#i figured it was from something but never would've guessed what

[slight-gaming-addict]

Hello! Can I please request for prompt 6 one shot with Idia x reader please? Idk if I’m doing this right so please ignore this if I am

~ you're unaware of the past inhabitant still living in your newly bought house ~

pairing: idia shroud x gn!reader

warnings: mentions of a dead body and blood, supernatural elements, gunshot wound, possible grammar errors, probably more warnings

word count: 1.4k

event masterlist | main masterlist | ko-fi

ʜᴀᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ

Everyone you know called you crazy for even thinking of getting a house like this. The cursed house that hasn't had a single owner keep the house for more than a month before it was back on the market again. The real estate agent was ecstatic as she led you through the house after your interest in it, showing you each and every thing that's been done to it over the last year that it's been on the market to try and attract new buyers.

With all the new modern renovations that have been done, you would've thought that it would be at least double the price than it was, and you soon learned why it was so cheap on the market.

Some years ago there was apparently a gruesome murder of a young man that happened in the house, and it's never been the same ever since. Every single person that's stayed in this house has left as quickly as they arrived, claiming that they'd awake to things being thrown around the house and voices echoing throughout making it known that they were not wanted there.

You've never really had a paranormal experience before, but you'd be lying if you weren't the slightest bit curious if the stories about the house are true. You don't have another option anyway, the house being the only place in the neighborhood that's in your budget, and you don't really see the appeal of sleeping in your car.

The real estate agent is practically bouncing on her feet as you officially sign the deed to the house as well as the check for the down payment that you still feel should have been higher, but you're not going to complain.

A couple of weeks later, you have practically everything unpacked—not that you had much—and are settling into the house nicely. You haven't had anything that they said has happened in the house happen to you, so you figured the rumors were just that, rumors.

It isn't until late one night that something happens. You're rinsing off a dish in the sink when a mug that sits next to you on the counter suddenly falls off and shatters to the ground.

You jump, dropping the dish you had in your hand into the sink. You look down at the smashed pieces on the floor next to your feet and take a step away from the glass. Looking around the room, you see nothing out of place that would cause it to happen, and you didn't think it was that close to the edge of the counter, but after a couple minutes of contemplating how it happened, the only reason you come up with is you accidentally bumping it, even though you don't remember doing it.

The next day, you're back in the kitchen making breakfast when the blender suddenly starts from across the room. You jump once again at the sudden noise, turning around from what you're doing. You walk up to the blender with confusion, not even remembering plugging it in. Trying to turn it off, you hit the power button, but the blender continues to whirl. You hit all the buttons, but nothing seems to turn it off. Eventually, you reach behind it and yank the power cord out of the wall, letting the blender finally come to a stop to plunge the room into a sudden silence.

You shake your head, trying to rationalize it, but not knowing how. You guess faulty wiring could come into play, though it's not that likely it's the only excuse you have. Your mind wanders to the rumors of the house and the reasoning why countless other people have left previously, but you don't have a choice right now, needing somewhere to live. You just hope you don't regret the decision to stay later down the line.

A week passes and small things keep happening around the house, things being knocked off counters, lights turning off as soon as you flip them on, and furniture being shifted from its position. The thought of leaving crosses your mind a couple of times, but all the things that happen seem so minor that you don't feel like you're in any real danger.

It isn't until one night that it changes. You're walking into your bedroom from the bathroom, getting ready to go to bed when you hear a low voice emitting from the corner of the room.

"Why won't you just leave?" Your heart jumps into your throat as you turn to face the noise, letting out a small scream as you see a figure in the corner.

Idia lets out a small scream similar to yours when he realizes that you can actually see him in the room. "You can see me?" He asks in disbelief as you push yourself against the opposite wall with wide eyes.

"How did you get in here?" You say, his questions not even registering in your mind that's completely scrambled at the moment. You would have probably recognized him from the images online from all of the articles about the house if you weren't too busy thinking someone broke into your house.

"Hey, wait-" He tries to speak, but you're preoccupied with grabbing the first thing you can and swinging it directly at him. You watch the object phase right through him and hit the wall behind him before dropping to the ground. Your eyes widen as a puff of light smoke covers the area where he just was before dissipating completely.

"What the-" Your eyebrows crease in confusion, looking at the now empty spot where the person just was.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't throw things at me." His voice sounds from next to you this time causing your body to jump and spin around, finding him standing next to your bathroom door this time.

"How did you-" You look back at the spot he just was in wonder as to how he got across the room without you seeing him. Looking towards the person once again is when his appearance finally clicks into your brain. "You're Idia..." As soon as the words leave your mouth, he's groaning out in annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm the poor guy who was murdered in his own home because he couldn't hear the intruder walking into his room from his stupid noise-canceling headphones." You just stare at him, trying to process the information of you physically speaking to someone who's not alive.

"But, how are you here?" You ask, your voice quiet as if you're scared of scaring him off.

"I wish I knew." He sighs out folding his arms over his chest in almost a defensive position. The last thing Idia remembers was sitting in front of his computer, ready to drown out the world around him and finally use his noise-canceling headphones when suddenly everything went dark.

He didn't hear the person breaking in through the headphones and the next thing he knew, he was staring down at the scene in front of him. His body was lying face down on the keyboard, blood dripping down onto the floor from the gunshot wound in his head, and even from seeing all that, he was the most upset about his brand new headphones getting blood all over them, and the very expensive keyboard getting completely ruined.

He's been wandering around the house ever since, watching the police come in and do their investigation, and the first people to move in since the incident. He didn't even mean to do it at first, but he knocked a painting off the wall when he saw them get settled in what was once his room. He saw their reaction and figured he could continue to move and knock things over, trying, and succeeding to run them out of the house.

He'd do it for every single person that would move into the house, working flawlessly, until you that is. He's not even sure how you're able to see him, no one else could.

"You're the reason why no one's been able to stay in the house." You say, everything starting to come together in your mind, like seeing a ghost, or spirit, or whatever you'd call it, standing right in front of you is an everyday occurrence.

"Yeah, well they were loud. Especially the ones with a newborn, it was like a screaming fest in here, I couldn't even hear myself think." Idia speaks out in a small huff.

"You realize every time you scare someone off you're just going to have to deal with more people coming in to check out the place." You say, looking at him expectedly.

Idia opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but then closes it again.

"Fine," he says after a few seconds.

"So I can stay?" You ask with a small smile. Idia just sighs out before disappearing through another light mist. You're taking that as a yes.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

buy me a coffee ♡

[rambling-robot]

a common thing in my experience with indie horror (i'm specifically talking about video games and animation) is that a lot of it references other, often well-known horror stories. sometimes it's just a cute little "ahaha yes the clowns are from space" or a bloody elevator moment. but i'm not super familiar with a lot of popular horror (ie Stephen King), so there are a lot of things i won't get and i'll end up associating it solely with what i'm watching. a youtube analysis explaining all of the references can be helpful with understanding some of what i just saw, but i'm not going to re-watch it and go, "oh, wow, this is just one long rip-off of references." i'm going to go, "oh wow, this makes more sense with the newly-gained background knowledge. what an incredible work of art." art referencing other art to make new art or something like that. love it.

[blisterthigh]

do you ever think about the people who mailed in letters for the first x-force and cable runs about badly wanting to see more of domino because she was unsympathetic and cold and competent. and then that first solo dropped and she sounded like this and this seems to be what 70% of the people writing her have been going off of to this day

[seelestia]

✧ the gambler and his knight.

aventurine can't stand having his outfit exposed to the elements nor to the rude hands of clients that won't cooperate – luckily for him, he has you to take care of it all. { aventurine with a bodyguard!reader. }

⎯ fluff & angst. 2.9k wc. headcanons w/ some written scenes. the plot is vv subtle but it's there a.k.a aventurine simps for you (jokingly) but you both end up catching feelings (not jokingly). mentions of violence, death & russian roulette. pre-penacony timeline. a self-indulgent piece to celebrate this blog's 2nd anniv! ★

★ 〜 masterlist.

© seelestia on tumblr, june 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

aventurine who graciously welcomes you under his employment with a game. just a little something to ease your nerves and get you used to his ways. you look at him with such incredulity as if he just fell and hit his head silly. he pays no mind to this – finds it to be amusing a great deal, actually. keep it up, newcomer!

“heads or tails?” he asks, flipping a coin in the air and catching it seamlessly. a routine for him, you would've figured from the sight. “that's. . . an odd way of saying hello,” you point out but your tone bears no hint of protest. he notices that.

“i've heard that one before,” aventurine tilts his head with a smile, nonchalant. “so what's your guess?”

“tails,” you reply without any delay. it's a mindless answer; getting it wrong this way would prove to bear less disappointment compared to putting actual thought in it. “heads for me then,” he whistles.

aventurine opens his palm. it's heads. you frown as if to suspect foul play—but you don't because you know about his notoriously good luck—and your new boss chuckles, almost placatingly.

“looks like i win,” he grins without a care in the world at all. “aren't you starving? let's fetch ourselves a meal, friend.”

a loss rewarded with a prize? you blink. with grace so in contrast to the whiplash you feel, aventurine walks past you with a trail of expensive perfume in his wake. obviously, he expects you to follow and you do after a moment's reluctance.

(this guy is more confusing than the stellaron.)

aventurine who grows quite fond of seeing you acquiesce to his wishes, whether serious or trivial. could you ward off those reporters? could you pour him a drink? could you play a game of poker with him? could you join him for lunch? you're always so professional that he starts to find some mirth in pushing your buttons (never too much). unlucky for you, he does it to be affectionate and lucky for him, you always say yes even if you roll your eyes every single time.

aventurine who trusts you with his credit card. . . to a worrying degree. when asked if he's sure about this, he just waves it off and says it'll be safer in your hands. seriously, this card has been in your possession longer than it's ever been in his. sometimes, he does ask for it back – only to drop some 200k credits to your account. “a tip for doing a good job,” he'd wink casually while you're flabbergasted beyond belief.

aventurine who finds it extremely attractive whenever you step in to protect him from harm. dealing with uncooperative clients is a day in his life, yet some are so brutish they resort to getting physical – but he has you to make sure their hands stay off him. a gun in his direction? knocked off before the trigger even has a chance to get pulled. reaching out to grab him by the collar? they're already on the ground, your foot threateningly pressed on their back as a warning. what a dashing sight – and thanks to you, his pristine outfit has been saved more times than he could count at this point.

aventurine who likes to call you his “knight in shining armor” teasingly. awh, you don't like it? he thinks you're more than deserving of that title with the way you always swoop in to get him out of trouble. if the thousands of credits he gives you aren't enough yet, won't a cute title suffice? “it sounds corny,” you tell him with a grimace—and maybe, yes—but he just chirps coyly, “dunno. i think it's fitting.”

aventurine who makes it his responsibility to check on you after a rough mission. credits are no problem, he'd even reserve the most expensive private doctor in the cosmos if that means you'll recover faster. sadly, he has little to no medical skills – so the most he can offer you is bandages. sure, you can take a bullet to the stomach and handle a punch or two, that's your job, but what about tiny scratches? . . .don't tell him you're about to reject his kind offer.

“what's your favorite color?” he queries, somewhat out of the blue considering the situation where he is helping you tend to a minor cut on your finger. you raise an eyebrow, “why do you wanna know?” as he gently plasters a plain-colored bandage on your skin (which he's only been granted permission to after minutes of begging you to let him do it).

“for the bandages,” aventurine answers. he finds no need to hide his intentions as he runs a thumb over the bandage, softly as to not hurt you, to keep its position secure. “so that the next time you ask, i'll have some in your favorite color for sure.”

“how. . . thoughtful of you,” you snort, amused.

(briefly, he resists the urge to ask if he can place a kiss on your cut for 'luck'. but if he does, you might have his head. so, he'll try another time.)

aventurine who slowly begins to find a sense of comfort in your company. maybe, it's the way you scoff at his quips with a smile or the way you always tell him to be careful. maybe, it's the way you take him seriously or the way you stay by his side—is your job description the only reason why?—or maybe, he's just pathetic and reeks of so much loneliness you feel sympathetic. he can't tell, but he hopes the luxuries he has can persuade you to stay just a little longer. even if you don't actually care. (you do.)

aventurine who notices how anxiety brims in your gaze when you watch him gamble at the table – with a sum too high to be considered sane and sometimes, his own life. he can see it all; how your hands shake as if you want to reach out, how your lips tremble as if you want to tell him to stop. but this is what he's made for, is it not? he'll survive one way or another. . . until fate decides the bill for all his past good fortune is finally due. and when the time comes, he'll be ready for it. (will you?)

a game of russian roulette.

it always starts with thrills only to end with carnage spilled all over the table. luck is the only thing worth praying for at that point and oh, is luck not the dearest friend aventurine ever had? hence the reason why he always agrees, not with a yes but with a “why not?”.

you're there as his protector, yet utterly condemned to the role of a witness as soon as aventurine nods along to that darned game. panic rushes through your veins as the gun is passed around so relaxedly, so easily with laughter all around. aventurine's next in line, you realize grimly. the next decision that comes after is spontaneous, so different from your usual calculated nature – you drag him out of the casino in a frenzy before the weapon even lands in his hand. in your head, there is no other thought louder than: he could've died.

“a shame i didn't get to the fun part,” you hear him hum from behind you, too disturbingly calm for your liking. the bustling noises inside the establishment have all but faded into the background. “that was close, hm?” he laughs, a sound you would've found endearing if this was another occasion. any occasion that doesn't involve teetering dangerously on the precipice of death.

you stop in your tracks and aventurine, behind you, naturally follows. your silence is something he first takes note of and the way your hand shakes as it holds his is the second. you still haven't let go. what's going through your mind? he calls out your name softly, perplexed at your lack of explanation.

“. . .why did you say yes?” you respond with a bitter question. “you could've died. you almost died,” you try to hold back a shout – yet, your words are spat in such a fusillade he feels a seed of guilt starting to bloom inside his lifeless heart. he discards it in favor of putting on a frivolous smile.

“oh, relax,” he lets out a chuckle, one that sounds so ignorant of the taut tension in the air. “it's just some russian roulette. why so serious?” he shrugs as if to physically brush off any seriousness clinging to his figure. his remark gives off the assumption that every single hint of your worry has flown over his head.

“it is serious. . .” you bite your bottom lip. he sneers in return, “yeah? since when?” as if to challenge you to give an actual answer. his life is full of risks, to say otherwise would be a lie. “you're sweet for worrying but you don't actually care about me that much, do you?” he snickers to himself. like the thought of your caring about him can't possibly be true, like it's all just a terrible joke.

but he's the only one laughing.

aventurine falls quiet and finally, genuinely meets your gaze for the first time that night. he doesn't like what he sees. your lips are downturned, unamused and saddened—you do care, a realization that has been left unsaid—and all remainders of levity in him are replaced by immediate dread. it only now registers that the anger, concern, frustration on your face are for him; they're the unavoidable consequences from caring about him.

(his eyes widen. no, no, no.)

“c'mon, you—” he covers it up with a carefree smile, as feigned as it came. he shoves his hand in one of his pockets. it's shaking. “. . .worry too much. you've seen me play a handful of games before. i've never lost a wager, remember?”

you don't look convinced at all. in fact, you look as if you've arrived at the brink of seething. “and if you do? for once in your life, you lose?” you prod him for more. for something, for anything – perhaps, for a promise that he won't do it again.

(but you know aventurine, you know there would be no such promise.)

“then i lose,” he says, final and resigned. “there's really nothing else to it,” he tries to offer you another smile but it didn't quite reach his eyes. “hey. at least, you'll be there to witness my spectacular fall, right? it'll be a show to remember.”

he nearly doesn't manage to keep up the façade. it's already as precarious as it can be. you don't reply to him this time – instead, you let go of his hand to wipe at your cheeks. his gaze trails after your fingers and it freezes upon seeing the pearly tears falling free from your eyes.

aventurine has never seen you cry before. you're always so stone-faced, so hard to break that he recalls almost cheering when he heard you laugh for the first time. that was when you finally won a round of poker against him. a pity, he would've reminisced about the memory more. . . if only the matter of losing and winning a game isn't as serious as it is now.

“don't say that,” you mutter, harshly wiping away at the incessant tears pouring from your eyes more than you'd ever allow them to. some make their way into your mouth, they taste just as bitter as your current frustration. does he truly value his life so little? you can't fathom it, you can't fathom him at all.

but there is one thing you were certain of, at the very least: “you hired me to protect you,” you shake your head unrelentingly, “so i'll do it. until you throw me away, i won't let you die.”

you've stopped crying then. aventurine feels remorse; the tears that you shed because of him are starting to dry. the selfish part of him wants to reach out and brush them away with his thumb – but would you let him? would this lead you further down the rabbit hole that is him? in the end, he decides against it.

“. . .i'm sorry,” he sighs instead, raking a hand through his messy blond hair. whatever it is he is apologizing for, he doesn't have a clue either. he lets his eyes slip shut. he can't bear to look at you, can't bear to look at his pitiful reflection in your eyes.

(he's not worth caring about, can't you see? he dances hand in hand with death – there is no need to subject yourself to being a spectator.)

the two of you then part ways that night with shallow pleasantries on your tongues. no inside jokes, no evident yearning for the other to stay, no more than an awkward exchange of “i'll see you tomorrow.”

on his way 'home', regret and relief clash to form something inexplicably hollow inside kakavasha's chest. he wanted to wipe away your tears—what a regret—but if he did, they would've burned on his skin and became another mark to haunt him—what a relief he didn't. and frankly, if destiny is about to reap his debt, he'd rather go with no regrets at all.

whether those regrets include you? he doesn't have an answer just yet.

(the name at the bottom of his contract with fate is signed as kakavasha. but you wouldn't recognize that name. not as him, at least.)

aventurine whose eyes can't flutter close at night ever since thoughts of you fill his mind more than they already do before. you care for him, you want him to live—all his fault, he allowed himself to get too close—but these realizations are rooted in too deep and refuse to leave. what to do, what to do, what to do?

it isn't supposed to turn out like this.

what he and you have is meant to be transactional; he'd be spared from unnecessary scuffles and you'd be compensated with monetary payment. he means to keep it superficially fun; for him to tease you with jests—so you'd stay and save him from the deafening silence in his head—and for you to dismiss him with that adorably annoyed look on your face. just some silly banter, that's it.

so then, since when are there rounds of poker where he'd coo over your frown when you lost? or the sound of your lecturing after he secretly got you a high-end item? or meals shared together where you'd bicker over the bill? or bandages in your favorite color kept inside his bedside table? since when do you start to care? . . .since when does he start to care?

think of something else.

kakavasha tosses and turns in his bed, but the soft pillows and blanket do nothing to quell these bothers of his. are feelings always this complicated? he places a hand over his eyes, tired and exhausted, and stares at the ceiling as if it could provide him with an answer.

but there's no use.

in a moment void of logical thinking, he reaches for his phone and hovers a finger over your name in his contacts. he is usually good friends with bad ideas – but not this time, he sets his phone down and lets out a frustrated sigh that only his expensive pillows are there to hear.

(for gaiathra's sake, he hasn't even told you his real name yet.)

aventurine who becomes awfully distant the next time he sees you. you accompany him to meetings with clients per usual, but it's different. . . he talks to you succinctly, not verbosely with that trademark grin of his. his face is bereft of the things you grow to like seeing on him. a sincere smile instead of one just for show, for example. but even that's difficult to ask for since he only speaks to fill the silence with empty chatter. he doesn't look you in the eyes either; you feel a pang of hurt, you've always loved his eyes.

aventurine who discards all thoughts of you as soon as he steps inside pier point to be assigned a project. a conclave between the stonehearts is a matter of top confidentiality and you, dutifully, are ordered to wait for him outside the office. though, he'll admit; your absence by his side actually does leave a gaping void—such hypocrisy, really—but at least, those pesky voices in his head know how to shut up when it comes to work.

“penacony. . . is diamond finally ready to do something about it?”

aventurine rests his left hand on the small of his back, fiddling with the clubs-shaped detailing on the fabric there. it looks like an act of idleness from afar, but anyone observant enough would know it's a way to subdue whatever nerves he wishes to hide.

he waits for the person in front of him, gazing at the purplish-red sky of pier point at sunset, to speak. for their next words shall mark the start of his next journey in fate's course.

aventurine who hesitates to let you come to penacony with him at first. but it'd be poor reasoning not to, since some might have a bone to pick with him as the corporation's representative. . . and he knows you'll protest to come with anyway. fine then, situationship discomfiture be damned – not even a second after he steps out of the meeting, his neon eyes finally meet yours. “so, how does a trip to penacony sound?” he announces with a confident smile. you blink, noticing how his lips are wobbling at the sides. you don't say no, however. (if only the two of you know what sort of ride you're getting yourselves into.)

— thanks for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated. why don't we all sob over this man like it's a cryfest ♡

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

Can you do headcanons for a young child reader who constantly follows jax around, loves physical affection, and thinks jax is their 'dad'?

(Obviously this request is plantonic, not romantic!)

I think I might've went a little overboard with this one! Way longer than most of my posts but I guess that isn't really a bad thing ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Jax unwillingly becomeing a parent

★ His first and only question was how the hell did a four year old get in this situation. The headset should have been way out of reach for you. Questions that will never be answered, I guess.

★ After making you cry the first time he spoke to you he tried to steer clear of you. That worked out horribly because you seemed to want to always be near him. Much to everyone's confusion.

★ "oh my! Looks like the little one has taken an interest in you!" Was Cain's response to seeing you huddled up near Jax. At some point he gets a child harness to keep you in his line of sight. It's just easier this way.

★ By the way he didn't mean to make you cry, he just didn't know how young you were and said something he would've said to an adult. Kids cry easily, what are you gonna do?

★ Jax stole a few pillows from Kinger for you to sleep with. Yes, you don't technically need to sleep but he's not going to tell you that. Nap time is one of the only times he can get a moment to himself.

★ He gets beyond pissed when you get woken up during nap time. To the point where he's barely keeping it together and wants to beat whoever woke you up with a chair leg.

★ If you want to be picked up, then he's picking you up. It doesn't matter if he's talking to somebody or doing something. You'll get picked up while he's doing something and without missing a beat he'll continue like nothing happened.

★ Instead of giving you the usual Jax treatment, he just tells you the most outlandish lies while trying to convince you that they are true. Sometimes he tells you something that sounds so true you don't question his bullshit.

There's a list of things he's told you!

If you push down on Ragatha's nose it will make a honking noise.

There's a secret room hidden in a closet filled with veggies for people who are allergic to meat.

Birds aren't real.

When he was your age, he was a year older. (It took you a moment to figure that one out)

Caine is the tooth fairy.

★ Jax isn't known for his empathy, but he does feel conflicted when you talk about small details from your life before meeting him. What color your house was, the lullabies your mother sang and the books you used to be read. It all makes him think.

★ You're family might be looking for you, not knowing where you are and that you're trapped. Do you even realize this? They probably think you're dead, that something terrible happened to you. Those thoughts make his stomach sink.

★ If he cares about you this much he can only imagine the grief your family feels. You will forever be a blissfully ignorant child not knowing the truth of what's really going on.

[cozage]

It's me again, feel free to ignore this if you're only taking 1 request per person

Congrats on 2k followers ♡

I would like to request, option 1, the reader asking "can I give you a kiss? If you don't like it, you can can return it" with Zoro, Sanji and Luffy (if you can also with Law, Ace and/or Kid)

Thank you in advance, hope you have a lovely day ♡

Nonsense! If you send it in and I like it, I'll write it! This was a fun request too :) I would've done them all if I had the time <3

Characters: gn reader x Zoro, Sanji, Luffy Total word count: 740

Returned Kisses

Zoro

“Zoro!” you sang, skipping across the deck. “I have a question.”

Zoro groaned. Your questions were never as simple as you initially made them out to be. 

“Can I give you a kiss?” you asked, your cheeks turning a cute rose color. “If you don’t like it, I can return it!”

Zoro scowled at you, trying to decipher your strange slew of words. “How do you return a kiss?” he asked. He set down the weights he had been using, trying not to sound too interested. 

“I guess you’ll just have to see!”

His eyes scanned the ship. There was nobody else around. And he had to admit, he was curious how your lips tasted. 

“Make it quick, then.” He sighed, trying to act as if he were apathetic to the whole idea, but his pinkened cheeks did not go overlooked. 

Your lips pressed against his, and he could taste a distinct sugary sweetness Normally he hated sweets, but he found it quite enjoyable upon your lips. 

When you finally pulled away, he quickly wetted his own lips with his tongue, desperate to get another taste. 

“I think I’ll return it,” he said, looking at you. 

“Oh.” Your shoulders slumped in defeat. “Not very good then, was-?”

He pushed his lips back against yours with a sort of desperation and hunger that you weren’t expecting, and your mouth fell open in surprise against his. He quickly pushed his tongue past your lips, hungry  for more of your sweetness. 

When he finally pulled away, he shot you a cocky smirk. “Maybe you should try again later. I might not return it next time.”

Sanji

“Sanji!” You opened the swinging door to the kitchen, searching for him. 

“Do you need something, my love?” he asked. “Whatever you want, I will gladly give you.”

“Great!” you smiled. “I was thinking I could give you something, though.”

“Me?” He looked around the room, trying to figure out what you meant. 

“Yeah! I was thinking I could give you a kiss,” you offered. “If you didn’t like it-Sanji!”

The poor cook had collapsed to the ground, sent into shock by your offer. He seemed to be mumbling and babbling words, but you couldn’t make them out. 

You knelt down next to him, pulling his head into your lap to make sure he was okay. 

“Oh, Y/N love,” he whispered, finally coming back to his senses. “I had this strange dream where you offered to kiss me.”

You laughed. “I did offer to kiss you.”

His eyes were suddenly clear now, and very focused on your lips. So you bent down and pressed them against his own. You could hear his breathing become shallow, but you steeled your nerves and stayed there for a moment before you pulled away. 

“If you don’t like it, you can return it,” you whispered. 

Sanji’s eyes were practically hearts as he stared up at you. “Can I still return it even if I did like it?”

You giggled, crinkling your nose as you laughed. “I suppose so.”

“Good!” He reached up and pulled you back down to him, keeping his lips pressed into yours until Luffy ran into the kitchen looking for more food. 

Luffy

“Luffy! Come here!” you called up to the captain. He was in his seat on the figurehead, like always. 

“You come here!” he yelled back. Rubber arms extended towards you and whipped you up next to him. “What’s up?”

“Can I give you a kiss?” you asked. “You can return it if-”

His lips smashed against yours, and you could feel his mouth stretching into a smile. You couldn’t help but smile too, your head foggy with giddiness at his willingness to say yes. 

He finally pulled away from you, his laugh filling the air around you. “That was nice.”

“I was supposed to give you a kiss, Luffy!” You were trying to scold him, but you couldnt wipe that stupid smile off your face. 

“Do you want to give me one?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. “You can give me another one!”

You leaned back into another kiss, his arms already wrapped around your neck. He was trying not to be too eager, but once your fingers tangled into his raven locks, he abandoned all common sense and worked to devour as much of you as he could get.

[cosmicpearlz]

fragile hearts

summary: two public figures that try to navigate their relationship with such hectic schedules. at some point, it was bound to come crashing down, right?

pairing: jude bellingham x singer!reader

valentine's day, cryin' in the hotel

i know you didn't mean to hurt me,

so i kept it to myself.

-

meeting jude had been a complete accident. you had a show in madrid, causing some of the players from real madrid to go. he happened to be one of them, along with vinicius, brahim and eduardo. naturally, you invited them backstage because you were a fan of the well-known football team. jude couldn't take his eyes off of you. memorized by the way you performed on stage. the confidence that flowed from you with every word you sang.

it's been a year since you first met. being boyfriend and girlfriend hasn't always been easy, because of the fact that you guys have to do long distance but you made it work.

"baby!" you yelled across the house, rushing to find jude. you found him sitting on the bed, watching tv. he looks up towards the door when you came running in.

"what's going on sunshine?" you jumped on him and hugged him tightly. jude chuckles, while wrapping his arms around you just as tight.

"i was just asked to perform in barcelona! they have a festival going on and want me to perform."

"that's amazing baby. when is it?"

"on the fourteenth." jude's eyebrows furrowed.

"on valentines day?"

"yeah."

"i have a match that day. you said you would come." he slowly removing his arms from around your waist. you tilt your head in confusion and sit up in his lap.

"i didn't think it would be a problem. i'm at almost all of your matches."

"why didn't you ask?"

"why do i have to? this is huge for my career for them to even want me there."

jude taps your leg gently, making you get out of his lap. in a way, you felt hurt. this was suppose to be a happy moment for you and your boyfriend wasn't being as supportive.

"well congratulations i guess," he grabs his phone and walks out. you sit there dumbfounded at his behavior. you would've never treated him like that. why couldn't he be supportive of this great opportunity?

-

the days leading up to the date were quiet. it was like a switch flipped off in jude. you guys went from spending pretty much every waking moment together to not even having a conversation that lasted more than five minutes. feeling like strangers rather than boyfriend and girlfriend.

you woke up before jude, knowing he had to leave early and decided to cook him breakfast for valentine's day as a surprise. cooking everything you knew he liked and plated it nicely. you almost couldn't contain the smile that was forming on your face. awkward phase or not, jude was the love of your life and that wasn't going to change.

"good morning baby! happy valentine's day," you walked in the room, finding him siting up against the headboard. you handed him one of the plates and sat across from him on the bed.

"happy valentine's day m'love. thank you for breakfast," jude leans forward and places kisses to your cheek and lips.

"i wanted to do something special for you. oh, plus, i have another surprise for you after my set." the boy's mood was quick to turn sour once again.

"I have my match, remember? oh yeah, you don't care enough to remember."

"jude," you sighed and placed your plate in your lap. "your match is at 10 am and then my set is at 6 pm."

"why can't you come to the match then?"

"they want me there early. i'm sorry babe."

"yeah whatever," he goes to eating the rest of his breakfast in silence.

"please don't spend the rest of our morning like this." you were met with silence, leaving you no choice but to wallow in it. "can you come to my set?" you quietly asked, hoping the answer would be yes even though he's upset. you guys were each others good luck charm.

"we'll see."

"jude, please don't be like that."

"i said, i'll see if i can make it. i don't know what you want me to say," he gets out of bed and makes his way to the kitchen. leaving you behind with a ache in your chest.

"i just wanted you to say that you'll be there," mumbling to yourself, you get up and follow him to the kitchen. jude stood over the sink washing the dishes that was left from you cooking. you slide your plate and fork in the sink, wrapping your arms around his waist after.

"if you can't make it, i understand. just please come to the hotel that my team has me in. i really do have a surprise for you."

"okay." you placed a kiss to his shoulder blade and unwrapped yourself from him, giving him space.

-

you were buzzing for the rest of the day. excited that your boyfriend's team won the match and this was your first time performing in barcelona. you texted jude, congratulating him on the win. as you were getting dressed, you were hoping that jude would be there in the crowd. especially since madrid was only a six hour drive away from barcelona.

"you ready rockstar?" you excitedly nodded at your manger kate. she gave you a high five and patted your back. you gave her one last smile, before letting the stage production guide you to the stage.

"hello barcelona! thank you, thank you, thank you for inviting me to play," the screams from the crowd making your heart warm. "i'm so excited to play for you all. let's get started, yeah?"

jude watched as you danced around the stage. it reminded him of the first time you guys met. he always loved seeing you in your element. absolutely letting go and just being yourself, while you sang. the boy started to feel guilty about not being happy for you when you first told him the news. he was being petty and reminded himself to apologize when he sees you backstage.

"i love you guys so much. thank you for being here and inviting me! goodnight barcelona," you blew a kiss and waved, as you walked off the stage.

there jude stood with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. you jumped into his arms, pulling him down into a tight hug. he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist.

"you did so good baby. i'm unbelievably proud of you."

"i can't believe you made it."

"i was dick but i could never miss this moment. love seeing you on stage," jude places kisses all over of your face, causing you to giggle uncontrollably. you pushed his head away and smiled.

"i still have a surprise for you! we should get going."

"after you m'lady," jude dramatically bows as you lead the way. you were excited to finally have a conversation that lasted more than five minutes. going back to the way you guys were before.

-

"okay, so i worked really hard on this. i wanted to do this as a 'i'm sorry for missing your match'. i really hope you like-" you were cut off by jude's phone ringing. he took the phone out of his pocket and answered it immediately.

"nah, I'm not busy at all," your brows furrowed hearing him say that. it felt like a punch to your gut. as if you weren't showing him the surprise you had been planing for weeks. it takes a couple minutes before he gets off the phone.

"i'm sorry babe, i have to go."

"what?"

"the team wanted to go out to celebrate the win. i'll be back before midnight. i love you," jude kissed your lips and then moved to place one to your forehead as well. he was already walking away before you could get another word in. sighing to yourself, you walked into your hotel room.

you had the room decorated with balloons and rose petals everywhere. figuring that because it was valentine's day, he deserved something nice. instead, you were in the room alone. hoping that he'll be back before midnight like he promised.

-

he wasn't there. didn't answer a text message nor any of your calls. you waited, watching the time go by quickly. this was enough to make you question your relationship. jude was usually really good with his promises. did he do this on purpose because you missed the match?

"happy valentine's day jude," you whisper to yourself, drinking from the bottle of champagne you bought for your shared time together.

you silently cried to yourself as you watched the clock hit one o'clock in the morning. you felt so alone and unwanted. jude would rather spend time with his teammates than his own girlfriend. maybe the long distance wasn't working for him anymore. maybe he was still being petty. all you knew was that you were hurt. even crying didn't ease the pain that lingered in your chest.

[chrissv4mp]

౨ 'cus i've never really felt okay ৎ

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yeah, i hate my writing right now cus wtf is this💔

★ the loud sounds of rain hitting your windows filled the quiet, lonely space of your bedroom. you lay tiredly on the freshly washed sheets, eyes staring at the plain white color of the ceiling. your thoughts were somehow louder than the pouring rain outside, shutting out every other thing around you as you got lost in them.

2:30 a.m., and you were still wide awake, all of the lights in the empty house still shining brightly on every inch of the place. you were too tired to get up and turn them off. you were too tired to do anything, actually. many of your friends tried to reach out, but you never responded. something just felt off recently, and you couldn't figure it out. nothing had happened. nobody had done anything to you that would've made you feel like this. so why?

you had nobody to turn to anymore. or that's what it felt like, at least. you thought that if you reached out to anybody, they would just say you're being dramatic. but that wasn't true. none of your friends would react like that, so why did you feel like they would, "y/n?" the front door closed with a gentle thud, and you quickly sat up from your previous position as you turned your head towards your bedroom door, "you're car's in the driveway, so i'm just gonna guess that you're home."

"in here," you called out, and chris felt relief wash over him at the sound of your voice. you didn't even know when he got so close, his arms wrapping your body as you hugged you tightly. his chin rested on your shoulder, turning it slightly to kiss your neck affectionately, "hey, we missed you at taras party," he muttered, pulling back to take a seat next to you. his eyes scanned your face, noticing your saddened expression.

"i wasn't trying to come off as—" chris gasps as he feels you suddenly jump at him, arms wrapping around his torso as you bury your head into the crook of his neck. you both fall backward, hitting the mattress softly as you take in each other's presence, "okay, that's okay. let's just—yeah, let's lay here, that's fine." he whispers, his hands coming to wrap around your body comfortably in an effort to soothe your tensed state. as you breathe in his scent, you instantly relax, eyes closing shut as you lay against his chest.

your quiet sobs fill the room, and chris feels the sadness hit him hard. his head moves to rest atop of yours, pressing gentle kisses to your head as you hold him closer, "it's okay. let it out, i'm here now, baby," he whispers, eyelids fluttering shut as he feels tears begin to prick in his eyes. he hated seeing you like this, so tired of everything you couldn't even speak out about it, "i'm always gonna be here for ya."

[dlwritings]

November 6, 2024 | Rafe Cameron

masterlist found here

pairing - Rafe x reader word count - 1,827 warnings - political talk, anti-T*ump rhetoric A/N - Who would've thought the shit show state of our world would inspire me to write again. I know for a lot of us everything feels really broken right now, and I know it may seem silly to some, but for me, writing feels like healing, even if it's just something like this. So here you all are. Rafe probably votes red, but here's a world where he doesn't. Also, if you're a T*umper, go ahead and unfollow me. I can't have any of that in my life. I'm so serious.

summary - The results of the 2024 election hit you pretty hard, and you end up taking your rage out on Rafe. Turns out, Rafe's hopes for the future looked a lot like yours.

You and Rafe didn’t talk about politics. You knew better than to broach the topic with him, because you weren’t naive. One glance at him and anyone could guess how he voted.

But that didn’t mean you had to like it.

The two of you had been dating for about six months, and for the most part, it was smooth sailing. It was gossip fuel for most people on the island for a few weeks -you being a pogue and Rafe being … who he was- but like most drama in Kildaire, it didn’t stay at the forefront of people’s minds for long before another thing came and stole back everyone’s attention.

And the thing on everyone’s mind right now was the election. The election that had you donned in blue on your way to the polls, a huge smile on your face as you filled in the bubble that would make history. Hope filled you in a way you were sure it never had before.

Until the next day.

Waking up and opening social media to see the results had already come in was enough to break your spirit completely. How could this have happened? How could the country have failed so many people?

Then again, how had you been so naive to believe in the possibility of any other outcome?

You shut yourself off from the world for most of the day. You went to work and gave polite smiles and nods to your coworkers as needed, but you did your best to spend the majority of your time locked in your office, alone. You didn’t dare to open social media, knowing every MAGA post from the bigots of the Figure 8 would bring tears to your eyes.

It wasn’t until you were at home on your couch that you decided to brave Instagram. Before scrolling through your feed, you added a black screen with a simple blue heart to your story and wrote the words, When we fight, we win.

You thought it was harmless. A simple story that showed your feelings without being overly dramatic. The last thing you wanted to do was act irrational by doing something crazy like storming the capitol. Because that would just be insane.

Unfortunately, the people who followed you saw it as anything but harmless. They saw it as an opening to send you the most heinous, revolting messages you had ever read. Your notifications blew up within minutes, and some of them were so borderline terrifying that you locked your phone and threw it across the room, once again leaving you in a puddle of tears.

You heard your front door open, and you cursed to yourself. In all the chaos of the news, it escaped your mind that it was Wednesday, and Rafe always brought pizza to your apartment on Wednesdays. You had once mentioned in passing that you liked a pick-me-up halfway through a week, and Rafe took it upon himself to provide you with that. Normally, it was one of your favorite parts of the week. Today, Rafe was one of the last people you wanted to see.

“Babe!” he called out upon his entrance. “I got your favorite!”

You met him in the kitchen, and by one look at your face, Rafe’s own expression dropped. “What’s going on?”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat. “I think you should go.”

“What?” he said, dropping the pizza on the counter and walking over to you. With each step he took toward you, you took one step back. He stopped quickly, a frown painted on his face. “What’s wrong, baby?”

The words made something snap inside you, and your fists clenched at your sides. “What’s wrong?” you repeated. “What’s wrong? How about fucking everything, Rafe! Everything’s wrong, and you not seeing that is part of the problem! You are part of the problem!”

Rafe was, in a word, flabbergasted. He ran through the past 24 hours, trying to think of something he had done wrong, but he was coming up short. “Okay, I’m-” He let out an exasperated laugh. “I’m trying to understand, but you’ve got to give me something more here. What did I do?”

“You-” You let out a huff of a breath and ended up speaking through gritted teeth. “You and your stupid fucking MAGA Kook friends voted for a convicted felon to run our country! You voted for a man who wants to throw away my rights. You voted for a man who has raped a multitude of women and brags about it!”

Rafe’s eyes were wide as he held his hands up and shook his head. “Hang on-”

“No, Rafe!” you shouted, pushing him back as he tried to get closer to you again. “For the entire time we’ve dated, I’ve danced around the talk of politics, because I knew better. I knew a rich ass white guy from the south would vote for another rich ass white guy to run our country, but I guess I naively thought it wouldn’t matter. That the poor guys would get a win for fucking once this time. For once I thought the good guys would win and that a white man would have to face the consequences of his actions. But you-” You laughed bitterly. “You of all people know that privileged ass white men never ever have to face the consequences of their actions.”

You were hitting him where it hurt, and you knew it, but you were hurt. You and every woman like you had been holding in years of pain and hurt, and for you and many others, today was the day it was all going to come out.

“Baby, if you just let me-”

“Let you?” you laughed incredulously. “You and your fellow MAGA guys have clearly shown me I don’t have to let you do anything anymore.”

“What does that mean?” he asked.

You fished your phone out of your pocket, unlocked it, and shoved it in his face to show him all of the nasty messages you were receiving. Things like, “Your body, my choice,” “whomp whomp go make me a sandwich,” and “Guess what? Men win again” had flooded your DMs, and while you didn’t know it, Rafe was clocking every username and making a very specific list in his head.

“So maybe you can understand why I’m angry, Rafe,” you said, taking the phone back out of his hand and putting it in your pocket again. “I thought I could cancel out your vote, but I guess I forgot that meant you could cancel mine.”

“Ba-”

“I want you to leave, Rafe.”

“But I didn’t-”

“Fucking, go, Rafe!” you shouted. “Let me be angry and let me be alone!”

With a clenched jaw, Rafe gave a short nod. “Okay,” he whispered. “Fine.” It looked like he wanted to say more, but he refrained, instead turning around and heading out the door, leaving you in a mess of tears.

The next day, you called off from work. Maybe it was dramatic, but you didn’t care. You knew if one person even looked at you in a way you didn’t like, you’d lose any composure you had, and you couldn’t afford to lose your job for yelling at your boss.

You had the full intention to stay in bed all day, but the relentless knock at your door around 10AM proved that to be impossible. You felt some sense of relief, knowing it at least wouldn’t be another political petitioner.

Instead, perhaps just as unfortunately, it was Rafe.

You let out a heavy sigh. “What do you want, Rafe?”

He held out his hand which had a coffee cup in it from your favorite shop. “I went to your work, but your boss said you were sick,” he said. “I bought you coffee.” You took it, but didn’t say anything -just looked at him with raised eyebrows, as if to say, Anything else? “Can we please talk?” he said.

“I don’t know what there is to say, Rafe,” you sighed. Still, you stepped aside and let him in, not wanting your neighbors to bear witness to whatever argument was about to ensue. “I know we’re different -I’ve always known that- but I don’t think I can handle being this kind of different anymore.” You plopped yourself onto the sofa, expecting Rafe to sit next to you. Instead, he crouched in front of you so he was just slightly looking up at you.

“Baby, I didn’t vote for him.”

Your lips parted slightly in shock, and you felt tears instantly pool in your eyes.

“What?” you whispered.

“Yeah, of course I didn’t vote for him,” he said. He reached up to turn around the hat he was wearing backwards to reveal a Harris-Walz cap, and you let out a noise that was a mix of a gasp and a little laugh. “I know I’ve fucked up before baby,” he said. “And in other elections, yeah, I usually vote red. But this-” He shook his head and squeezed your knees. “This is different. And I know that. And I’d be an absolute moron to think that tax cuts for me are more important than basic rights for you.”

You moved to kneel on the floor next to him and held his face in your hands before leaning forward to place a soft kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, you kept your forehead against his. “I was so mean to you yesterday,” you whispered. “I didn’t-”

“It wasn’t anything I didn’t deserve,” he said. “I know that I am living in a world that was pretty much tailor made for me. And I know I should be in fucking prison for all the shit I’ve done, and so should he. And I know that none of what I’m saying right now changes the bullshit I’ve done, but I figured I should at least use all this fucking privilege I have and try to help people who don’t have it. Because you-” He paused to press a kiss to your lips. “-have taught me so much about being a good person. And I’m not going to vote against that.”

“I wasn’t a good person yesterday,” you mumbled.

“You were reacting to an unfortunately historic event,” he said. “You had every right to lose it. And you can keep losing it, and I will be by your side for every minute of it, okay?”

You nodded and gave him a soft smile. “Okay.”

He smiled back and nodded. “Okay.”

You and Rafe decided to spend the rest of the day together, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting in the quiet. When you suggested putting on a movie, Rafe agreed. He let you choose, no complaints, and watched as you searched for the Barbie movie. You cried at all the usual parts, sometimes a bit harder than normal, but Rafe understood.

It is literally impossible to be a woman.

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

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[rhys-writes-some-shit]

"Sing to Me?"

Alastor x Reader (QP)

Yawning, you trudged out of the bathroom, drying your hair loosely with a towel. You were warm from your shower and the filling meal you'd had a little while earlier. Alastor was probably the best chef you knew, a fact you were extremely proud of. Even if your preferred form of protein was banned from the hotel premises, Alastor was always able to make do with what he had.

Despite it being late at night, you grabbed your laptop (a very rare, not VoxTech one) to work on some paperwork. You'd promised your boss to get these spreadsheets done, and you weren't one to shirk on your promises. Yawning again, you tuned your old-fashioned radio before settling down with your laptop. The radio had been a gift from Alastor. Many late nights had been spent listening to his broadcasts. They'd always been a comfort, even before you'd signed a contract with him.

Some light jazz filtered through the static, one of your favorite songs. Alastor knew you were listening. Smiling lightly, you started typing away.

The music was occasionally interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream or a sharp whimper. Your smile never left, humming along while Alastor had his fun. Part of you was vaguely aware that the radio show was now being broadcast all throughout Hell, that you didn't even need the radio, but you liked it, so it stayed on.

The spreadsheets were simple enough. With the radio in the background, you were able to focus just enough that the job came naturally. In the back of your mind, you started going over the next day’s schedule.

You'd ended up zoning out while you typed, not even noticing how the radio switched to static and then turned off by itself.

A single knock preceded Alastor's entrance, enough to break you from your thoughts. You were quick to notice the faint blood splatter on the sole of Alastor’s shoes, the only evidence of his previous activities.

“My dear, you know how I abhor those vile machines,” Alastor reprimanded, walking and starting to subconsciously organize your room. A chair was pushed in, a painting adjusted so it was even, the bottom drawer of your dresser lightly closed.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grinned to yourself. “I need it to do my job, Al. Besides, do you have any idea how hard it is to find a piece of electronic equipment that's not created by VoxTech?”

“All the more reason to get rid of it.” Alastor walked over to the window and stared out at it. He was a little lost in thought himself, it would seem.

Typing a line, you said, “I liked your broadcast.”

“I'm glad.”

He was quiet. Something was wrong. Your grin died down, pushing your laptop to the side. Alastor’s smile was still there, but dimmer. Sadder.

“Al? You okay?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with, dearest,” Alastor replied, a slight edge in his voice.

You wanted to push. To get him to talk to you. But you knew it wouldn't be worth it. If anything, he'd just get upset or shut down more.

“You know, sometimes I wonder what would've happened if we'd met while we were alive,” You said nonchalantly. “I mean, obviously that would've been impossible in the first place, considering I wasn't even born when you died, but I just wonder about it.”

“What a ridiculous thing to wonder about!” Alastor laughed a little. “As you said, it would have been impossible. And why think about being alive when we have all of death to enjoy?” His tone lightened a bit. “There is so much entertainment to be had! Life was quite dull, comparably.”

You wondered for a moment, trying to figure out where to lead the conversation. “Where did you live, when you were alive? You already know where I lived when I was alive, it's only fair I know where you lived.”

Alastor’s grin softened a bit, still sad, but with a hint of happiness in there. Nostalgia, if you had to guess. “New Orleans, Louisiana. I lived there with my mother. I had a delightful job as a radio host.”

“You're still a radio host,” you teased playfully. “What was it like, back then?”

“Ah, it was… entertaining.” He didn't say anything more, lost in thought as he leaned on his cane. You were vaguely aware that you were the only person who ever saw him like this. Alastor wore his smile like armor, guarding himself with a nonchalant facade, but very rarely, behind closed doors, the guard would fall, just for a little while.

Just as you were about to open your mouth to ask another question, Alastor spoke, “You seem quite tired, my dear. Maybe it is time we part ways for the evening.”

Pressing your lips together, you knew he was right. You really should be getting to bed, but you were worried about Alastor. You hadn't seen him like this before, so it was impossible to guess what he'd do once he was alone.

“You really should learn to hide your emotions better.” Alastor turned suddenly, chucking to himself. “There is nothing to worry about, darling. I am perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, you say that, but for some reason I don't believe you.” Stifling a yawn, you gave Alastor a look.

“Now, now, don't be like that.” Alastor came and sat on the edge of the bed, using his magic to set the laptop on top of the dresser. “What can I do to convince you to sleep?”

Leaning back, you thought for a moment. When the idea hit you, your face flushed with embarrassment for a moment, but you swallowed the anxiety. He did ask, after all.

“Sing to me?”

Alastor laughed, causing you to glare. “Again with the ridiculous ideas!” When your face fell subconsciously, Alastor hesitated.

When he didn't say anything, you accepted the fact that it was a ridiculous request. Assuming he'd leave the room on his own accord, you used your magic to turn out the lights as you slid under the covers of your bed. You never did get all those spreadsheets done like you'd wanted.

“Parlez-moi d’amour.”

Alastor’s slightly-static-filled voice was quiet. His eyes faintly glowed in the dark and you watched him with wide eyes.

“Redites-moi des choses tendres.”

Smiling softly, you sank into the bed, closing your eyes and allowing Alastor’s comforting voice to wash over you.

“Votre beau discours /

“Mon cœur n'est pas las de l'entendre /

“Pourvu que toujours /

“Vous répétiez ces mots suprêmes /

“Je vous aime.”

((The song))

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Pressure reader finding a gun and now can and will defend themself from monster or execute other people for doing something dumb

I'm sorry but I saw this and decided to run with how finding a gun might actually go for a Prisoner!Reader /lh

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

"Wow...guess somebody forgot to pick this up. Or maybe Sebastian got tired of me dying to those monsters all the time.."

Staring down at the weapon that was just laying on the floor, you looked around to see if any cameras were currently watching you. Of course, there was a singular one with a red light in the corner above the next door, aimed directly at your position.

They were always watching.

From the comfort and safety of their headquarters, they watched you get maimed by the creatures here over and over again. Whether it's a Wall Dweller sneaking up on you or Pandemonium ramming into the locker you're hiding in nonstop....they've seen it all.

So at this point, you didn't care that they could see your clear interest in the object on the ground.

One you were forbidden to take.

But to hell with them and their rules.

After all you've suffered through down here, you deserved to have some kind of self-defense tool that wasn't just a light source you had to conserve.

Why shouldn't you be allowed to protect yourself? They were going to kill all the creatures who escaped containment, anyways, so if you could kill them now, why not?

Unfortunately, HQ begged to differ, as the moment you crouched down to pick up the pistol, a familiar voice came onto the intercom:

"Do not touch the weapon. Leave it alone and it will be collected by authorized personnel later."

"...figures." You glared at the camera, standing up. "Why don't you tell your "authorized personnel" to put down those sea monsters instead?! I think I'm allowed to defend myself if-"

*pop*

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Back here again, are we?"

"Yeah..I guess.." Grumbling, you rubbed your neck as you looked up at the familiar trio of glowing blue eyes and angler lure. Even now, you still had a killer headache from the PDG detonation.

Then again, that was your own fault.

You didn't need to read the same document twice.

"I don't recommend defying them again. At least..not until you find a way to scramble their connection." Sebastian advised, sighing as he shook his head. "You gotta remember you have no rights down here. Neither of us do. It sucks but, we gotta deal with it."

"The IDS has gone haywire..but they're worried about me shooting through a glass window.." You huffed. "What if it wasn't even loaded?"

"Well I'm not sure if you know this, but prisoners and guns don't exactly go together. Just use what you've learned in the past to avoid the threats. It doesn't matter to them how "badly" you think you needed a firearm. You'll never get your hands on one, and I'm certainly not gonna sell any to you. Period."

"....I guess that pistol would've been useless if it didn't any rounds..."

"Anyway, here's what your overseer had to say on the matter. It's..kinda funny." Sebastian showed you another file, documenting your time and cause of death, along with a comment.

"The EXR-P stumbled across a small firearm that was left behind during the lockdown and defied direct orders to drop it, thinking they were an exception to the rule. This cannot happen again."

"Okay, that's bullshit. They're making it sound like I was an entitled asshole." You pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I can see why. Backtalking them is funny and all until your head pops. If you want them to take you seriously, you'll have to reach that crystal."

"Fine. I'll be a good little expendable and just focus on that." Putting a ferryman token on the table, you looked up at Sebastian. "Tell the guy downstairs I wanna continue where I was."

"Alright. Better not waste it." He swiped the coin, fading back into the darkness.

In the blink of an eye, you returned to the Blacksite, in the same room that you died in. It was clear of any blood that was left behind after your PDG went off, and of course..the pistol wasn't anywhere to be found.

It would have been useless anyways.

On the bright side, you did find a blacklight and some batteries in the drawers that you didn't check before, and you realized it's wiser to just use them to protect yourself.

'Okay. Let's just play it safe and keep going.'

[lokidjarin-7567]

Kinktober Day 3 - Aphrodisiacs/Sex Pollen

Billy Butcher x you Contents: pwp, fem!reader x Billy Butcher (The Boys), 18+ MDNI, there's only one bed (!!) W/C: 2.2k So I've read a lot of sex pollen fics, normally Mando ones actually, and then this idea got stuck in my head so yeah, here it is! It's a little longer but my next two are a lot shorter, so this is to make up for it. Anyway, hope someone out there is as obsessed with Billy Butcher as I am! Kinktober Masterlist | General Masterlist | AO3

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…” You could’ve shouted at the receptionist, hands balling by your sides.

“Sorry, just the one room left tonight.”

“We’ll take it.” Billy replied, shit eating grin spreading across his face.

“You can’t be serious…”

“How much do I owe you, darling?”

He ignored your complaints the whole way to the room as well, your bag slung over his shoulder. He unlocked the door, swinging it open and laughed heartily.

“What?” You pushed him aside, to see… one bed. For fucks sake.

“No getting away from me now, sweetheart…”

You’d just gotten out of the shower when you heard a deathly silence come over the room next to you. That was unlike him. He’d had the TV blasting since you’d been in the bathroom, and now it was silent. Something wasn’t right.

You wrapped your towel around yourself and peeked your head around the door. He was standing, his leather coat abandoned on the bed, head cocked as he looked towards the window. He turned his head when he heard you, pressing a finger to his lips and creeping closer. It was cracked open, a soft evening breeze causing the curtains to billow, but you couldn't hear anything else. You opened your mouth, about to ask him what was going on when a figure moved into frame.

“Fuck, cover your mouth!” Billy shouted, backing away, but it was too late. The figure raised their lips to the window, and a baby pink smoke filled the room before you could even react to it. It left you coughing, doubled over as you waited for it to clear. When it finally did, your head was hazy, as though you had literally put on rose tinted glasses and smoked a joint. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but it meant that it took longer than you normally would've to figure out what just happened.

“Cupid…” you muttered, cursing lightly under your breath and moving to close the window. She was the Supe you had been tracking for the last few days, with the ability to produce a powerful aphrodisiac that was nearly incapacitating to whoever it affected. Not exactly the best superpower, although it felt pretty fucking awful right about now. Billy had perched on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. “But why would she…”

“To distract us, to throw us off…”

“That makes no sense, we’ve already stopped for the night.”

“Didn’t you do your research, darling? It can last a full day, even two.”

“Fuck!” You were pacing now, trying to ignore the fog that was lowering over your mind. “Well, lets go after her! She can’t have gotten far.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not in any way to drive. Plus, you’re only in a towel.” You looked down, a blush spreading across your cheeks.

“Ok… ok I guess we just have to ride it out and hope it doesn't last too long… what?” You had looked up to see him gazing at you, pupils dilated, a dark expression on his face. His eyes were tracing your body, and you hadn’t realised until that point how short the towel actually was, your legs on display for him, droplets of water from the shower still clinging to you. “Billy!”

“Fucking hell, love, I’m sorry, but we just got blasted with some kind of sex potion so you can forgive me…”

“Just… go and have a shower or something. Maybe a wank, clear your head.”

“Sure thing, boss. Wanna watch?”

“Fuck right off.”

He had been in the shower for a while now, and you were starting to struggle. When you had agreed to go with him on this Supe hunt, you never thought this was the situation you would end up in - trapped in a hotel room, only one bed, with Billy Butcher, after a maniac just filled the room with a potent aphrodisiac. And you were really starting to feel it. Every single nerve ending in your body felt like live wires, and you were so turned on it was painful, squirming on the bed as your core physically ached with lack of attention. You had managed to get changed into a t-shirt and shorts, but you still felt too warm. You were halfway through tying up your hair to try and help cool down when Billy emerged from the shower, towel around his waist. Sweet Jesus that wasn't going to help. He was ripped, his arms and chest looked almost chiseled from stone, save for the light smattering of hair over his torso, following down his stomach into a happy tail that lead under the towel. You could almost feel your mouth watering as you noticed a tent in the think fabric. He was hard, and from the way he winced when he moved, painfully so.

“Did it help at all?” You asked feebly, trying to ignore the hardening of your nipples as you watched him move.

“No.” He answered sternly, sitting down with his back to you. You couldn’t help but gaze at it. His wide shoulders, the way his shoulder blades rippled with his shuddering breaths, what it would look like when you were done with him, red welts and scratches after he fucked you into the mattress…

Nope, no. Can't go there. He's a colleague - even if only technically. Work would be unbearable.

Although, this was pretty unbearable too.

He’d said something.

“Hm?” You asked, not noticing the way he was looking at you over his shoulder until your eyes had traced his entire back. You blushed.

“I need to change…”

“Oh shit, sorry.” You headed to the bathroom quickly, closing the door behind you and collapsing to the floor. Fuck this was a mess. A horrible, terrible mess. Maybe it would help if you just… just a little bit…

Your hand found its way below your waistband, and as soon as your fingertips brushed over the sensitive bundle of nerves there, your entire body relaxed, an audible moan escaping your mouth. Shit. Hopefully he didn't hear that. You carried on quietly, biting your lip to try and stay quiet, but it was hard, the relief flowing through you unlike anything you’d ever experienced. And then you heard something from the other room. A soft grunt, and then another. And fucking hell it was a beautiful noise, almost pained but so relieved, perfectly echoing how you felt at that moment. God, he was awful and frustrating and horrible to work with but his voice was so sexy, and the noises he was making now were no different.

You couldn't deny it was helping you along, and you couldn't tell if you were imagining it or not, but every time a whimper escaped you, he groaned just a little louder. You reached your peak quickly, your entire body crumpling as it overtook you, a last moan falling from your lips as you caught your breath on the bathroom floor. You stood up to wash your hands and face, legs shaking, only to realise… it had barely done anything. The ache was back almost instantly, nipples hardening again at the thought of Billy in the next room, and you cursed into the icy cold water.

He had been quiet for a little while now, so you knocked cautiously.

“Yeah, I’m decent, doll.” The new pet name sent another wave of arousal to your centre, and you cursed internally with it. Every word he said feel like he was physically touching you, but not quite enough. It was driving you insane.

“How the fuck do we make this stop?” You gasped out, frustration clouding your mind as you flopped onto the end of the bed, laying down with your hands over your eyes. Maybe if you just didn't look at him…

“Well, I can think of one way…”

“Billy…” you muttered warningly, but you couldn't bring yourself to say more than that, just letting your hands drop from your face to see his dark expression looking you up and down.

“Do you really wanna stay like this for the next day…”

“We might still be like this… after.”

“We don't know until we try.” Fuck, you hated how much sense he was making in your sex-addled brain. “You can't say you haven't thought about it…” You opened your mouth to snap back that you hadn’t, that he repulsed you… but you couldn't get the words out. The truth was, you had thought about it. A lot. He might be a pain in your ass, but he was undeniably attractive. The smirk. The confidence. Those stupid fucking Hawaiian shirts that showed off his biceps in just the right way…

“Please I… look, it's killing me here love…” he sounded breathy, strained. Needy. Hearing him beg was almost enough to send you over the edge.

Fuck it.

You sat up before you had a chance to change your mind, grabbing him by the neck and pulling his lips to yours. He practically growled into your mouth, reciprocating with a ferocity you hadn't expected. His hands were instantly all over you, grabbing your hips and pulling you onto his lap, his strength making you gasp sharply. His teeth found your bottom lips, biting and pulling as he forced your hips down into his, grinding into you in a way that felt so fucking perfect. You needed him closer. Your shaking hands reached for the hem of his tee, pulling it over his head and pushing him to the bed, lips marking a path down his chest.

“Fucking hell, love, get those clothes off.” You obliged quickly, standing to rip off your tee, then shorts and panties as he removed his own bottoms, letting his cock spring free. He was big. Really fucking big. You needed him inside you now. Needed…

He was a step ahead of you, grabbing your arm and pulling you face first to the bed. He set himself up behind you, pulling your hips into the air and his hand found its way to your hair, pressing your face into the mattress. And then you felt two fingers dip inside your wet core. The sound that you made was filthy and animalistic, pressing your hips back into his hand as he chuckled, desperate for more of him.

“God you’re needy like this aren't you?” He pulled his fingers out of you, leaving you whining, and you heard him pump his length a few times with your slick. And then he was there, his size pressing against you, and you had no time to adjust as he rolled his hips into you. You couldn't breathe as he split you open, full to the hilt, hands scrabbling across the bedspread trying to find purchase on something.

“Fucking hell…” he grumbling, hand smacking your ass hard. You yelped, and he laughed again. “I can feel your pretty cunt fluttering around me when I do that.”

“Fuck… you…” You managed to choke out between laboured breaths.

“As you wish, doll.” He started to drag himself out of you, so painfully slowly you were squirming, but he just pressed your face further into the bed. And then he started to just fuck into you. It was debilitating, every single nerve in your body on fire. His pace was merciless, hard and fast and blinding, hitting a spot inside of you that turned your body to jelly. His hand on your hip was the only thing keeping you upright, squeezing in a way that was sure to bruise. And then his hand left your head, and you gasped in air, only to realise it was snaking around to your clit. The instant his fingertips found your sensitive mound, your world went black, and you were coming hard around his cock.

“Fuckk, there we go, sweetheart. Good girl, let it all out...”

By the time you could see again, it didn't take you long to start winding up for another orgasm. Your body had completely crumpled, pressed to the bed apart from the arm he had around your hips, keeping him in the perfect position to keep hitting that sweet spot with every thrust.

“Goddd, Billy…” you cried out, sound after filthy sound filling the room as he continued to rut into you, his breaths becoming shorter and his curses becoming less coherent. “Please.. that's it… inside me please…” Your fucked-out babbling seemed to help bring him to the edge, and he pressed his hips into yours as he came, his teeth clamping onto your shoulder enough to help you reach another pinnacle.

You could barely breathe when you were done, his entire body weight pressed to your back, his lips pressing sloppy kisses to the back of your neck. He was still inside you, and it wasn’t until you tried to move that you noticed…

“Billy?”

“Yes, love?”

“You’re still hard.” There was a beat where he stopped kissing you shifting his hips just slightly with a groan, then he sighed.

“I guess its gonna be a long night, doll.”

[wosoamazing]

Gone

Summary: Based on this request.

Warnings: Mentions of Death

A/N: This is shorter than I would've liked, and I don't know it I really hit the mark with it. But hopefully you all like it, I also don't know why I had such troubles getting it finished but I did, also thank you to the wonderful anon who helped me with ideas. :)

You were sitting in the locker room when your phone rang, it was your Mum, she never called, she hates you, it must be an accident, you let it go to voicemail, however she rang again.

“Sorry it's my Mum, I should take it,” Alexia nodded but you knew deep down she would be confused.

_

“I’ve got some good news,” she cackled, “Well I guess you won’t think it's good news, your father is dead, he was hit by a car.” She hung up. Your dad was your number one supporter, he gave up so much for you, you really didn’t want to go to Barça and leave him but you did, you spoke to him every night, just last night he was discussing your game today with you.

“Everything okay,” Alexia asked as you walked back in. Alexia found out about your situation one night and took you under her wing, she became like a mother figure to you, so you knew it would be a struggle to hide this from her.

“Yep,” you said, putting up a strong fake front, hoping she believed it.

“Okay,” she replied with a weak smile, you just hoped she had believed you.

This match was for your Dad, you were going to play for him.

In the 80th minute of the game you took a corner, and for the third time that match you had managed to hit the back of the net, you had just made a hat-trick, as you run to your team to celebrate you kiss your hand and put it to your heart whilst pointing to the sky, a celebration that wouldn’t have been understood by a single person in that stadium. 

When the whistle blew, you felt a weight drop on you, as a single tear rolled down your cheek, you immediately panicked, you couldn’t break, you couldn’t break here, in front of thousands of people and your team. So you ran, you sprinted down the tunnel and into the locker room, quickly grabbing your bag before heading straight to your car, the press wasn't there yet thankfully. You ignored Alexia’s cries of your name as she followed after you trying to get you to stop, but you didn't. You jumped into your car and drove off, you could see defeated Alexia in your rearview mirror, as she dragged her feet walking back into the stadium.

_____

You were sitting on your couch, just staring blankly at a spot on your wall, you felt nothing, no emotions, you were just sitting there and starting. Until your ‘peace’ was disturbed by a pounding at the door. You got up and walked towards the door.

You opened the door and saw Alexia standing there, Mapi and Ingrid were behind her.

“Y/N, why did you leave early, you know that is not on, Jonatan is not happy with you, why did you go? You better have a very good excuse.” She yelled at you, you didn’t reply, just stood there giving her your blank stare.

“Bebita?” she says furrowing her brow, growing slightly concerned. You felt hot tears start to prick in your eyes, you felt your throat tighten at the emotion. You opened your mouth trying to say something, anything, but all that left was a choked sob, your knees buckled under you as you collapsed onto the floor, Alexia quickly responded by scooping you up, and sitting on the couch, placing you in her lap. You curled into a ball, trying to hide away from the world.

Alexia held you tightly, rocking slightly as she whispered reassuring words into your ear, sobs wracked your body as the reality of what had happened started to sink deeper in, breaking your heart more with every minute, your body was shaking, your breath was shallow and rapid, soon you felt dizzy.

“Y/N/N, can you take some deep breaths? Follow my lead.” You took a few deep breaths with Alexia.

“What’s wrong?” Alexia asked you, voice laced with concern.

“H-he’s, h-he’s d-de-dead.” You managed to stutter out between sobs.

“Oh Bebita, I’m so sorry, is that why she called?” you nodded, “Why didn’t you tell us?” You just shrugged, you didn’t want to respond to her, you didn’t want to admit why, but she knew and you knew she knew, but you still didn't want to actually admit it and say it out loud. With a tender touch Alexia lifted your head, your gaze met hers, you knew she would feel bad about herself for the reason so you continued to stay silent. “Amor, you can tell us anything.”

“I-I I didn’t want to be a burden, and I-I didn’t want to bring anything up for you before the game” you admitted with a quiet voice before letting out a shaky breath.

“Amor, you could never be a burden to us, you are familia, our familia, and never feel like you need to protect me Amor. It’s my job to protect you, and look out for you, even more so now. I promise you, we will never judge you, we all love you. Never not tell us something that is hurting you, por favour.” Her voice was unwavering, you nodded, Mapi and Ingrid came to sit next to you and Alexia.

“We will always care about you, you can tell us anything, any time no matter how big or small.” Ingrid told you and the other two nodded in agreement.

“I’m sorry,” you said with a small sniffle, Alexia didn't say anything, she just placed a kiss on your forehead.

[the-mandawhor1an]

Searching for the stars | Marcus Acacius x f!Reader

Summary: You're about to end your work day as an achaeologist, when a call comes in that will change your life forever. Who would've guessed that the stranger causing havoc on your excavation site in the middle of the night could end up being the very owner of the villa that has long been buried.

Words: 2.7k

Tags: Time travel; Marcus is a little drunk; Mentions of death; Yeah that's it this time around.

Speech in italics indicates that Latin is being spoken.

Notes: At long last, my entry for @burntheedges's Roll a trope challenge! My trope was time travel with Marcus. I know, I know. There's not much and this thing here ended up being soooooo cliffhangery. But I've decided I will revisit these at a later point, so consider this the pilot chapter for a mini-series. I have more plot points open but I want to give them the attention they deserve, and I couldn't do that while also working on my costume project.

Comments etc. are appreciated, thank you to @rivnedell for beta-ing this for me.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Have you ever looked up at the sky and wondered?

Wondered why the stars seem sad? 

They mourn the loss of their dear sisters

Who descended from the sky to sparkle in your eyes. 

I will make sure their departure was never in vain.

You are the light of my life. 

I love you.

It was dead of night, your head in your hands, leaning above an ancient tablet. The words carved into the semitransparent block of wax touched you in a way you never thought possible. A declaration of pure devotion and love, written by a man almost two millennia ago. This deep connection he felt for the woman he addressed these words to must have been unbreakable. A love like this must’ve been nice, you thought to yourself. To be practically worshiped by a man.

You leaned back into the backrest on your chair and rubbed your eyes. The clock over your desk, endlessly ticking, told you it was close to two in the morning, meaning you’d been up for 20 hours. Time to head to bed instead of yearning for men who had been dead for a long time. 

Just as you were about to switch off the light in your office, your cellphone buzzed in your pocket. “Philippe, what the fuck, it’s –” you started when you picked up the call from your coworker, turning silent when you heard the shouting in the background of the call. “Sorry, we need you at the site right now. We have an intruder.” There were several male voices in the background. How were you of any help there? “I don’t understand, can’t the police –” “Just come,” he urged. With a sigh you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Fine, I’ll be down in a minute.” 

It had been a little longer than a minute until you approached the excavation site, hearing the shouting in the distance. The city was relatively quiet compared to the site, out in a field in the outskirts of Rome. Philippe waved you down, two security guards held a stranger, forced onto his knees, both arms in a death grip and his head forced to face the ground. He wore dirty, off-white robes, similar to the tunic a Roman would’ve worn underneath a toga. It didn’t look like a costume, either. “Drunkard, we found him stumbling along the ruins. He’s mumbling and we can’t tell if his accent is just super thick, or –” Just as he wanted to give you more insight, you heard the gravelly deep voice of the stranger. His words were slurred and you were tired, to it took a moment for your brain to register his words. 

“You’re on my land. LEAVE!” With a look of absolute bewilderment, you looked at the man, then to Philippe. “He speaks Latin?” “That or that’s the weirdest dialect I have ever heard. My Latin is rusty, I figured you’d still be up and might be able to help.” 

“This is your land?” You asked and knelt before him. His face was still turned to the ground, his breath was labored. “Yes it is, woman. Tell these men to get their hands off of me. What happened to my villa?” What a warm welcome. Something about his words made you wonder. You knew this villa belonged to a Roman general once. Said general had practically been an obsession of yours, so your heart started beating faster. With a nod you motioned the guard forcing his head down to take the hand away.    

“Woman?” Philippe asked. You turned to him for a second, still on your knees. “He claims to be the owner of this land. Asking us where his house has gone.” “What do you mean? The owner is a farmer.” “I think he’s trying to claim that he is … the general” Philippe roared with laughter, until he realized you meant it. “You actually think that is possible?” 

You turned back to the man. His breathing had calmed, but he was still mumbling to himself, about the gods, and something about the stars. Wait a second, the stars.

You hesitated for a moment, not sure if you should mention something that only the man he claimed to be would know. “Don’t you think the stars look sad tonight? I’ve been told they’re mourning.” His demeanor changed when he heard you refer to the poem you had been over for the past hours. His head turned upward slowly, almost like time was stopping, dark brown eyes finding yours. You recognized the strong facial features, although they were a lot dirtier right now. His gaze was still hostile, his forehead wrinkled, but a hint of confusion hid in his furrowed brows. You continued as you suddenly had his attention “They have lost sisters, haven’d they?” 

He swallowed, parting his lips to say something, but the words failed him. His eyes turned glassy. That might be the confirmation you had expected to see, although it pained you to see a man of his stature seem genuinely pained. He responded, “They mourn the ones that descended to sparkle in your eyes. How do you know that?” “You’ve told me… in a way. I found your scriptures, general,” you replied to him with a soft smile. It was cruel to quote what basically amounted to a declaration of love to his wife, but you figured this was something only he would have known. You looked at the two men still restraining him and asked them to let him go. He landed on his hands, not tearing his eyes from you. He was cautious, yet curious about the woman before him, speaking his language and knowing something only one woman should have known. 

“Where am I?” he asked. It was like the little interaction had sobered him up enough that he was coherent and beginning to understand his situation. If he could even understand, because you sure didn’t. “You’re in Rome. About 1800 years after your time. I’m sorry, this is probably not what you wanted to hear, General Acacius.” You straightened up, standing in front of him, offering a hand to help him up, which he declined. “You’re lying, this must be Elysium. Where is Astra?” He rose to his feet, unstably so, and stumbled into you. Your instincts kicked in and you put both hands on his chest, catching the falling body. “Astra is dead, Marcus,” you said, this time more empathetically and your eyes crossed paths again. He was so close that you could smell the wine in his breath and a hint of rosemary, possibly coming from his dark brown curls. “I know it sounds unbelievable, but please, allow me to prove it.” A strong heart was beating underneath your finger tips, his breathing was steady. Face turned downward, he watched your hands for a second until he locked eyes with you again and nodded. “Fine.” 

Accompanied by a very confused Philippe and security, you make it back to the temporary ‘head quarter’ which consisted of fully furnished, heated cargo containers. The stranger was, for the most part, cooperative but a little confused about his beloved city changing so much. Neither electricity nor any kind of wireless device was familiar to him, but he took the culture shock surprisingly calmly. Maybe he still thought he had passed, after all. 

As soon as the other men had left you after more than a couple of reassurances that you could handle the visitor, said lost soul regained his voice. “Show me the scripture,” he asked you, albeit in a rather demanding tone. “Right here,” you motioned over to your desk, where the tablet sat. He walked over and carefully swiped his fingers over the wooden frame that had saved the tablet from erosion over the years. “Please, be careful,” you urged, panic audible in your voice. Said relic was invaluable and probably one of your favorite discoveries of all. His hand removed from the delicate piece and he sighed deeply. The pain in his voice was palpable. “I wrote that as part of my marriage proposal for Astra. I am surprised it survived if this really is 1800 years old.” “I’m sorry you lost her. And I didn’t want to be so harsh out there, but that was the only way I thought I could verify your claim to be Marcus.” 

Marcus huffed and turned to face you, but something else piqued his interest. Right behind your back, there was a replica of one of the busts that depicted him. One of the first traces to his existence you had found in your career. The replica was made in ceramic, made to look like marble, but a lot less expensive and less delicate. 

He stared at the bust in disbelief. It had his armor on, looked similar to him, but still, what you were telling him didn’t make sense to him. You watched him from the side and were actually impressed how well the sculptor had managed to capture his features. His prominent nose, the strong brows, the serious look on his face. Even the fullness of his hair they had somehow managed to simulate despite the unmoving medium it was carved into. His hair war unruly after the fight with security, but the curls were still there. It was hard to deny that he was handsome, even more so in the flesh. 

"What do they say about me?" he asked calmly. His fingertips brushed over the sculpture’s hair. He pulled back, remembering how protective you had been over the wax tablet, but you nodded in silent reassurance that it was fine to touch. 

"You were a fierce warrior, but deep down you were a broken man, yearning to be reunited with your lover. You fought like you never feared death, in fact you would have embraced it, but the gods didn’t grant your wish. You might have never seen yourself as a man of words, but the few I found made your love for her very obvious. I’m really sorry that you lost her." 

A frown crept up to his lips with the mention of his wife. As much as the characterization fit, he hated that he was known for the pain he endured and the pain he caused. You saw the muscles in his jaw flex. "How did I die?" He turned back to you.

You shook your head. "We… never found out. You disappeared one night. The last accounts of sightings said you got drunk one night, stumbled across your estate and begged for the gods to have mercy, to take your life so you could be reunited with her. And you vanished. Some speculate you killed yourself in a nearby creek, or maybe died accidentally." 

"That was just before I woke up here," he said in confusion. His arms crossed in front of his chest, a sigh rumbling through his lungs. You couldn’t help but scan over his arms, so on display without any fabric covering his sunkissed, muscly biceps. 

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, mimicking his expression, more on accident than consciously. “I’m not a very religious person, especially as very little people believe in the Roman Gods any more, but… it would explain why you’re here. Maybe you need to do something here and then you get to be with her.” You couldn’t believe what you were saying, but he was here after all, and you were actually convinced that this was Marcus Acacius. If this was a dream and you had fallen asleep on your desk, this sure felt real, realer than any dream you ever had. 

“Perhaps,” he mumbled and wiped over his face with his right hand, never breaking eye contact with the statue. His gaze wandered to the walls, all of them plastered in hints about him, everything you found out about the general in your years of study. “You know a lot about me.” You nodded in response. ”Yes, I’m … a scholar. I studied history and you more specifically,” you explained, motioning towards the walls of information with your hand. It was odd, to say the least, to have your subject more or less in front of you. There was so much you wanted to ask him. You had to stop yourself though, the shock probably needed some time to settle for him. For you it would also take some time to accommodate to the fact you had a Roman General in your office. ”You are surprisingly calm for someone that just woke up 1800 years in the future,” you added as an afterthought. 

His dark brown eyes met your again. Gone was the drunk attitude and all that remained was a broken man. ”I thought I must be dreaming at first. But I could never imagine a world like this. And then I thought this might be Elysium and you were my guide” His lips curled into a soft smile. It seemed genuine, and you were impressed how open minded he was, given where he came from. It must have been extraordinarily strange to wake up here. Strange clothes, strange languages, artificial light and electricity. 

”You might want to get some rest. Sleep the wine off and start arranging yourself with the new environment. I will see if I can get you something to wear in the morning. Unfortunately you can’t stay dressed like this,” you motioned to his tunic. It might have been quite normal back then, but now? They would think he was some weird larper. 

”Do you live here?” he asked. You shook your head, a little confused by the question. ”My house isn’t far from here, though. A few minutes walk.” “And you will sleep here?” ”I prefer my bed to be honest, but it’s for the best if someone stays with you.” He made a little grunt before he said ”I won’t be trouble, go sleep in your bed.” 

You shook your head. “I know you mean well but I can’t leave you alone. This … place isn’t safe for someone who’s not familiar with anything.” He scoffed again, but didn’t press the issue further. 

You left the office for a second to get a mattress and a blanket to make yourself a little bed in front of the couch. You motioned for him to flop down on the couch before laying down next to the sofa on the small mattress. ”We’ll get some clothes for you tomorrow. I’ll take you to my house so you can wash yourself,” you said with a yawn. Marcus turned to look at you, his gaze was intense like he was studying you. 

”What is it?” you asked him when his staring lingered for way longer than necessary. ”Are all women today strange like you? Why are you helping me?” was all he asked. Well. Why did you? ”You’re stuck here,” you started, looking at the ceiling. “I might be the only person that can maybe help you find whatever you’re supposed to find. It probably is a bit of my pride as well. I’ve studied you for so long and I would regret not spending time with you. You can teach us so much about Rome in your time. About the emperor. About the wars you were in. About the arena.” “You don’t want to hear about that,” he simply stated and turned his back towards you. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. Then we’ll just find out what your reason to be here is.” You also turned your back toward him, hearing the rustle of his pillow about half a minute after. It fell quiet in your office, only a few hours before the sun rose again. 

While you couldn’t remember any of your dream that night, Marcus must’ve encountered some divination during his rest. The voice of his late wife echoed in his mind, soft and warm like her lips whenever she kissed him. 

‘We will be reunited, my love. Find me where you laid me to rest.‘ 

He woke up a mere 5 hours later, his heart ardent with the knowledge of what he and his new found ally would have to do. Find Astra. 

Taglist: @jennaispunk @burntheedges @whocaresstillthelouvre @roughdaysandart

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[gin-juice-tonic]

Hello. It's me again. I'm sure you've realized by now what this type of introduction to a post is leading into. I'm going to bring up another page in the bill book. This entry is going to be less about "proving" anything, but rather it's just something I'd like to discuss. (Also just a warning, this one ends up a bit long due to how many photos are included!)

As I have said before. I had many many thoughts, and I am liable to talk about them until they're all talked out. I want to focus on a single page again (Or I guess, a single double page).

Sorry for the kinda small image here, but don't worry. I'll point out the part I want to talk about.

What I find strange about these pages in particular, aside from the fact that it starts to become written like some sort of noir novel and that Bill has chosen to speak like a femme-fatale, is the new idea it suggests to us:

Bill at some point told Ford he was from another dimension.

I say "at some point" because Ford doesn't react to the idea like this is new information here. Why do I find that strange? Well, for one thing, there's never anything that would indicate Ford knew this pre-portal.

To start, we know that Bill introduces himself to Ford as "a Muse"

Notice the way Ford speaks about him. "From a higher plane, divine, otherworldly". He makes some guesses on the second page (spirit, alien, dream, etc), but nothing to indicate they've discussed the whole other-dimension thing yet. Of course, this is still early, so let's skip further ahead.

Here's where we start talking about other dimensions.

Bill has told his "weirdness dimension" lie to Ford, but there's no implication that he himself is from this dimension. And not to mention, this dimension hasn't been destroyed, so naturally it cannot be the one he talks about in the Bill Book pages.

Regardless, Bill is still being referred to as a divine thing, unknowable and even possibly not real. Safe to say he isn't inter-dimensional yet, so let's continue.

(this section has been edited from its original wording)

Here Fiddleford and his idiosyncrasies enter the fray, and Ford debates telling him. Fiddleford is aware they're building a portal to another dimension, so it would not be that far of a stretch in that vein for Ford to also explain that Bill himself is from one. But Ford's attitude toward the situation veers towards the less scientific. Ford still considers Bill to be something divine, and is worried Fiddleford would think black magic is happening.

Worrying that Fiddleford would think he's gone mad is one thing, but the emphasis on black magic and fiddlefords superstitions strike me as odd.

I understand there are likely several varying reasons why Ford wouldn't want to tell Fiddleford about Bill, even if Ford DID know he was from a different dimension, however:

If Ford had something to suggest Bill's essence was more scientific in nature, I.E. him being from another dimension himself, I think he would've put that into consideration in that when deciding whether to reveal him to Fiddleford, or at the very least would've given up the emphasis on his superstitious nature.

I'm not trying to say he would've actually fully revealed it to Fiddleford if this were the case, but I think the thought process around the concept of doing so would be different.

.

We're closing in on the portal test now. Ford refers to him here as a "non corporeal entity". He is non corporeal so long as he exists only in the astral plane... but is that what Ford is talking about? Or does he believe Bill has only ever existed in the mindscape? Does he know yet? I don't think this page actually includes much of an answer, I just figured it should be included.

The next-next page does have Ford cheekily refer to him as "imaginary" though...

Fairly soon after this, the portal incident and the betrayal happens. Could it be possible that somewhere within these pages, Bill spilt his home dimension backstory? I'm still inclined to think not.

These questions have no definitive answer, but I am led to wonder:

1) Bill's whole dynamic with Ford is that of a "Muse" inspiring intelligent minds throughout history, wouldn't the reveal of him being from another dimension call this dynamic into question?

2) If Bill is something from another dimension, wouldn't asking Ford to build a portal to a dimension totally-not-at-all-related-to-him become suspicious? Would Ford not question his motives at that point?

(A later edit: As has been pointed out in the reblogs, some of what I have discussed thus far fails to take into account the mental state Ford could be in due to Bill's abuse/manipulations. Expecting perfect logic and reasoning from him like the two questions above are asking for may not be fair. I am leaving them in this post so the aforementioned reblogs continue to make sense, but again, how his prolonged abuse factors into his logic and decision-making should be taken into consideration.)

.

.

I have just a few more post-portal pages to show to continue my long winded discussion with as well.

The pages about Exwhylia read a bit weirdly, admittedly. The first page Ford states he thought this was Bill's birthplace, the second page he states he believes Bill came from somewhere similar but was mysteriously destroyed.

If Ford thought this 2-D dimension had been reduced to an atom before he got there, how could he have planned to go? And I should hardly call being destroyed by a monster a "mysterious" method of destroying. Whatever the explanation for the way these are written is, I don't think they read like Bill has ever spoken to Ford about his home dimension.

Additionally, he mentions his "quest to defeat Bill" is what led him here, which I feel implies he learned of this place after being portaled.

I wish I had a good closer for this mini-essay, but the questions I asked above the Exwhylia section were originally supposed to be it. I don't believe Bill had told Ford about his dimension. That's the end of the sentence.

MAJOR ADDENDUM:

I can't believe I missed this (I can believe it) but.. In the book of Bill, Ford refers to Bill as "extradimensional" after their very first meeting!

Pinpointing the answer to my timeline question supposedly to this exact moment. In my opinion, if you combine this with everything I've mentioned above, no part of this idea from the book of bill makes any sense at all. You might remember at the beginning of this post, Ford guesses at what type of creature Bill is... two years after this last page here was supposed to have been written.

Additionally, if he had known there was an "extradimensional" creature in gravity falls at this point in time, I should hardly think it would've taken him two whole years after that to think of the idea that the Falls' weirdness may come from out of our dimension! (Not to mention in J3 he tells us the idea was told to him directly from Bill. Two years elapsed between these conversations? Knowing Ford, not likely. Again, even if Bill somehow did avoid telling him that whole time, I think Ford very well could've figured it out on his own by then.)

[nuhuhwinniethepooh]

Anything?

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Tags : Dubcon, oral (female giving), penetration, smut with plot, man-handling, death, heavy angst, mild gore, unprotected sex (use protection!).

Notes : Gojo is the victim here. Also if you know, you know. Minors, the drill. Out.

"And they have to do one thing, anything, that the winner says."

You turn back with a small hum of acknowledgement, the lilt of his voice calling your name distracting you from the mangled curse corpse in front of you.

"Satoru, you're here early today" you beam at the white-haired man in front of you as you messily wipe the blue blood on your jacket, his large figure seemingly blocking the doorway. Oh well, you weren't needed anywhere at the moment anyways.

He stares at you quietly, you stare back. You don't need to see his eyes to know. His gaze is hard to ignore when you can clearly feel yourself be picked apart and put together again like pieces of a puzzle, trying to decode you, your mind and soul with his six-eyes. You won't let him. Not this time.

"Ever the difficult one, I'd have enjoyed this rare tryst otherwise" you sigh at his silence, your smile never faltering. Gently flopping down on the dusty, rickety bed behind you with your legs crossed- a sight to behold with the splattered corpse decorating the headboard and walls.

"You're as annoying as ever" His voice is cold, despite the smile on his lip, his gaze even colder when he pulls the bandage off his eyes and positions himself to blow you off- his cerulean blues staring right into yours like you guessed. You grin, you can't help it, lazily positioning yourself in a defensive position.

Your eyes distractedly flickers back at the muted sound of blood dripping down from the curse's body, a 1st grade incubus. How ideal. "Any last words?" Satoru. Sweet as ever. He owes you though.

"Can I kiss you?" You lick the speckles of blood from your hand, drifting the other one down right above your womb "I'm rather aroused right now, aphrodisiacal effects and what not" You move towards him, showcasing the mutilated corpse on the wall. An incubus. Aphrodisiac blood. Satoru sighs, his hands moving to his pockets "Seriously? You could've said anything and that's what you're going with? Are you sure you want those to be your last words?"

It's funny he said that, you have no intention to make this your last moment.

"Speaking of anything, I believe there's something we've forgotten" You murmur, fingers trailing up his torso and his neck to pull him down.

"Satoru, I wonder if you remember"

2005

"Rock, paper, Scissors! Winner gets the tart!" You pull at Satoru's hair to stop him from eating the oh so delicious lemon tart that Shoko purchased for her adoring kohai, you. Only problem was that Satoru came in at the wrong moment. He grunts, setting the plate down to loosen your hold and tackle you in the common room floor "You've had three already! Don't be so selfish, will ya?!"

"Don't care! It's mine, you should be glad that I'm even willing to compromise with you" you huff, looking up at him from your position on the floor as he glares down at you, his legs straddling your waist. He narrows his eyes, you narrow yours right back and with a sigh, he puts his glasses back on with a quiet 'fine'.

1 : 0 Satoru wins.

Damn that technique of his, you grumble as you watch him eat the tart with a smug smirk.

"Rock, Paper, Scissors. Loser treats the Winner to dinner." You challenge Satoru, holding onto your wounded arm as you make your way to the infirmary with the pair. Suguru sighs, Satoru smiles. A cheshire-like grin quickly gracing his face "Does the loser pay for the winner's friends too?"

You shrug in agreement, that only meant free dinner for Suguru, Shoko and you. Haibara and Nanami were out of town.

A shame. It would've been easier to burn through Satoru's pocket if they weren't.

4 : 0 Satoru wins and you don't learn a lesson.

You also burn a hole through your wallet, Suguru and Shoko's bill were fine. Satoru ate a horse.

You look left at the sound of your name, finger pointing to the right, Satoru looks left. He points up, your gaze follows his fingers and stupidly looks up. Nanami and Shoko only sighs at the sight, uncaring of the outcome. Too tired to chide you anymore, you just don't listen.

30 : 0 Satoru wins

You're forced to massage his stiff shoulders for an hour while he watches his soap operas with a victorious hum.

2007

"Come in" you call out at the sound of the knock, kicking your feet in the air and against the wall as you lie on your back. Hair falling off the edge of the bed into small cascades.

Satoru walks in, drawling out your name as he settles down on the floor and starts fiddling with your hair. He's different, you've seen that curious glint in his eyes one too many times to not notice. It never led to anything good. Never. "What is it?" You sigh, it's the only thing you can do.

"What do you do at times like this?"

You pause, tilting your head back to look at him and his cryptic question with a quirked brow "Times like what?" You ask, your fingers twitching at the sight of the small blush rising in his cheeks. A little pinch wouldn't hurt, right?

"Times like when you've got a boner...y'know"

You still, completely and perfectly as you stare at him. You're not sure if you're dreaming or hallucinating because this could never be reality, the nonchalant look on his face further irks you. You don't understand him, you knew him but you never really did understand him- mostly because of questions like such. You don't have a dick, never did....or do you? Your hand drifts up to your cunt and cups it, brows furrowing at the realization- you were so utterly baffled at his question that you doubted the very equipment you've had for years.

"Why are you asking me this? Nanami, Haibara and Suguru exists-" you start, moving to get up. Satoru doesn't allow it. Gently tugging you back down by your hair with a click of his tongue "They all kicked me out"

No surprise there.

"Seriously though, why me? Ask Shoko. She's the expert in thi-" he pinches your cheeks, effectively cutting you off "Just answer me, will ya? Help a friend out here, geez." You pry his hands off, pulling it away from your face with a sigh as you answer reluctantly "I guess I'd take care of it"

"Do ya wanna help me?" You let go of his hands and finally shift to sit up. You're dreaming. No doubt.

"What?"

"Isn't it normal for friends to...y'know, help each other out? So let's do it together" He leans forward and looks up at you expectantly. Any other time, the sight would've rubbed your ego. Hell, you'd have found it cute. However this time, the air starts to buzz, small sparks of electricity running down your skin. At least he doesn't look immune to the tension either, a small mercy.

"You mean like mutual masturbation?" You ask, Satoru nods quietly. You're not sure which is more surprising. Him being straight, you always thought he had a thing for Suguru, or him being interested in sex in the first place.

"Left and right, winner gets the say?" he offers, breaking the silence and holding his index up. You sigh, again, nodding with a smile "Left and right, winner gets the say." You point to the left, your gaze falling towards your right at the sound of your pillow falling. Satoru looks right.

43 : 0 Satoru wins

"Wanna make one more bet?" Satoru asks coolly, pumping his pre-cum on his hard cock while you shimmy your shorts down. You nod quietly, trying your hardest not to look at it or at least stop yourself from staring. You knew he was big, all the time he spent straddling you gave you enough reasons to not doubt it. Add his height in the equation and it results to something you're not sure you'd ever want inside you.

He's oblivious to your dilemma as you settle down on the bed with only a shirt and your cotton panties on- facing him, of course.

"How about the first one to cum loses? And they have to do one thing, anything, that the winner says."

Anything?

"Satoru, you do know that 'anything' is a ruinous- hah- word, right? You should really stop using that word for bets in the future" You breathe out, rubbing up and down your slit through the thin material. Satoru's gaze zeroes down with a smirk "So are you in or not, your highness? Unless you're too afraid to lose." You know you shouldn't fall for his words, you shouldn't fall for that husky voice of his that only gathers heat low in your stomach but the hazy mist enveloping your mind accepts it before you know it.

Small whimpers leak out of you, pushing the soaked material aside and rubbing gentle circles on your clit as you look at Satoru through hazy eyes. The clumsy technique of his when he touches himself, a contradiction to his skills in other areas. His snow-white hair sticking to his forehead and the way he closes his eyes when he gets really into it, the small grunts and pants escaping his lips. You can't help it, he's so beautiful. Leaning forward, your forehead taps against his with closed eyes as you push a finger past your folds-

Warm, something warm gushes on your hand. Eyes snapping open only to see a blushing Satoru cumming on your hand, your thighs, your arms- basically everywhere. He came. On you.

"Yessssssss" You hiss in delight, your rising orgasm in the back of your mind when you finally get your first victory, pumping your hands in the air excitedly; a low muffled groan emanating from in between Satoru's hand. The complete opposite of you.

Satoru's not sure why he's burying his face, was it from his loss of win streak? His defeat? Embarrassment? Or post nut clarity? Satoru's really not sure but what he is sure is the fact that he just can't look you in the eye right now.

"We barely started and you already came so quick!" You giggle delightedly, your dripping core completely forgotten as you revel in your victory. He peeks at you, your forehead to be precise, from in between his fingers with a pout "I couldn't help it, I thought you were gonna kiss me"

Kiss him? You? He thought you were gonna kiss him? Now that he mentioned it, his lips did look really kissable- "Did you want me to?" You ask. He blinks weirdly, one eye lagging behind the other like a broken doll before his face scrunches.

First was digust? You're not sure, the glint in his eyes says otherwi- Then came more disgust, his nose scrunching at the thought of it "Ew, why would I do that with a friend? That's just weird. No way, that's just gross"

"But what we did wasn't???" You question yourself, pursing your lips to shut yourself up as you move to clean up. You don't think you'll ever fully understand Satoru.

1 : 43 You win

"Satoru, go back to your own bed" you groan, your back pressed against his as he pushes you closer to the wall with a small grumbled 'don't wanna'.

"It's fuckin' cramped here" You shift, pulling the blanket towards your side. Rolling your eyes when he tugs it back with a quiet "Don't care, 'm sleepy." Maybe it was your fault, you spoil him too much. You reap what you sow afterall.

Only if you had stolen a kiss from those lips and stayed in the blissful ignorance of the past.

"Suguru, wait up. 'M coming with you" You grab hold of his sleeve, your lips pursed into a grim line. You've never seen Suguru so liberated. You can only hope that you're making the right choice- you probably are though. Afterall, it was them that killed her. Not Suguru.

You don't believe in any higher beings. You are the living definition of one- one with filthy blood.

"Does Shoko know?" His tone is light but your grimace only deepens, sighing as you move to stand besides him "She'll understand"

He smiles at your answer, leisurely walking at your pace "What about Satoru?"

You hum a soft tune as you look up at the clear sky, cerulean blue with scattered tufts of white clouds. A small smile graces your lips. How untimingly beautiful.

"Him? He'll survive"

2017

You lean up, pressing your lips against his gently. A feather-light touch. He doesn't move, he only looks. His arctic eyes glaring down at you.

"Satoru, do you remember? You promised to do anything" you whisper in his ear, brushing your thumb against his lips before slowly wrapping your arms around his neck. "I'll use that promise now, have sex with me"

"Are you high right now, your highness?"

You giggle at the nickname, how amusing that he's still using it, trailing your hand down his spine. "You know my technique, Satoru. Royal Authority takes a toll on me if I use it for too long" you sigh, nuzzling his neck. Breathing in his oddly familiar scent. "I'm all weak right now, the aphrodisiac should be three times more potent when I'm like this. You know that as well as I do "

You pull away when you're met with silence and his unchanging face, lowering your voice to a soft coo "You don't have to do it if you don't want to, Satoru. Just don't come blaming me when some of those monkeys, like Suguru so kindly puts it, gets hurt when I try to help myself."

"You-"

You click your tongue, cutting him off. "You're a fool, Satoru. If you really want to save them so much you should be killin' me, not listening to my ramblings" He's glaring down at you, you know he is. The feeling of a hole burning through your head was more than enough of a warning for you to stop, to pull your hand back and run away, leaving him behind. Like always. You don't. Not this time.

Trailing your hand down, you giggle when your hand flutters against his cock clearly straining against his leggings "Consider me entertained, you're already hard. And here I thought you hated me, I guess you still have that cute side of you-"

You're cut short when Satoru grabs you by your hair, apparently a habit of his now, roughly tugging it back and crashing his lips against yours wantonly- bordering on desperation with more teeth and tongue than lips. His other hand trails down the arm that was pressed against his crotch, slowly intertwining his fingers with yours. Pulling you closer, closer and closer still until you taste blood on your lips. He bit you. Canines pressing down on your tongue to draw droplets of blood- the bloody red decorates itself against his kiss-bitten lips, a stark contrast against his cerulean eyes.

How unfairly beautiful.

You pull away to speak. To tell him 'let's take this business to bed', he doesn't give you a chance. He follows your lips, chasing after it. The more you lean back, the more he leans in- your heaving chest completely pressed against his as he tangles his hand in your hair, supporting you up when you lean too far back. He's too rough, you're not sure if he's trying to suck or nip at you. He does neither, he just bites- not hard enough to bleed but just enough to feel.

"Bed" you finally breathe out, taking in deep breathes when he moves to kiss your jaw. He's so cute when he acts like he can't part his searing lips away from you for even a second. He won't have to, there's a perfectly working bed behind you, albeit a little dusty, rickety and slightly bloody- he clicks his tongue when he catches sight of the bed's condition.

"I'm not getting naked here, I have standards"

"Ijichi? He's your assistant now, isn't he?" You hum, leaning back into the motel's bed- watching Satoru watch you as he walks in and shut the door behind him. Effectively clicking it shut. You feel so much better, having scrubbed the grime off-

"I sent him back" he nods blankly, standing right in front of you. For all the air he puts on, his cock sure was honest- already so hard that it bulges out through the thick layer of his leggings and jacket. You press your face against it, squishing it beneath your cheek as you take in his heady scent. Fingers hooking against the hem of his leggings, you pull it down, down, down to his ankles.

You quickly move to do the same with his boxers but his hands quickly grabs your wrists to a halt, earning him a frustrated huff. "What is it now?" You ask with an exasperated smile.

"Are you serious about this?"

This man was gonna be the death of you. He doesn't have a choice and yet, he still acts like he does. Typical Satoru.

Your smile turns into a smirk, a teasing one "Don't tell me you've never slept with a person before? Because I am, I am serious" Prying your hands off his hold, you pull his boxers down to meet his fully erect cock. His tip an angry red and leaking- so hard and red against his soft, white tufts of hair lining up his pelvic bone. "Totally serious"

It's unfair to be so beautiful.

"Shall we start with a blow job?" You murmur, placing a small kiss on his tip, smile widening when you feel him shudder against your touch with a muffled groan. "You don't look like a virgin" you murmur, flicking your tongue against his slit- precum salty in your mouth "but you sure act like one"

Licking your lips, you part your mouth wider, lips stretching around his length almost painfully while your tongue glides itself against his throbbing veins and pulls out such pretty, little sounds from him that it makes you wanna play it on repeat over and over again. But it's not enough. Not for you.

Holding yourself steady, you push his cock all the way down your throat. Forcing him in impossibly closer until his white tufts tickles your nose, your hands digging into his thighs as you start a sinful, torturous pace. Gagging and choking around his length when you fall into an unstopping rhythm that has him pulling at your hair and groaning your name out to stop. You don't listen.

The past silence all but forgotten by your loud, pathetic slurps and his low, guttural moans of 'wait' and 'stop'. You don't stop, more like you can't stop.

Satoru's protest was as false as his hatred for you, you're not the moving anymore afterall. His hold on your hair pulls you in and out, each one deeper and harder, thrusting into your throat so wildly that all you can do is dig your hands into his alabaster skin.

No doubt creating pretty little moon-shaped dents that'll last for days in the back of his thighs.

Tears pool in your eyes as you look up at him, face all scrunched up with closed eyes and you realize that he's getting really into it. A wet, gurgling sound emanates from deep within you when you see the veins tick in his jaw. He's close. Cerulean blues stares into yours, his free hand brushing against your cheek to wipe at the few tears that escaped.

"Don't go crying on me now- hah- you're the one who wanted this"

He's so mean. And so very condescending. It's all too much- you can't help but clench your thighs together, slick leaking through the flimsy motel robe and wetting the sheets beneath you. You've fallen too far but you just can't seem to care. He looks so fuckin' hot.

And he is fuckin' hot- more like his cum is when he shoots it down your pretty little throat and ruts against it, holding your head in place to stop you from spitting it out. Grabbing hold of his shirt, you swallow desperately so that you can finally pull away and heave for air, the salty taste of his cum resting thick in your mouth as you pant, knuckles going white from how hard you clutch onto his shirt.

Satoru loosens his hold on your hair, kneeling down to look at you. He's no longer glaring, he's just looking. Something unfamiliar swirls in his eyes besides lust, you can't put your finger on what it is. And that pisses you off. You'd rather have him glare at you. It's easier for you to decode him that way. It's also far easier for your throbbing heart.

"We can stop here" His voice is soft, almost loving. It makes you want to rip your ears off.

"No, I want you in me. Can you do it?" You're adamant, Satoru can only give in. His hands trails down to undo the bindings of your robe, pressing a light kiss on your collarbone. "Trust me"

"The bet was to do anything, right?" He murmurs in your ear, his breathe hot and heavy against your skin. You're a mess- all but reduced to a pile of whines and whimpers when he pushes his leaking tip past your fluttering folds and splits your drooling walls apart. Forcing himself past the first rim of muscles and stretching you so wide, it almost feels like you'll tear.

"Wanna make another bet?" He grunts, giving shallow, experimental thrusts to give your gummy walls the time to adjust to his size. He's nice that way.

"Seriously? Right now?" You breathe out in short puffs, tilting your head to the side to look at him unamusedly, trying so desperately to get used to the delicious albeit painful stretch. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, his only reply? A nod.

"The first one to cum loses. And the loser has to do one thing, nothing serious of course" He looks at you with a grin, the corner of his lips stretched knowingly at you. He still remembers, you smile back. It's the only thing you can do "Deal"

"Perfect" Dragging his swollen cock out just enough, he kisses your forehead. A soft-featherlight kiss, one that you barely register. Before he's ramming back in and out, over and over against your sweet, sweet spot with a pace so brutal that you're sure he's rearranging your insides- It'll probably be bruised by the end of it.

"For someone- ah who a-acts like a virgin, you sure know y-your way around"

He chuckles shakily above you, pace refusing to stutter for even a moment "Six eyes, remember?" Damn that technique of his.

"T-that's unfair" you grit out and he only smiles, it's a mean one. One that gets your drooling cunt even wetter and your already snug walls even tighter.

"Everything's -nghh fair in love and war, y-your highness. And I for one, am in lo-" you slap your hand over his mouth with a small no, your spotty vision not doing anything to help block his burning gaze. Everything else goes blank after.

You're digging your fingers into his cheeks with your eyes screwed shut when an unfamiliar white-hot sensation of electricity shoots through you. Kissing and marking every inch of skin with its delicious burn. Making sure to milk his very soul out of him- he follows right behind, shooting that forbidden ropes of his cum in your womb.

Almost as if trying to paint over your bruised insides with it's milky tone.

143 : 1 Satoru wins

You're heaving, gasping and sucking in lungs full of air one at a time but you still can't breathe. It's suffocating. So very suffocating.

You look down at Satoru only to find his hair staring back at you, only registering the kitten licks he's placing over your perked up nipples when he places an unusually harsh bite on one side and a mean tug on the other which elicites a high pitched squeak out of you. You clamp down on his still hard coc-

"Didn't you already come twice? H-how are you still hard, so quickly that too" You question, grinding against him in disbelief- that action earns you a teethy bite on the curve of your breast, leaving pretty, little red teeth dents.

"The thing is, until today, I wasn't able to get it up properly for the past few years" Satoru leans up, suckling on your kiss-bitten bottom lip. His eyes everything but the usual cesspool of infinite void when he meets your gaze- something dark and warm has taken it's place, filling the infinite void till it reaches the brim and spills out.

"And it's all thanks to a certain highness who ran away from her knight in shining armor."

How absurd. He's finally gone crazy. "You're joking" you breathe out, leaning your head back to tug your lips free. That pisses him off.

"Joking?" He clicks his tongue, his tone low and gravelly, and swipes his finger over your lips to force it's way past and pry your lips open.

You move to bite down but he's quicker. Crashing his lips against yours to swallow you whole, licking and searching for the small dents of his canines on your tongue with a groan as if looking out for remnants of your blood.

He doesn't find any, he curses your RCT. Wait, RCT? Oh you little liar.

Your heaving chest presses against his, effectively distracting him from his thoughts, back arching off the bed with a loud whine when he bucks into you with a painfully sweet thrust.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to show you what a few years of build-up looks like to make you believe me"

It's been hours, your insides have been molded perfectly to his size but he still hasn't stopped, he's relentless.

"I-I would've followed you-nngh anywhere if you only asked me to" He groans, your name falling past his lips like a mantra, harshly bucking his overstimulated cock into your sloppy cunt with every word he utters. His grip on your thighs so bruising that it leaves angry purple and red splotches against it.

"W-what?" You stutter out, barely lucid, sucking his every inch in over and over again with a sinful squelch.

"W-would've followed-hah you anywhere if you j-just asked" he repeats, rolling the pad of his thumb against your abused clit with sharp, calculated moves. Almost as if trying to rip and tear through you to squeeze out another orgasm.

You squeal under his touch, thighs hooking around his sculpted waist to pull him closer still- the very same thighs which now trembles and shakes at the force of your orgasm, giving him exactly what he wants for the umpteenth time with a loud and stuttered babble of incoherent words as you gush around him.

Satoru follows behind, like he always does, his spilled seeds leaking out of the side and dripping over the damp mattress. You try to blink the hazy mist of your high off when something warm drips on your cheek with a small plik. Once Twice Thric-

Looking up only to find Satoru's watery blues brimmed with tears which steadily falls down to your cheek and slides down to the pillow underneath. "I s-swear I would've, if you only asked me to"

And you know he means it, you know he would've done so without any hesitation. His bags would've been packed before you were done asking and that's exactly why you didn't do so. You don't deserve him.

Satoru deserves so much better, he doesn't deserve you. Not when you have filthy blood running in your veins. All you can do is steel your heart for him.

"Get off" Your tone is cold, the first you've ever used towards him in a long, long time. The hurt flashing across his flushed face prickles your skin, it burns and squeezes your heart so tight that it knocks the wind out of you. "It's for the best."

His face is blank again, the warm blues in his eyes flickers and turns cold. The last of his tears dripping on your cheek feels icicle, sliding down and leaving a trail of ice as he moves off of you. Pulling out with a lewd slosh and pop, thick globs of cum spilling out onto the already damp mattress.

You quickly move to sit up despite the uncomfortable throb, everything hurts, but Satoru is quicker, he doesn't allow you to do so. Grabbing you by the waist, he pulls you back to bury his face in your hair.

"Wait, no no no- Stay. Please. I'm sorry" His tone is urgent, leaning to borderline deperate. You try to pry his hands off, he doesn't relent. He has an iron-grip on you.

"I won't ask you to take me back" he starts, voice muffled by your skin as he presses his lips against the back of your neck wantonly "I won't ask you to come back"

"I won't ask anything serious off of you, I swear. I just want you to stay" he murmurs, pulling you so close that his chest presses against your back. "I can't, Suguru needs me"

She gave her life to save yours so you'll give yours to protect his. Protect Suguru for her, it's the least you can do fo-

"And you think I don't?" Satoru chokes out, tangling his legs with yours. Holding you still, keeping you there. He doesn't plan on letting you go anytime soon. "Why is it always him? I needed you too, I always did. Hell I still do"

"Satoru-" he cuts you off, letting go of you to quickly shift and make you face him before you even realize it. Snaking an arm around yours to pull you flush against him, burying his face in the curve of your breasts. "What about me?"

"What about you?" You whisper, cupping his cheek, gently making him look up. He's tearing up again, you made him cry again. You don't know how you'll ever forgive yourself. But you can't go soft on him, not now.

"You'll survive" you brush his tears off "you always do"

"I won so you have to stay...even if only for tonight" he whispers defeatedly, leaning up to kiss you- he can't change your mind anymore, no one can. It's far too late.

It's your fault, you've spoiled him too much. You reap what you sow.

"Fine" you murmur in his salty lips, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

You'll indulge him one last time. Even if it's only for tonight.

December 24

"Can't a woman have any privacy around here?" You rasp out, a smile flickering at your face at the sight of Satoru kneeling besides you. Quiet. And all too solemn. It doesn't suit him.

"You're bleeding" He's a genius, isn't he? Always pointing out the obvious. You look down at the open gash in your chest, barely surviving, barely breathing as you use Royal Authority to it's full extent to forcefully keep your heart pumping. Your energy diminishing rapidly, curse your technique for using so much of it.

"Suguru?" You ask, head falling back against the wall when he shakes his head. Gone. Suguru's gone. You will be too, soon enough. "Stay with him, he gets lonely easily" you murmur, breathing in shakily. He tucks your hair behind your ear gently, a small smile on his lips "He'll understand"

Your heart throbs painfully, the crushing pain moving on to every single part of your body at the sight of his smile. How painfully beautiful. Your mortal wounds could never hold a candle against this pain.

"It's funny how you're still so beautiful even when you're on the verge of dying"

Warmth blooms in your slowly freezing body, a genuine smile fluttering against your lips at his praise. Like the smiles you graced him with in the past. The painfully beautiful smile that grabs hold of his heart and doesn't let go, it never did let go. Even after everything you've done.

"Truly beautiful" He whispers, his voice hoarse and thick, grazing your cheek. "Satoru. Go" You whisper back, leaning into his touch. "Suguru needs you more than I do, I'm better off alone"

He opens his mouth to protest. "Left and right, winner gets the say" You hold your index, cutting him right off. "Loser has to do one thing, anything, that the winner says"

He smiles. A bitter one, his furrowed brows gives him away. "I thought you told me to stop using that word for future bets"

"Consider this an exception" you smile back sweetly "Satoru, live the life you want to live okay?"

"As long as I survive, right?" You answer with a nod.

"Don't worry. If it's for you, I'll do it. I'll survive." He sighs, holding his finger up and pointing to the right, you look down. You point to the direction he came from, the direction Suguru is in, the direction that your gaze falls at. Satoru looks left.

"Leave"

2 : 143 You win

"I'll be right back" Satoru whispers thickly, gently closing your lifeless eyes shut. "So stay right where you are this time, your highness"

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It's always the midnight inspo, I swear. Lost braincells trying to write the smut scenes.

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