru growls lowly. Their foreheads touch as he tightens his grip on Satoru’s neck, the pressure making Satoru’s eyelids flutter for a second. “It’s my prize for exorcising curses.”

“You jealous?” you wonder out loud. The answer was clear but there was a rush to make Satoru admit it.

“Yes, I am!” He curses for a moment as you descend further down to lick at his balls, looking up at him still as if this conversation was taking place over a dinner table and not in an alleyway with society just a few meters away. As if his dick wasn't on your face while you feel his balls tightening up on your tongue.

Seriously, if somebody peered down long enough they would most definitely catch sight of the three of you here.

“I just – just...fuck, I missed the two of you too. It’s completely unfair you’ve been keeping this from me too! I’ll never forgive you.”

Suguru grabs the back of your neck and pulls you backward. His large hands effectively push your head down further and further until your nose is at the neat patch of pubic hair Satoru has. You relax your throat and jaw, eyes watering while you brace your hands on Satoru’s thighs.

“So why didn’t you just tell us that, darling?" Suguru purrs. "Instead, you chose to be a brat and stomp around. You’re better than that, Satoru. Aren’t you? Hm?”

You gag but Suguru holds you in place. His hand barely has any real strength behind it. If you jerked backward, he would not hold you in place. No, no. Suguru’s power comes from the lack of strength he needs to exhibit. His dominance is in the ease Suguru commands it.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You needed him inside of you.

“Screw you, Suguru,” Satoru chokes out.

He pulls you off. You cough, spit staining your chin as you smile loosely at them. Suguru then pulls you onto your feet, pushes you to the wall, and undoes your pants. You bite down on your lower lip, staring at Satoru as you brace your hands onto the wall just next to him. Satoru watches on, trying to keep himself strong by pretending he isn’t affected by the sight before him.

Suguru gathers spit in his mouth but pauses as he feels the candy wrapper in your pockets. The chocolate brand makes his brows raise. It’s expensive. No doubt Satoru’s influence had rubbed off on you. Only one company in the world made this chocolate, its pink colour is a dead giveaway. No wonder your cherry-flavoured gloss tasted so strong, it was complimented nicely by the leftover taste of this ruby chocolate.

He lets your pants pool around your ankles while he takes a bite. It wasn’t disgustingly soft, but your body heat made it melt quickly on his tongue. He spreads your ass apart and spits a thick glob of his spit and pink chocolate. The sensation sends shivers up your back and you arch your back further, unsure about the new sensation.

“Suguru, that was expensive — ngh!”

Your eyes widen as he presses his cock inside. You were thankful for your morning romp with them. It loosened you up enough that Suguru’s impatience didn’t cause pain and only mild discomfort — he reaches forward to jerk your cock off to ebb it away and you moan out his name.

“Shh, shh, not so loud. We’re still outside, baby.”

Satoru groans, reaching to toss his glasses away as he turns his back to the entrance and gives you his full attention. He’s craving touch. To taste or to mark you up. To do anything, really. He is goddamn hypnotized by the way Suguru’s dick thrusts in and out of you. Suguru gives you a good fucking for too short of a time — pounding into you like a jackhammer and making you nearly bite your tongue off in an attempt to keep quiet before he pulls out.

Your knees buckle, thighs twitching as you try to keep yourself upright. Satoru’s knees thud onto the floor and he greedily laps at Suguru’s cock, moaning at the creamy taste. The same flavour leaks out of you while you catch your breath. The mouth of the alleyway is quiet but there are still the faint noises of the city just there. A few big strides away. But there. It excites you. You imagine it’s exciting your equally perverted boyfriends too.

"Satoru," Suguru groans at the sight of him. You peel yourself from the wall. Shoulders thudding onto the hard surface while your pants drop to your ankles. Shakily, you use your feet to push it all the way off, eyes trained on Satoru savouring the flavour of Suguru and the ruby chocolate. He pulls away with a breathy 'pwah!' and strokes Suguru's creamy dick.

You're tempted to join Satoru. Just sharing Suguru's cock, kissing Satoru with his cockhead between your lips. Fuck, just the thought has your dick slapping lightly against your navel. Suguru plants a hand near your head, turning his head to kiss you while the other is tugging on the roots of Satoru's head. a

"Both of my boys are being so obedient," he says after a deliciously deep groan of Satoru's name. "We missed you," you reply in a whiny whisper.

"Missed you so much, S'guru..."

Satoru moans, pulling away as he catches his breath and shares a heated gaze.

"Fuck, I missed you so badly. Missed this dick too," Satoru turns to your crotch and kisses the underside of your dick. It makes your breath hitch, hips jerking forward. The wetness of your precum smears on Satoru's cheek a bit but he doesn't even mind. Nor does he seem to notice.

"These cocks are the only ones that make me this hungry."

Suguru glances at the alleyway. You're not loud enough to draw attention. Still, better safe than sorry.

"Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure." You throw your head back to laugh. A veil was meant to conceal, protect those outside of it, and maintain secrecy. To use it so improperly.

The three of you were truly perverted.

"What's got you all giggly?" Suguru speaks against your lips. Tilting your chin upwards then squeezing the sides of your neck just to relish in the way you bare your neck to him.

"You used a veil," Satoru speaks for you. He raises, ignoring Suguru's pointed glance in favour of unbuttoning your shirt and kissing down your chest. His lips are sticky, smears of pink tainting you but you find it hard to care. "He's laughing because he thinks we're perverts."

"What are you? A mind reader now, Satoru?" You huff.

"I might as well be, huh?" Satoru smirks. He's so handsome that it makes your chest hurt sometimes. You're against the wall, exits blocked by Suguru and Satoru and you wouldn't have it any other way. "You know, I missed you too. It's been weeks — "

"Three days," Suguru and you corrected.

"Weeks. And this morning wasn't enough. We did such a good job, those wrinkle bags can't complain if we just so happened to work overtime, right?"

Ijichi can't stop his cheek from heating up. It's painfully, painfully, obvious why the three of you took your time for this mission. He had waited in the car for the first hour, then occupied himself with some coffee at a nearby cafe but by the third hour, Ijichi almost called Principal Yaga.

Three Special Grade Sorcerers took that long to exorcise an abandoned building. Surely, something must have happened!

Yet, seeing you sleeping on Suguru's lap with your legs across Satoru's lap confirms the real reason why it took the three of you that long.

Satoru has a weighted eye mask, head tossed back as he recuperates. This gives Ijichi a clear sight of his marked-up neck. Your shirt is wrinkled, hitched up from the bend of your waist, and giving him the whispers of handmarks. Suguru met his gaze from the rearview and Ijichi whispered out an apology.

"No, please. We're sorry for keeping you waiting." Suguru is brushing your bangs back, gently wiping down some residual stickiness on your cheeks with wet wipes (that Ijichi had made a point to stock up on in the car after earlier missions involving you three).

"No, I understand," he says with a shaky voice. Sighing a little he laughed awkwardly from the driver's seat.

"You must've been missing them a lot for those three days they've been gone, Mr Geto."

Suguru's expression softens, leaning one shoulder down when Satoru leans to place his head on his shoulders.

"It's hard not to. I love them."

[skzstoryvault]

Different

Starring: Hyunjin Summary: You’ve been Hyunjin’s inseparable best friend since you were kids. You’re used to him changing his appearance a lot, as an idol. But the buzzcut… it hits different. You’re different too - and that’s why Hyunjin chose you from the first moment, all those years ago. Your families need a bit more time to come around to the reality of you two, but they do. Warnings: old timey thinking, narrow views on gender roles (not you or Hyunjin), mentions of bullying Tags: female reader, childhood best friends to lovers, sweet and awkward moments, Hyunjin gets into a kerfuffle and wins. Divider from: emojicombos.com/divider

Rating: 16+

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ He rings the doorbell with a kind of tension in his body you can feel even before the door opens. Not nerves exactly—Hyunjin has long learned how to live inside the eye of a storm—but something more intimate. A very specific anxiety. A question only you can answer.

And when you do open the door, you nearly forget how to breathe.

Because there he is.

Buzzcut. Bleached nearly white. Head slightly bowed like a penitent, or a martyr, or—knowing Hyunjin—a runway model posing as one. His hoodie is pushed back, like he wants you to see it, wants you to see him, but he’s chewing on the inside of his cheek, eyes flicking across your face, waiting to gauge your reaction before he lets himself have one.

The light hits the short fuzz on his scalp just right. It glows. He looks like a statue carved from ivory and sin.

You blink, once. You try to say hi, but it gets trapped behind your teeth.

Hyunjin takes one step in. Then two. He's in your space now, warm and brimming with crackling energy. You still haven’t said anything.

“Be so fucking for real right now,” he mutters, teasing—but there's a catch in his voice. “It can’t be that bad. Say something, baby.”

Baby.

You know he calls you that sometimes to be funny, sometimes to be close. But right now? You feel it in your blood.

You inhale sharply.

“Hyune,” you murmur. And it shakes. Your voice. Your bones.

His eyebrows raise a little in anticipation. Hope. Panic.

“You look—” You have to look away for a beat. Try again. “You look like someone sculpted you out of marble and then made you dangerous. Like a fallen archangel who tried to repent but accidentally seduced everyone in Heaven on his way out.”

He blinks. Then stares. Then: “So… not ugly?”

You laugh, incredulous. “Ugly? You look like a walking sin. A universal threat. An entire thesis on ‘jawlines’ and ‘neck porn.’ And—God—your ears. Hyune. I can see your ears all the time now.”

He breaks. Collapses forward into your arms, laughing and almost-weeping at the same time.

“Thank fuck,” he mumbles into your shoulder. “I was going to cry if you hated it. I already had a whole emo playlist lined up. Sufjan Stevens was about to get a streaming boost.”

You hold him tightly, stunned by how much man he feels like in your arms now. Solid. Broad. Strong. Changed. Familiar. His scent is the same, that mix of chamomile and something soft and creamy—his skin, his warmth, him.

“You’ve always been beautiful,” you murmur into his neck. “But this… this is something else. You’ve never looked more like you.”

His breath catches. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

And then—because you can’t help yourself—you pull back just enough to touch the fuzz on his head.

It’s like velvet under your fingertips. He shivers.

“Kiwi fruit,” he whispers, breathless. “Stay called me Kiwi Head. It made me feel all sorts of giddy. But I still hoped you’d like it too.”

You grin. “Delicious, fuzzy Kiwi Head.”

He pauses. Looks at you with something molten and terribly clear in his eyes.

And for the first time, it becomes impossible to lie to yourself.

You’re not just in love with him.

You always have been.

Hyunjin remembers the first time he saw you.

It wasn’t cinematic. Not at first. You were twelve, maybe thirteen, planted awkwardly in the hallway of a Korean middle school like a misplaced statue. All angles. All foreignness. Hair like spilled moonlight, lashes so pale they seemed drawn in with chalk.

Everyone stared at you like they were staring at a car crash. You looked like something out of a fairytale and also like something they didn’t know how to like. Too tall. Too strange. Too other.

But to Hyunjin?

You looked like art.

The kind of art that makes people uncomfortable because it confronts them with what they don’t understand. You were that uncanny edge of beauty—too sharp, too pure, too far out of reach.

A creature carved out of frost and freckles, set loose in the middle of downtown Seoul. 

And while the others whispered, while they made jokes or flinched from you like you were radioactive, he couldn’t look away.

You fascinated him. Still do.

He’s always been drawn to the things people mishandle. Misjudge. Malign. Because he knows that feeling. Knows what it’s like to be beloved by the world and still feel like a paper lantern in a storm. Knows what it is to be looked at constantly and never seen. Knows how conditional and how fickle the worship is. 

But you—you never cared to be looked at. You wanted to understand things. How they worked. How they connected. How to take the world apart and rebuild it better.

He remembers the day he followed you into the library after a particularly cruel homeroom incident. One of the boys had muttered something about you being an “albino freak” under his breath. You hadn’t flinched. Just opened your calculus book and ignored the rest of the room.

That wrecked him.

So he found you, sat beside you, and said nothing. Just... existed with you. Long limbs tangled under the study desk. His presence loud in its silence. Your freckled fingers flying across your tablet screen, sketching a flowchart for some code architecture he couldn’t even begin to understand.

You turned to him then, pale lashes fanning down as you blinked slowly.

“You’re not like the others,” you said.

Neither of you ever said what that meant.

But it anchored itself in him like a lighthouse.

Years later, when he’s posing in Milan with Donatella’s hands slipping where they shouldn’t, when fans argue over whether he’s even allowed to love—when the world takes and takes and leaves him hollow—he finds you.

Always you.

He loves you not in spite of your strangeness, but because of it.

Because your beauty is loud and cold and ungovernable. Because your silence is thoughtful, not timid. Because you’re a creature of the mind before all else, and still, somehow, the only person who can hold his heart with gentle, freckled fingers and make him feel safe inside it.

To the world, you’re an oddity.

To Hyunjin, you’re a galaxy the others are too dull to perceive.

And from the first moment he saw you, he chose you.

Again and again. Always.

Your families need almost a lifetime to finally accept your immutable bond. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

His mother was raised in a world that quietly taught women to be soft, careful, and ornamental. She’s not unkind, but she’s steeped in the rituals of approval and performance. So when she first met you—tall, otherworldly, with a face like a winter’s day and a voice like cool, running water—she was stunned. Not because you were too much, but because you made her feel invisible. You walked into her home with no makeup, hair, wearing expensive clothes like they were afterthoughts. You sat beside Hyunjin and leaned toward him like you’d done it since birth.

And he looked at you like you held the coordinates to his soul.

She didn’t know what to do with that. You weren’t the homemaker she was taught a good man needs. You didn’t serve tea. You didn’t flatter. You didn’t shrink. And worst of all, you didn’t even seem nervous.

At first, she asked Hyunjin quiet, measured questions.

“Does she know how to cook Korean food?” “She doesn’t speak it very fluently yet—do you think she’ll study more?” “Is she serious about you, or just enjoying Korea for now?”

But Hyunjin heard the undertones. And one night, with his voice low and gentle but utterly unmovable, he said:

“Eomma… if you’re hoping I’ll one day bring home someone softer, someone more Korean, someone more like you were raised to be—please let that hope go. I want someone strong. Someone who’ll challenge me. Who'll help me grow. You don’t have to love her right away. But you do have to respect her. Because I won’t let her feel like she’s auditioning for this family.”

And to her credit, his mother listened. She watched. She saw how you handled her son’s vulnerability like holy silk. How you remembered the smallest things he liked, how you teased him in just the right key, how your presence steadied him like an anchor when the world pulled too hard.

Now she still doesn’t always understand you. But she sees that Hyunjin is flourishing. And somewhere in the quiet corners of her heart, she thinks: Maybe this foreign girl isn’t a wife in the way I was trained to be one. Maybe she’s something more.

His father, on the other hand, is a blunt man. A man of edges, whose love is real but mostly communicated through silent sacrifices. He looked at you once, the first time Hyunjin brought you home, and said:

“You’re very tall.”

Deadpan. And Hyunjin laughed until he cried. Later, his father added:

“People will always stare at you two. Are you strong enough for that?” And you said, simply, “They already do. I’ve survived worse.”

He grunted. Then he passed you the bowl of radish kimchi and said, “Eat more.”

And that was that. He wouldn’t say it, but he sees you. Maybe not fully. But he knows you're not temporary. He sees how Hyunjin looks at you like you're the axis of his world. And slowly, that fierce fatherly protectiveness shifted—not to guard against you, but over you.

They’re not a picture-perfect family. They fumble, sometimes. His mom still worries. His dad still occasionally says something accidentally alienating. But Hyunjin always defends you. Not angrily. Not like he’s arguing. Like it’s fact. Like choosing you is as natural as breathing.

“Appa, she’s not like other girls because I’m not like other boys.” “Eomma, you don’t have to get her. You just have to get that I’m better because of her.”

And somewhere, maybe in their own quiet way, they’ve started to fall in love with you too. Maybe not all at once. But the kind of love that grows because you show up, over and over, not as who they wanted—but as exactly who Hyunjin needs.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

The evening air is soft but brisk as you step into Hyunjin’s family home again. It’s quieter than last time — fewer elaborate displays of ceremony, more worn-in comfort. The scent of simmering doenjang stew lingers gently in the air.

His mother greets you first, her eyes no longer flickering with unease but something like curiosity — a tentative invitation.

“Come in, come in,” she says, her voice warmer than before. “I tried making the japchae the way you made it the last time.”

You smile, surprised but touched. The fact she remembered means more than she knows.

Hyunjin is in the kitchen, pulling out a tray of meticulously arranged banchan. He catches your eye, his smile that mix of shy and certain you know so well.

Dinner is slow, with the gentle clatter of chopsticks and quiet conversation. His father, initially reserved, offers you the radish kimchi again — this time with a softer look in his eyes.

After a few bites, his mother clears her throat.

“I’ve been practicing saying your name,” she says carefully. “Can you say it slowly for me? I want to get it right.”

You repeat your name, and she tries, stumbling over syllables, but smiling wider each time.

“That’s… very beautiful,” she says. “It suits you.”

Hyunjin watches, quietly proud, and you reach out to squeeze his hand under the table.

Later, as his mother goes to fetch dessert, she turns back with a small notebook.

“I want to try making your apricot salad,” she says, handing it to you. “Write down the recipe?”

The gesture feels like a peace offering, a bridge spanning cultures and expectations.

Hyunjin leans close, whispering, “See? They’re warming up.”

You laugh softly, heart full. Because here — in this imperfect family, between foreign and familiar, old traditions and new beginnings — you’re not an outsider.

You’re home.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

Later that evening, after the meal, you find yourself alone in the kitchen with Hyunjin’s mother. The warmth of the room softens her usual sharp gaze.

“Hyunjin is my son,” she says slowly, as if weighing her words. “When I look at you… I see someone who has brought him joy. That is enough for me.”

She pauses, glancing toward the living room where Hyunjin laughs softly with his father.

“But I worry. You are not Korean, not the kind of woman I imagined for him. He is… special. He dances and performs, and I was trained to respect that as art, but I fear for how the world will treat him — and you.”

You nod, feeling the tension behind her words.

“I don’t expect you to be a traditional wife. Hyunjin doesn’t need that. What he needs is someone who sees him — not as an idol, not as a beautiful boy, but as the man he is becoming.”

Her eyes glisten, a fragile admission.

“You have his heart. That is a powerful thing.”

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

Meanwhile, back in your own home, your mother circles the idea of Hyunjin like a hawk.

“He’s a lucky boy. Extremely genetically blessed,” she remarks one afternoon, eyes narrowed. “But don’t think for a second he’ll give you the life you deserve. Dancing and singing are frivolous. And he’s probably g- you know what, just don’t daydream too deep about this one, alright? I think you’re in for a very lasting friendship — at best.”

Her words cut, but you stand firm.

“I love him for who he is — not what he looks like or what he does.”

She snorts.

“Don’t gloat so much. You do know this means no grandchildren too, don’t you?” You say, walking away from the retaliation.

Your father’s attitude is more cold and cutting.

“Hyunjin? A pretty boy who plays dress-up for the world? No son of mine will come into this house with painted nails and runway poses.”

He pauses, eyes flashing.

“You should find yourself a man who can fix a car, tell a good joke, and stand up for himself. Not some fashion doll.”

When these harsh opinions reach Hyunjin’s ears, he doesn’t lash out. Instead, he comes to you, quieter than usual, needing your strength.

“They don’t see me,” he confesses, voice low. “They see a role, a stereotype. So what if I can’t fix a car? I can pay someone else to do it for me.”

You take his hands, steady and sure.

“They will learn. Because we know who you really are. And I will fight for you — not just for me, but for all the parts of you they try to erase.”

He exhales, a mix of relief and determination.

“With you, I am whole. I don’t need their approval.”

In these moments of fragile acceptance and firm love, the two families orbit around you and Hyunjin — imperfect, complicated, but slowly bending toward understanding. You become not just a link between two worlds, but a force quietly shaping the future Hyunjin deserves.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

Sometimes you find your mind drifting… and often, it goes back to the moment everything changed for you and Hyunjin. You were so, so young. Both of you. And he was already so fierce. 

It was a rainy afternoon, the kind that turns streets to slick mirrors and muffles the usual noise of the city. You’d stayed home from school that day, feeling worn down by the weight of whispered insults and sideways glances. Your parents had tried to be understanding but their patience was thin, worn by years of battles they thought you could have avoided. But on that day, four of the boys who usually ran their mouths at you when you were there tried to co-opt Hyunjin into bullying you too. Thinking that the popular local boy would want to dunk on the foreign student who made everyone uncomfortable and like they should maybe do more.

Then Hyunjin appeared at your door—bruised, bloodied, and raw with the aftermath of the fight.

His usually flawless skin was marred by a swollen lip split open, a purple bruise blossoming over his eyebrow, and dark smudges spreading across his arms and neck. His clothes were torn, and the soft shine of his usual calm was replaced by a stormy intensity.

You screamed. Not out of fear, but because your heart clenched seeing him like this.

“You did WHAT?!,” you managed between tears, as you pulled him inside, pressing him close in a careful hug. “Four guys? You’re nuts! You’ll get suspended. I’m not worth all that.” 

From the living room, the heavy footsteps of your father grew louder, his face peeking around the corner.

He adjusted his glasses, eyes narrowing for a moment before a slow, grudging smile cracked his stern expression.

“Congratulations, boy! Nice to see your nuts finally dropped.”

Hyunjin’s gasp was audible—a mixture of shock and something tenderly vulnerable. Before anyone could say another word, he fled to your room, the door clicking shut behind him.

You followed quickly, your arms wrapping around his trembling frame. You did not make any excuses for your cruel father. 

In the quiet sanctuary of your shared space, the tears spilled freely—his sobs mingling with yours, two souls who had found fierce, unspoken refuge in each other.

Your father’s grudging approval wasn’t just about the fight—it was about witnessing the fierce loyalty Hyunjin had for you, the boy who had never once hesitated to defend the one person who mattered most to him, even at the cost of his own safety.

That moment became a silent promise between all of you — a rare bridge across the gap of cultures, expectations, and the harsh world outside.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

After that fight, everything between you and Hyunjin felt different — stronger, more real. The boy who’d always been your closest friend, your constant through every hardship, showed you a fierce protectiveness that went beyond words.

He wasn’t just your quiet companion anymore; he was your shield. And you were his in turn. 

In the days that followed, you caught him nursing his bruises in secret, but never once did he complain or regret getting into the fight. Instead, there was a new fire in his eyes when he looked at you — a raw vulnerability mixed with an unshakeable determination to keep you safe.

You, in turn, became his anchor. You held him when the pain hit hardest, wiped away the doubt when the world questioned him, and quietly assured him that being fierce for someone you love was the truest kind of strength.

This was the moment you realized your bond wasn’t just childhood friendship — it was a deep, unspoken pact of loyalty and love, one that could weather anything.

Your father, pragmatic and blunt, surprised everyone — most of all himself.

That fight cracked the carefully guarded walls around his heart. Seeing Hyunjin stand up for you so fiercely, even at the cost of getting beaten, showed your father a kind of courage and devotion he respected deeply — qualities he valued more than any traditional measure of success or masculinity.

Though he still had his gruff ways, your father began to treat Hyunjin with a new, subtle respect.

He stopped dismissing Hyunjin as a frivolous entertainer and began to include him in family conversations.

Sometimes, over late dinners or quiet moments, he’d ask about Hyunjin’s future plans, no longer with disdain but with a grudging curiosity.

And while he never quite shed his old-school toughness, he silently acknowledged that Hyunjin was here to stay — not just as a guest in your life, but as family.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

The evening air felt heavy with unspoken tension as Hyunjin stepped into your family’s living room. The same space where countless childhood memories had been made now seemed a stage for a new kind of performance — one where the audience was your parents, their expressions carefully neutral but eyes flickering with quiet bewilderment.

Your mother sat poised in her favorite armchair, her lips pressed into a thin line. She wore the same cool appraisal she always did, but tonight, her gaze lingered longer on Hyunjin than usual — as if trying to decode a riddle she wasn’t sure she wanted to solve.

“You’ve certainly changed,” she said, voice smooth but edged with something like disbelief. “From the delicate boy we first met to a grown man. And yet, here you are, still by my daughter’s side.”

Hyunjin offered a polite, measured smile, conscious of the sharpness beneath her words. “Some things don’t change,” he replied softly.

Your father sat across, arms crossed, his eyes narrowing in a way that suggested both scrutiny and curiosity. He didn’t offer a greeting right away. Instead, he studied Hyunjin, measuring the man who had been your constant for so many years — the same boy who once showed up with bruises and split lips defending you.

“So,” your father finally said, voice low and a bit rough, “what keeps you around? This world of glitz and chaos — why stay tethered to someone so... different?”

Hyunjin met his gaze without flinching. “Because some people are worth standing by. Because she’s worth standing by.”

Your parents exchanged a glance, the unspoken question hanging heavily between them: How had you two managed to stay so close through the whirlwind of growing up, change, and the impossible expectations both families had placed on you?

Your mother’s eyes softened momentarily, then sharpened again with her usual practiced detachment. “You’re not what we expected. Neither of you are. And yet, you’re here.”

Hyunjin nodded slowly, understanding more than he said: their perplexity wasn’t just about him or you — it was about a bond so deep and rare it defied their frameworks. A love that didn’t fit neatly into their worlds, but which had clearly shaped both your lives.

The night wore on with careful civility, the kind that masked deeper currents. And as Hyunjin glanced at you across the room, he knew — whatever questions lingered in the eyes of your parents, your bond was unshakable. It had weathered storms no outsider could see.

Later that night, in your room, your bodies reminded you that everything was a lit fuse, and what the adults were piling on you was just accelerant. The small nightlight cast a soft glow across your shared bedroom. Hyunjin lay beside you, his thin frame curled up like a fragile bird, the fabric of his shirt riding up slightly, revealing a sliver of his pale belly.

You stole a glance, heart hammering in a way you couldn’t explain. His skin looked impossibly smooth, unmarked by the shadows that were starting to form on your own body. You forced your eyes away, cheeks burning.

“Hey,” Hyunjin’s voice was soft, breaking the silence. “Can I ask you something?”

You looked at him, surprised by the seriousness in his tone.

“Do you… think it’s normal?” He hesitated, fingers twisting the edge of your blanket. “The way my voice is changing? And sometimes I get these weird feelings — like my chest feels tight, and sometimes I feel angry for no reason.”

You swallowed hard, suddenly aware that you knew exactly what he meant. “Yeah,” you said gently, “it’s normal. I think it’s just… puberty.”

“But what if it’s not? What if it’s something wrong with me? Should I tell someone? Should I… google something?” His eyes searched yours, vulnerable and uncertain.

You reached over and squeezed his hand. “My parents never talk about this stuff either. But I think it’s okay to be scared. We’re both figuring it out. We just have to stick together.”

He nodded, a small sigh escaping him. “Sometimes I wish I could just stay the same. I’m so tired of how much it takes to be this perfect, androgynous little kid.”

You smiled softly, the familiar ache in your chest mingling with warmth. “I get that. I hate how my body’s changing too. People start looking at me differently, whispering when I walk by. Like I’m some kind of curse.”

Hyunjin’s hand slid from yours to rest lightly on your arm, grounding you. “But here,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, “next to you, I feel safe. Even when my voice cracks mid-word and I’m embarrassed.”

Your gaze flicked down to that sliver of skin again, your pulse quickening. “Me too,” you admitted, cheeks flaming. “It’s like… my brain wants to panic, but my heart just wants to protect you.”

He let out a breathy laugh. “We’re fucked up,” he said with a crooked grin.

“We’re perfect,” you corrected, squeezing his hand again.

And in that quiet, shared space — with all the confusion and growing pains swirling around you — you found a deep, unspoken promise: you would be each other’s safe harbor, no matter how much the world tried to change or break you.

The days grew longer, bodies changed, and so did the whispers. You noticed the way teachers glanced at Hyunjin with forced smiles, as if trying to pin a label on him he didn’t want. And how classmates stared at you, their eyes sharp and suspicious, as if your foreignness was a crime.

One afternoon, you found Hyunjin sitting alone on a bench behind the school gym, fingers tapping nervously on his knees. His usually vibrant eyes were dimmer, weighed down by something heavy.

You sat beside him quietly, letting him gather his thoughts.

“They’re saying things again,” he muttered, voice tight. “That I’m too weird for this world. That I’m not ‘manly’ enough for them.”

You wrapped an arm around his thin shoulders, pulling him close. “Let them say whatever. They don’t know you. They don’t see the real you.”

He sighed, resting his head against your temple. “But it gets to me. Sometimes I feel like I’m nothing but a pretty mask people use to sell things.”

You shook your head firmly. “You’re so much more than that. You’re the guy who fights for me when I get called a monster. The guy who makes me laugh when I want to cry.”

Hyunjin smiled faintly. “And you’re the only one who sees me without the costume. Without the lights and cameras. Without pretending.”

That night, when you fell asleep tangled together, your bodies awkward but warm, you felt the weight of hormones and fear and loneliness press close—but also the fierce shield you formed for each other.

You thought of that time when Hyunjin spent a week making a paper art project for class… and then it started pouring as soon as he got out of class. By the time you walked up to him to walk him home, he was holding what looked like a crime scene of cellulose and colour. He stood there, blinking up at the sky like it had personally betrayed him. People passed by, muttering apologies, but no one stopped. No one cared.

Except you.

You grabbed his wrist, tugged him under the scaffolding of a closed food stall, your school bag held over both your heads like a crooked umbrella. And when he looked at you — rain dripping off his lashes, rage and heartbreak carved across his face — you grinned and said:

“Well, now it’s performance art. Tragedy. Very French.”

And he laughed. Wet, miserable, snorting — but laughed anyway. Because if you could find something worth smiling about in this mess, then maybe it wasn’t a total disaster.

You stayed there until the rain stopped, sharing one earbud each, playing soft, sad music and pretending the whole world didn’t exist.

There was a time, in early high school, when a classmate called you a "discount Elsa" — too tall, too pale, too “unnatural.” You’d laughed it off in public. But you didn’t show up for lunch the next day.

Hyunjin didn’t ask. He didn’t make you talk.

He broke into the AV room after school and made you binge-watch three full episodes of Strong Woman Do Bong Soon with him, legs tangled, snacks stolen from the vending machine.

At some point, your head dropped onto his shoulder.

“You’re not too anything,” he said softly.

“Not even too weird?”

He shrugged. “I like weird. I’m weird too. Together, we cancel it out.”

And you believed him.

Then, the debut week came about. And with it, the miserable 4 a.m. call.

His voice was a whisper. “Are you awake?”

You were. You always were, when it came to him.

“Yeah. What’s wrong?”

Hyunjin didn’t answer right away. You heard him breathing. Then, “They said I looked bloated in the teaser photos. That my cheeks ruined the vibe. That I should skip meals for the week.”

Silence.

Then you: “Okay. Let’s ruin the vibe together.”

He laughed, barely — a breath over the line. “You’d skip meals with me?”

“No, pabo. I’m ordering us both dumplings right now so I can show you what bloated really looks like.”

“… I love you.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. He knew.

When he finally made it through a year without a single scandal, without a single self-doubt spiral, you didn’t throw a party. You didn’t post anything.

You just brought home his favorite candle, lit it, and pulled him into bed with you.

You lay there, quiet, heartbeats syncing in the dark.

“You’re proud of me,” he whispered.

“Always.”

He kissed your wrist then, slow and reverent, like he was thanking something bigger than himself.

“You’re my life’s luck,” he said.

Then your stomach ruined the moment by letting you know it was empty right then. Hyunjin threw his head back and laughed with his whole body. Now that, you thought, was ineffable beauty. You burrowed into the soft bedding, wanting to anchor yourself in this moment forever. °°°end°°°

[msfantasy-anime]

Shut Up

Kaido x Reader

Summary: Kaido and Y/n breakup.

A/n: Heavily based on the song Shut Up by Black Eye Peas

“Girl, our love is dyin' Why did you stop tryin'?” Kaido sobs and slurs drunkenly making you sigh in resignation. This conversation feels like it’s on repeat.

Sometime ago you met Kaido and fell deeply in love with him. He was strong, kind and exhilarating. His love was intoxicating and so was the picturesque image he built up in your head on being the perfect family. Just the three of you, together.

Ever since you met Yamato, the cracks slowly started to form in the image in which you use to behold Kaido. You started to slowly see the reality on who your partner really was.

He wasn’t strong, he was imposing and authoritative.

He wasn’t kind, he was controlling and manipulative.

He wasn’t exhilarating, he was erratic and unpredictable.

He wasn’t a loving dedicated father, he was controlling and abusive.

But in your desperation to save the future you desperately wanted, you tried your hardest to hold onto the honeymoon period with Kaido and raise Yamato with the love she deserved. You spent countless hours counselling Kaido on how to be a better father and a better partner.

And as the saying goes, you can’t help those who won’t help themselves.

You’d both get caught in screaming matches over anything and everything or at least, that’s how it feels.

It wasn’t until the annexing of Wano, had you finally come to terms with the reality.

He continues to be an elusive partner.

He continues to be an absent father.

In addition, he’s now a cruel leader over what use to be a happy nation.

You soon realised that the situation wasn’t going to improve. All of the root issues in your relationship stems from Kaido not shaping up to be the better version you’re trying to push him to be. He won’t change, and you can’t make him change.

Truth be told, he was never the person you thought he was.

“I never been a quitter, But I do deserve better.” You answer, slugging your full backpack over your should attempting to walk off only for Kaido to snatch the bag, holding you in place.

“Believe me I will do better. Let's forget the past and start this new plan.” Kaido begins to sputter and all empty promises, just like he always does.

“Why? 'Cause it's the same old routine and then next week we just scream about the same thing.” You retort with frustration.

“I know you're tired of the things I say-“

“You're damn right 'Cause I heard them lame damn empty promises just yesterday.” You scream.

“That was a different thing.” Kaido defends.

“No, it ain't.”

“That was a different thing” Kaido pleads desperately, seeing your unwavering stance.

“No, it ain't”.

“That was a different thing!” Kaido asserts angrily which blows your fuse at his naivety.

“It was the same damn thing, same ass excuse! This conversation is useless!” You turn for the final time, you back facing the man you believed held your world. Now a crumbling, weepy mess.

Without uttering another word, you leave, quickly dashing out through the door.

“You’ll be back!” He exclaims, more as a delusional claim to comfort himself, rather than the ugly truth.

You see Yamato at the bottom of the stairs, pools of tears running down her face. “Please don’t leave.”

Your heart tugs painfully.

You did consider staying for no one else but Yamato, but there is really no helping it. For your own sake and your own sanity, you must leave.

“I’m sorry sweetie, I have to go. But!” You say, pressing a torn piece of paper into Yamatos palm. “Take this, you’ll know what to do when you are older. You’ll always have a home with me okay?” You whisper, holding Yamato tightly one last time. “I’m sorry.”

Yamato nods bravely. “Safe travels Y/n, I’ll see you soon.”

[adelheidvonschicksal]

ᴄʜᴇʀʀʏ

Summary: You make for a good distraction when things get tough. Sukuna's fingers may be bitter, but your kisses are sweet.

Pairing: Itadori x GN!Reader

Tags: fluff, light angst, hurt and comfort, developing relationships, sfw

-----

The fingers of Sukuna are an ugly sight; burnt burgundy and twistedly decrepit, crowned with a pointed black nail that scratches at Itadori’s throat whenever he swallows one. The taste is even worse, akin to someone soaking an old cigar in cloudy mop water before clumsily preserving it in candle wax.

It takes all his strength to not pucker his face and dig his nails into the column of his neck whenever the soapy wax flavor hits his tongue. Every fiber of his body would react to reject the intrusion. The lingering aftertaste was another issue. He couldn’t erase it by scraping his tongue against his teeth; burying it with sweet or spicy foods after a mission only helped so much, leaving him to wait until it disappeared on its own as the hours past. He thought it would get easier every time; and for a while, it did.

Until it didn't.

He wanted to stop. But he couldn't stop, not after all this, not until he eats them all, not until he makes everyone's suffering mean something.

So, when he’s about to eat another finger after a grueling, emotionally draining late-evening mission, he braces himself.

As always, the flavor is waxxy, almost non-existent, then putrid when he accidentally bites down. His body knee jerks to react, gag reflex hiccuping and stomach bile rising to reject it, to tell him to spit it out. He closes his eyes tight and squeezes at his throat to loosen the straining muscles, begging his body to hurry up and accept it so it would end faster. Sukuna and everything that comes with eating these cursed objects. It doesn’t want to give in this time, and he squats as if it could help and also because he's so tired of this.

Suddenly, there’s a subtle sweetness, like fruit on the tongue, cutting through the taint. It’s an easy succor to chase and mold to while a comforting force travels up his neck and over his hands, gently forcing them to drop so it can replace them. This touch eventually settles under his bottom eyelids, smooth crescents drawing right along his cheekbones.

This taste is not exactly as strong as the sugar and spice that he normally uses to cover up the filthy flavor in his mouth but there’s something relaxing about the warmth that accompanies it and settles against his lips. Prayers answered, his clenching throat relaxes, allowing him to swallow, and his body quickly adapts to the new addition. 

When the sensation stops, Itadori can finally open his eyes.

It’s you.

You’re here, kneeling in front of him and glowing against the dark backdrop of the night that you’re a little blinding to his lagging mind. 

How could he forget that you came here with him?

There’s a soft silence flowing between you, and he only now notices that you’re holding his face. However, he doesn’t feel the need to make you let go as heat creeps up his skin and his heart begins to echo in his chest, temporarily numbing his mind from the sour aftereffects of eating Sukuna’s fingers.

“Better?” you ask with a small tilt of your head.

Itadori is caught off-guard by the question, feeling a bit dazed and more than a little confused.

“It’s…better,” he eventually mumbles so quietly that his voice gets buried under the breeze. “Thanks.”

His eyes drift lower on your face, finding your lips. He fights the blush threatening to overtake him as he takes in the reddish shine on your lips and pieces together what happened.

“Strawberry?” he hoarsely asks, half-jokingly and half because he feels as if he needs to say something, or else it would be awkward, wouldn’t it?

“Cherry, actually,” you correct with a tiny smile.

“Oh,” he exclaims, his cheeks still a pretty pink as he wonders if the kiss was something you wanted to do. He wonders why it made him feel so much better. He wonders if that would be something you do next time or if this was simply a one-off action thought of in the heat of the moment. He also wonders, for a moment, if he deserved it.

“Could you…” he begins then hesitates.

Is he even allowed to ask such a thing?

“Do that again?” He requests and shamefully palms at his chest for daring to ask for something so personal. “It’s uhm, the aftertaste.”

It’s partially the truth and partially because he wants to figure out why.

Nodding, you give in more readily than he expects and lean in to kiss him again. This time he dares to press the tip of his tongue against your lips, too nervous and confused to breach between them.

You’re right. It’s sweet, slightly tart, blatantly artificial, but so much better than anything else he can imagine right now. Yet he doesn't think it's the gloss causing his body to ease, if only a little.

When you pull away, he finds his mind finally catching up and blushes at the fact your lips are still so close to his. Exhaling slowly, he tries to ignore the dull ache still bubbling in his chest in exchange for thinking about the taste you left behind, the one that makes soft emotions emerge from his heart like a butterfly from its cocoon when he looks at you.

“Yeah…" he reinforces dreamily, letting the wind once again carry away his words, "It’s cherry.”

[thanksbutno98]

The Day After

John Price x fem!reader OC

Authors note: sorry this is so short. I started my new job this week and the hours are a lot longer so I’m adjusting and trying to find time to write.

Summary: John Price, the loving devoted husband he is forgets Valentine’s Day.

Warning: sexual themes, swearing, not edited.

——————

“Okay, I’ve got flowers, chocolates, and her favorite takeaway.” John spoke to himself nervously as he pulled up the driveway to your family home. Reaching into the back seat he pulled out a small gift bag decorated in pink and red hearts with white tissue paper peaking out.

With the bags in hand John put on his most charming smile, got out of his truck, and walked through the back door to see his four year old daughter sitting at the kitchen table. Evelyn was coloring in a large heart with the words ‘happy valentine’s day’ at the top of the sheet. It was computer paper meaning you had gone out of your way to print it off for her to color. That was most definitely a dig.

John had forgotten what yesterday was and was confused why you were giving him the cold shoulder. It didn’t occur to John that it was Valentine’s Day, to him it was just a normal Tuesday. He didn’t have to be on base that day so he saw it as his chance to lounge around in his boxers and watch tv, which is what he did until he left to pick his children up from school.

When John picked Evelyn and Jj up he had a glass shattering moment. At pick up he saw his daughter dressed in pink sparkly leggings, a red sweater, and a head band that had antennas with two sparkly hearts and then his own heart dropped. Jj went on and on about the candy he’d gotten and how his teacher wore a headband like Evelyn’s but John could barely listen as he loaded his kids into the car. Checking his phone quickly to see the date, February 14th John felt his stomach drop.

John’s mind went straight to damage control and how he could convince you he didn’t forget Valentine’s Day. Then he thought back to laying on the couch in a crew neck and boxers, when you asked him if he had any plans today. John had said ‘no’ then asked if you’d make him breakfast.

It was too late for him to convince you he didn’t forget and he came to terms with that on the drive home. You’d been ignoring him all day and he was a bit surprised you had taken the day off and let him sleep in. When you gave him breakfast John noticed it was burnt to hell and how you curtly said ‘yep’ when he thanked you. John didn’t want to say anything because you seemed to be having an off day and like the good husband he saw himself as he didn’t want to add to it. Now John knew he was the reason your mood was so sour.

Stopping on the way home John grabbed the last bouquet of flowers at the local shop, they were black roses and wilting and quite ugly. The irony of them being black wasn’t lost on John and he was okay that these might be a symbol of his soon approaching demise. Your favorite candies were out of stock, the crisps you liked no where to be found, even the icecream was barren the flavors left being your least favorite. That’s when John realized he was totally screwed. His lack of planning was biting him in the ass and he deserved the wrath you were going to give him later that night.

Evelyn and Jj were no help. The two of them bending John’s ear and asking how he could forget. They went on to say you made them heart shaped pancakes for breakfast with strawberry milk and asking if he didn’t get any. John thought back to the burnt toast, scorched eggs, and cold tea. Even his favorite section of the newspaper was absent from the pages and you most definitely took it out to spite him.

Evelyn told John how you put a pretty heart shaped card in her lunch box and Jj said he had gotten one too. Jj snarkily told his father that clearly he didn’t deserve heart shaped pancakes or a card because he hurt your feelings. It was a blaring reminder that his children adored you and they didn’t hide how applauded they were at John for snubbing you.

When the three of them got home Evelyn flew through the house to find you upstairs. Jj just kept shaking his head at John and reminding him how ugly the flowers were. John couldn’t do right by anyone.

John approached you in your bedroom with the god awful flowers and you scoffed at him. Taking them and tossing them in the trash in the bathroom. John tried to apologize but you told him you wanted space so John went and sulked on the couch until dinner. Dinner was silent and you batted John away two more times, telling him to leave you be.

By the end of the night your two children who had been glued to you had fallen asleep in your bed after watching a movie; leaving John to sleep on the couch. John had continuously apologized especially after you had given him his present. You tossed it in his lap as he sat on the couch and then went upstairs without a word to watch that movie with Evelyn and Jj. You’d wrapped up a risqué set of lingerie and fluffy set of red handcuffs, with a note that said

‘You’re in charge tonight, Captain.’

John felt even more like a prick because he’d been dropping hints that you two should do something to spice up the bedroom. You two had flirted about bringing handcuffs in for a try and you’d give him a lap dance. John should have suspected you’d surprise him with this on Valentine’s Day if he’d actually remembered the date.

Thats how John found himself with bags of your favorite things and two dozen roses as he stood in the back doorway of your home. Now it was February 15th and with a sore back from sleeping on the couch John was ready to grovel for your forgiveness.

“Those ones are a lot prettier.” Evelyn chimed from the kitchen table, putting her crayon down. She quickly looked away as John cut his eyes at her.

You were standing at the kitchen island putting away the leftovers from dinner. John had texted you not to eat with the kids so you didn’t. Kicking his shoes off John placed the takeaway, gift bag, and flowers on the kitchen island in front of you. Then swiftly pecked you on the cheek and ran his finger down your spine.

“Happy Valentines Day.” John whispered in your ear leaving another kiss to your cheek.

Taking the single pink rose he walked over to his snarky daughter, handing her the single rose he’d bought her. It had Evelyn giggling and kicking her feet. For you, seeing John be sweet to your daughter had your heart fluttering. You felt guilty for being so petty the previous night. Throwing the flowers away in front of John felt cruel and you hated how your stubbornness won out and influenced you to stay mad instead of communicating that you felt forgotten and disappointed.

Your anger had dissipated greatly after a phone call to your father to rant. Like usual your dad made light of the situation until you were frustrated and then he gave you some very wise advice. Telling you most women would kill for a husband as involved, dedicated, loyal, and most of all one who takes initiative. That it was clearly a mistake and if you wanted to crucify John for it to go ahead. But it could lead to John being equally as hard on you in the future if you were to make a similar mistake. Would it truly make you feel better to reject his love and effort now when that’s what you truly wanted yesterday?

The way John always looked so handsome in his camouflage quarter zip and matching cargo pants did something to you. How he tucked in his shirts, the way his belt accentuated his v-shaped waist, how his large muscular biceps bulged being confined in the fabric. Your husband was mesmerizing especially after bringing you two dozen roses, your favorite food, and being a gentleman to your daughter. It made the sting dissipate greatly.

“Thanks daddy.” Evelyn sang the words and sniffed the flower as John placed a quick kiss to the top of her head.

“How was your day, darling?” John was back by your side giving you a calm reluctant smile. His large hand was caressing your back lovingly and you couldn’t deny how good it felt.

“Fine. I see you’ve come to make peace.” Your sweet smile and kind eyes had John blinking in surprise. He wasn’t expecting humor, John thought you’d continue giving him the cold shoulder or have something snarky to say.

“So does this mean daddy gets some of the cookies we made? Cuz I think meanies shouldn’t get cookies.” Both John and your faces dropped at Evelyn’s sass. You two shared a look that communicated ‘threes a crowd.’

“Evelyn, how about I handle your father. Go hang out with Jj in the living room.” Your words were a bit sharp. It had your daughter falling in line but she’d have to give you a bit of a fight.

“Okay, fineee.” Evelyns exasperated sigh being so cute you had to stifle a giggle while John rolled his eyes. She dramatically grabbed her crayon, snatched her paper up and left her rose on the table.

“No doubt she’s my daughter.” You quietly joked to John who snickered at your remark. Your charm was helping quell his nervousness. He couldn’t help but stare at you and how beautiful you looked with your hair down wearing leggings and an old faded t-shirt. The guilt John felt for letting you down yesterday when all he wanted to do was spoil you rotten made his chest tight.

“Can you put my rose in water and leave it on my dresser. It has to be next to my lamp so it gets light.” Evelyn asked John who nodded in acknowledgment. He didn’t have the heart to break it to her that her lamp would do nothing to keep that rose alive longer.

“Sure. Give this to your brother please.” John handed Evelyn a king sized candy bar as Jj’s valentines present from him.

“Think he’ll share it?” Evelyn asked, eyes going wide at how big the chocolate bar was.

“You know he will, now run along.” You said with a grin, nudging your head toward the door.

You looked on expectantly as Evelyn slowly walked out of the kitchen. She was dragging her feet and giving you her cutest face hoping you’d ask her to stay but you didn’t. Once out of sight you heard her huff rather annoyed and then her feet could be heard padding against the hardwood of the hall to the living room.

John had been staring at you the entire time looking uncharacteristically timid. You had been so cold yesterday the fact you seemed back to normal was confusing to the poor man. John knew you as a forgiving person but even he knew forgetting Valentine’s Day was a huge fuck up. You were always so sweet and thoughtful any holiday that he strived to be as romantic but he failed miserably yesterday.

“Im so sorry about yesterday.” It was clear how sincerely sorry your husband was but it still stung that he had forgotten Valentine’s Day. His blue eyes were turned down at the corners while his hand continued to stroke your back lovingly.

“I know.” You said evenly as you opened the chocolates John placed on the counter and ate one.

Carefully John watched you pull the tissue paper from the gift bag to reveal the massage oils, bath salts, a candle he’d purchased and the mini bottle of champagne. The card inside was next and he felt slightly relieved to see a small smile spread across your face.

‘You’re in charge tonight, Darling. Your wish is my command.’

The note had you grinning. John used your similar message only he decorated the small white card in crudely drawn hearts with pink high lighter. His note lacked the sexual undertone and was quite sappy with how many X’s and O’s he signed it with.

“How can I make it up to you? I feel awful.” John had inched his way closer. Wrapping his strong arms around you and tucking you under his broad shoulder, he whispered in your ear. He smelled of his comforting woodsy cologne and oaky beard oil that he knew you loved.

“A full body massage would be nice. But first the kitchen needs a scrub down. There’s dishes too. So once I’m done with that.” You buried your face in the crook of John’s shoulder and melted into his embrace. His chest was warm and it felt safe being held in his arms as if he were enveloping your body in his much larger one.

“Let me go run you a bath and I’ll get right to it, let me pamper you. And don’t worry about the laundry or kids I’ve got it covered.” John kissed your forehead, squeazed you tight and went to leave.

Swiftly you caught John by the elbow and pulled him to look at you. Taking his bearded face in your palms your thumbs stroked his cheeks and you gave him a soft yet loving smile.

“You act like you don’t normally help me with that stuff. You’re an amazing husband and father. Always offering a helping hand, never needing me to ask you to do things, you just do them. And when I do ask you’re so willing, it blows my mind sometimes. One mistake isn’t going to cause a big fight but can you promise you’ll make it up to me next year?” You’d practiced what you wanted to say all day in your head and it felt good telling John you weren’t mad at him anymore.

“I’ll make it up to you tonight, and this Saturday because I got a sitter and I’ll be whisking you away. And next Valentine’s Day I’m gonna knock your socks of, that’s a promise.” John squished your face between his palms and planted a big obnoxiously loud kiss to your lips.

You laughed and tried to pull away only for John to hold you in place and start planting kiss after kiss to your lips and cheeks. Through the laughter you were able to push John away and catch your breath.

“See, even when you mess up you show up and do your best to course correct. I knew there was a reason I married you.” It was an easy confession and you loved seeing that confident, charming smile back on your husband’s bearded face.

“And there’s countless reasons I married you. Now pour yourself that champagne, enjoy your favorite food, and I’ll go run you a bath.” With a firm smack to your ass that made you yelp John walked backwards out of the room giving you a flirtatious wink.

“I love you, John.” You called after him only to giggle at how he poked his head back in the kitchen.

“I love you too and I’ll love you for the rest of my days, and a little after that.” With a confident smile John disappeared upstairs to start your very well deserved night of pampering.

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

@exhaustedpotat0 @glitterypirateduck @ivymarquis @crazymela @what-0-life @boredfairy4 @hihhasotherfixations @stephanswhxre @shanjisan @k4es @luvleywrites @kita03-0 @midwesternwitchery @aleynaleia @suckerforbassist @misshoneypaper @theaonlax @blackstar9005 @tooterbutt @havoc973 @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @freshlemontea @cosmoscoffeee @sae1kie @ohworm-writes @ghostslittlegf @fanficwriterlover @arminarlertssword @faceache111 @azu21 @thirstyb-ches @nini-11-08 @sgtgarricks @kiki-is-hyperfixating

[rookiesbookies]

Konig and His Loser

Sex Doll AU, here's the one that won my poll. sorry he took so long- big thank you to @shotmrmiller for helping me edit and get it to perfection ❤️

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, check out my AU list for more like this. Don’t forget to leave me a comment (i always try to respond) or a request in my inbox (i also try to respond to these when I can), a reblog, or even just a like to let me know what yall want to see!

Konig seemed pretty similar to the other stories but she had found him in a magazine. A simple magazine ad, but she just called it in, why not right?

Well, she hadn’t read the size well and was lucky that they had to call a moving company to get him in from the warehouse. 

She couldn't believe her luck as she watched the movers gingerly maneuver the box that held Konig through the narrow hallway of her apartment building. 

As they finally managed to get Konig into her living room, just from the outside of his box she could tell he was huge.

After fighting open the box once the movers had left, she stood back in awe, taking in every intricately carved detail of his frame. His features were striking yet delicate, a perfect balance of strength and vulnerability that seemed to draw her in deeper with each passing moment.

Once freed she saw that he was a masterpiece in person, not done justice by the pages of that damned ad, a work of art that had seemingly materialized from her dreams onto the glossy pages of the magazine ad. 

Especially his scars. The big ugly ones that littered his face. He looked like whatever mask he had come with had caught on fire at some point. She had a hard time telling if it was by design or not.

She spent hours just sitting in front of him, tracing the lines and curves of his form with her fingertips, feeling his skin and texture. He felt so close to human. It was as if he held a piece of her soul within him, a connection that transcended time and space.

Over the days that followed, she found herself drawn to Konig more and more, losing herself in the depths of his enigmatic presence. She tried hard to figure out how to 'activate' him as he did turn on in the instruction manual. They manual made it clear there seemed to be one, but as she fiddled with his clothes and appercence to try to turn her new toy on.

She truly did her best but she had been watching some movies from her childhood on reruns when the idea of 'true love's kiss' jumped into her mind.

She felt him breathe against her after she planted it softly on his lip. His hands moved to her hips and pulled her closer and over his lap. He held her close, his touch familiar and comforting, but maybe that was just her delusion. She could feel the warmth of his body against hers as they embraced in the dimly lit room. 

The soft patter of rain on the windows created a soothing background melody to their not so silent dance. She nestled into his arms, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Time seemed to stand still as they lingered in that moment of intimacy, savoring the connection that bound them together. 

Despite the mask that concealed his identity, she knew him intimately and cherished the bond they shared beyond words or appearances in some deep, almost spiritual way. And so they remained entwined, two souls intertwined in a delicate balance of love and uncertainty, lost in the beauty of their silent embrace.

He stayed quiet, almost scary quiet and they kissed over his mask. Feeling eachother’s lips through the fabric of an old t-shirt.

His hands moved lower, tracing the curves of her body as he rid her of her pajama pants. She gasped at the touch, her skin tingling with desire. His fingers were gentle yet firm, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, his tough fingers from working on the field roaming her.

She couldn't help but feel self-conscious as his eyes roamed over her exposed body. He didn't seem to mind. In fact, his touch was filled with such tenderness and adoration that it made her heart swell with emotion.

He kissed her again, keeping the thin barrier of his mask, his lips demanding and insistent. She responded eagerly, losing herself in the passion that consumed them both. For a moment, she forgot about everything else - the world outside their room, their past lives and all their struggles. All that mattered was this moment and the overwhelming sense of love they shared. His hulking figure even more imposing with all his gear on.

His hand traveled lower, teasing between her legs until she moaned against his lips. He continued to explore every inch of her body until she was trembling with desire.

He lifted her onto her couch. He scooted up and put her legs over his shoulders and just went to town after draping his mask over her lower lips. It was like he was starved, leaving her gasping. He was messy, her slick coating his face before he lifted himself and leaned her back. He whispered some coaxing things in a language she didn't understand, she assumed they were coaxing at least.

With hesitation, he guided his delicious uncut cock inside of her, it barely escaped his heavy military pants, and she gasped at the sensation. It wasn’t similar to anything she or he had ever experienced before - a perfect pleasure that sent shivers down her spine. He was so big, long, a girthy that she couldn't believe it. She was so on Cloud 9 that she felt like she couldn't breathe. It was like his dick was up in her throat stopping any words from leaving her. His tip hit her cervix and his breathing got heavy with hers as he tore off his helmet with one hand and went back to kissing her, draping his mask over the lower half of her face. Her eyes were rolling around her skull, she was high on the way he rubbing on her insides. The feeling was a certain type of suffocatingly delicious moment as their breaths mixed under his mask.

As they moved together in some perfect harmony, it felt like they were two pieces finally coming together to complete each other's puzzle. She was lost in his embrace, finding solace and comfort in their shared intimacy.

When they finally reached their climax, it felt like fireworks exploding in every corner of the room. He collapsed as gently as he could onto his forearms to keep from falling on her, breathing heavily as they basked in the aftermath of their love.

For a while, they lay there in silence, feeling content and fulfilled in each other's presence. As the rain continued to pour outside, they remained wrapped up in each other- two imperfect beings finding perfection in their love for one another.

All she could think about was, from how he panted like a dog, maybe he was a loser too.