#i forget them all the time but he didn't even get a name so it's like whatevs.

[impactrueno]

Beetlejuice clearly wasn't interested in Lydia when they met, so when do you think he actually fell for her? Was he so impressed by Lydia defeating him that he developed a little crush?

i think this might be the biggest thing i've been turning around in my head since the sequel dropped. how did bro get to this point. i need to know. you weren't like this where we left off, what happened during that huge time gap????

this is where canon ends and conjecture begins, you just have to theorize and fill in the gaps yourself with whatever makes the most sense to you, which is what i've been trying to do this whole time. so please bear with me here.

i don't know how much i want share or save for my comics because i don't know how much he would actually reveal about this but whatever we ball

edit: ok so i scrolled back up to this after finishing writing this and as it turns out i have no self control and i ended up sharing everything that crossed my mind. craziest stream of consciousness i've ever written down. strap on and keep your limbs inside the ride at all times. whatever. we BALL.

let's review their first encounter from his point of view:

you're hired to scare the deetzes, right? so you do just that. excellently you might add. just when you're about to terrorize their teenage daughter, barbara banishes you and the party is over. what fucking losers right? you get the sense that adam and barbara care about this girl so you make some remark about her and it pisses them off. haha. also whoa where did this place come from? damn adam, who could've guessed he had it in him. you forget about everything else and dance your way to dante's inferno room.

after spending a respectably tasteful evening with those ladies, you're chill now. relaxing under your little sun lamp to work on your tan.

someone walks in looking for adam and barbara. don't they know they're dead?

"are you a ghost too?"

"i'm the ghost with the most, babe."

hold on a sec, who's even—

...well hey. it's the girl.

the girl who can see ghosts, and she's talking to you.

target acquired. this one's your ticket out of this hellhole.

"you look like somebody i can relate to," you tell her. relate how? doesn't matter. you're ensnaring her with your affable demeanor like you always do, make people feel like you're pals with them first and foremost. she seems like a nice girl, so this should be easy. you tell her upfront that you want to get out of there and you need her help to do so.

"i want to get in," she says.

whoa there.

what? she wants to get in? she says that in response to you saying that you wanted out. she really has no idea what it's like on the other side, huh. but shit, that kinda stops you in your tracks a bit. this girl wants to die. this young? that's not right. makes no sense.

"...why?"

she just looks at you and says nothing. jesus. ok maybe it's none of your business so let's back it up. you're losing control of the conversation and you're on a mission here. you figure if she helps you get out, you might as well talk her off that ledge or show her how shitty it is on the other side or somethin'. frankly, you can't afford to care right now. you're not entirely sure why she thinks things would be better on the side you're so desperate to get out of, but alright. doesn't matter, right now you gotta get her to summon you. so you begin your little game of charades.

after she correctly guesses your name and almost says it a third time, she recognizes you as the snake that terrorized her family. god fucking dammit. you're losing her. you're getting impatient. your affable act is over. "nah...i want to talk to barbara," she says and now she's REALLY getting on your nerves because fuck barbara, fuck adam, you're SO CLOSE to getting out and you're not gonna let this go now, go go GO GO SAY IIIIIIITTTTTTT

adam and barbara walk in because of course they do. womp womp

ok well that didn't work, but you're not gonna give up so easily. sooner or later another opportunity will come and soon you will be free.

wait why are they moving the model— where are they taking it—

ooohhhhh. business meeting. get a load of these yuppies, trying to turn winter river into a town-sized Ripley's Believe it or Not. a talking marcel marceau statue? and you thought you were a con man. no wonder the deetz girl wants to die, it's bleak as hell here too. but if you get out...you can fix that. hell, you can fix anything.

these bozos are here to see some ghosts, but the girl says they're not going to show up unless the fleshbags stop making a mockery out of the whole thing and that maybe they can all live happy together in the house. ain't that sweet.

of course no one's taking her seriously. she's a kid, what does she know, right? they'd rather listen to the most obnoxious guy in the room (besides yourself) who has no idea what the fuck he's talking about, but somehow, he's got his hands on the handbook.

the girl panics, then immediately says completely deadpan "wait, what am i even worried about, otho, you can't even change a tire" and you're surprised they didn't hear how hard you cackled at that.

despite all that, they seem to have started a séance with their old wedding clothes. bad news for the maitlands. they're about to be dead-dead. the girl cries for them to stop, and these guys are just sitting there scared shitless. you're hearing everything. you knew a new opportunity would arise, so you wait, because this is the part where people remember how good at your job you are. they always do.

she knows you can help. you're the only one who can help. so here she comes. those wedding clothes give you an idea. plan B is now in motion.

well well well.

look who came crawling back.

she asks for your help, and you're happy to oblige, under one condition of course. after all, you don't do anything for free, and she's the only one who can help you with your problem. how serendipitous.

once again, you lay it on her, straight up. you want out. and a way to do it (thanks adam and barbara for the reminder) is through marriage with a fleshbag. you need to get married. a green card marriage, if you will.

she's immediately disgusted by the idea. you don't take that personally, of course, because it doesn't matter. she's just a kid and it's not a real marriage. she just happens to be unlucky enough to be the only one around who can assist you with this, the poor girl. it's a marriage of convenience—or rather, inconvenience—and you're not planning on sticking around because you will get the hell out of there as soon as you can. so there shouldn't be a problem, right? besides, does she know how many women would kill to be in that position? she gets to brag about it to her friends, what's not to like? it's a totally even deal.

the clock is ticking and the maitlands aren't getting any younger. she agrees to the deal. you win, at last.

she already knows what to do, so you sit there patiently with a shit-eating grin on your face, awaiting the three little B words. gloating.

Beetlejuice........Beetlejuice...........Beetlejuice.

it's showtime.

this is your favorite part. you love a dramatic entrance. you decide to show the deetzes and their greedy friends the circus they so wanted to turn this town into. horrible as you are, you're also pretty damn good at calling out other people's horribleness, and you do love an ironic karmic way of dealing with someone. for example tubby here thinks he can escape, but not before you change his sleek black suit into a tacky white leisure suit. the horror! this is why you're a professional at this.

you effortlessly end the exorcism and the maitlands are saved. a little pruney right now but they'll be fine. everything is taken care of, you have fulfilled your end of the deal like you promised. only one thing left to do.

"shall we?"

there's really no need to make a whole show out of this, but you're a showman first and foremost and as a 𝒥𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓊𝓂 you'll be damned if you're not gonna let yourself have a little fun with this. everyone looks terrified. this is why you're a professional at this.

witnesses and reverend in place, you can finally begin the ceremony. you're having fun, yes, but let's try to pick up the pace a bit, okay? the closer you get to your goal, the more impatient you get. the girl isn't finding any of this very funny at all and she protests. the maitlands butt in and are now kind of twisting your arm a bit, but you deal with them harmlessly, until they get on your last nerve so you send adam to the model and barbara to saturn. all of this after you honorably fulfilled your end of the bargain and saved the day. jesus christ, are you the only one with some integrity around here or what.

you forget the stupid ring. shit. you're pretty sure you have it on you somewhere, ever since you chopped up delores into pieces for poisoning you. you kept her ring finger as a trophy and as a reminder to never get married again, and yet here you are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. finally, you find the ring (still on her severed finger) and hastily tell your new bride-to-be that delores meant nothing to you. in case she even cares. she doesn't seem to. not even a chuckle? oh well.

almost done with the ceremony. almost there. you're holding the girl's hand with an iron grip to keep her in place as you're about to put that ring on her finger. "i now pronounce you, man and—"

a tiny car crashes against your foot and it catches on fire. you scream. a fucking sandworm crashes into the room through the ceiling. everyone screams. you scream LOUDER.

you're sent back to the afterlife waiting room.

not your first rodeo with a sandworm, but that doesn't make the experience any less shitty. the real annoying part is being in the waiting room again. this could take ages. you're number 9,998,383,750,000 and they're serving number 3 right now. you trick the guy next to you and steal his ticket (number 4) but he's not too pleased about that, so that didn't work.

a long time sitting here it is, then.

movie ends, credits roll.

for reference, that was 1988. winona ryder was 15 when they were filming in 1987 so while lydia doesn't have a confirmed age, i think we can safely assume that she was the same age as winona at the time.

36 years later, it's 2024. or 34 years later, it's 2022. we don't know the exact year because while bob's in memoriam credits scene says 2024 and all the interviews talk about how 36 years have passed in universe as well, there's this other one tiny detail.

jeremy's death passport says he died on march 11, 1999. jane butterfield says he died "23 years ago," putting the movie in 2022. they did film it in 2022 so the math is mathing correctly there. given that the in memoriam scene was more of a joke and jeremy's passport is a canon prop in the movie, i'd say 2022 is the canon year the movie is set in. (small sidenote; the passport also has the roman numerals DCLXVI which is 666. cute detail i loved it)

in the sequel, beetlejuice says lydia has been ignoring him for 30 years. i always thought that was curious because outside of this claim, they always specify how many years exactly have passed since. he doesn't say 34 or 36, he says 30. and for his degree of obsession (and the fact that he remembers exactly how many times he's watched The Exorcist) i think he would be counting even the days so i think he did really mean 30 years. so this would mean at least 4 years passed between getting sent back to the waiting room and the beginning of his stalking.

AND NOW that we established all that, we are finally getting to the answer to the question, "when and how did this all start?"

so okay, he spent a while in the waiting room. a lot of time to think. probably replaying the events at the deetzes' in his head over and over, how he got here, where he fucked up, what's he gonna do once he gets out. cursing the maitlands for ruining his plan when he was soooo fucking close. wondering what ever happened to lydia deetz.

lydia deetz, the young girl who told him she wanted to die.

...

is she alright?

i don't think he's capable of feeling guilt, but we can probably argue that he's not entirely heartless. what she said about how she wanted to "get in" must've stuck with him from the way he reacted when she dropped that bomb. she never showed up in the waiting room so he knows she didn't follow through with that. still, he used a vulnerable young girl for his own selfish gain. ironically enough, he knows exactly how that feels, because he also got tricked into marriage and got used for someone else's gain. the difference being that he dealt with that shit with an axe.

much much much to think about for mr. juice.

after years of ruminating in that waiting room, he's finally out and back to the regular day to day afterlife. definitely gets chewed out by juno, maybe forced to do community service or labor or what have you, he basically just needs to clean up his act now. this freelancing shit is becoming more trouble than it's worth anyway.

he's still wondering about lydia deetz. should he check in on her? maybe he should, he's too curious now.

at this point, lydia is now about 19-21 and in college. maybe he manages to sneak into the model one time she's back home for the holidays or something. and oh my god would you look at that, what a beautiful young woman she's grown into. she's radiant. she's happy. she's no longer that gloomy suicidal kid he met in the attic. seems like what she said about the deetzes and the maitlands sharing the house did come true after all.

that's nice. very sweet. good to know.

maybe he wonders if she remembers him and tries to get her attention somehow, give her a little scare for old times sake or whatever. for a brief moment it seems like she saw something and her expression changes, but she shrugs it off and continues on chatting with her two sets of parents. no such luck.

oh well. curiosity sated! and beetlejuice goes back home and doesn't return.

until the next time he returns.

and he keeps coming back to check in on her, telling himself he's just making sure that she hasn't killed herself or something. and he's not above admitting that with every year that passes, she keeps getting more beautiful. and to think they almost got married, huh.

he constantly tries to get her to notice him somehow, and sometimes she almost does, but ultimately he never really succeeds beyond making her do a double take. very rarely she does catch a glimpse of him. he's seen her mutter to herself that she's just seeing things and she seems a bit frightened every time this happens, but there's nothing to fear, honey, it's just good ol' beetlejuice. he won't lie, he gets a bit of a rush every time and it makes his dead heart beat faintly. he's gotten this far, he can't just stop now. in his mind, this has become their little private game of cat and mouse, where the mouse ignores the cat. but aren't they cute? he thinks they're cute. this is not creepy at all!

before he realizes, he's already learned everything about her. he knows about richard and even watched their wedding from afar like a loser. he knows she gave birth to a healthy baby girl named astrid. he knows they have a blast on halloween. halloween is lydia's favorite holiday, and his too. sometimes he can't help but see the three of them happy together and think it could've totally been him. even if he and richard are nothing alike (in fact could not be more opposite) and the circumstances of their unholy wedding were nothing short of grim and a farce. but in his mind, he's starting to convince himself otherwise.

maybe it's his jealousy speaking, but lydia doesn't seem to be that happy with richard despite everything. even though richard is like, the perfect guy. then one day his suspicions are proven correct: neither of them knows why it happened, but after having a long and emotional talk (that he watched with a bucket of popcorn) they decide to get a divorce. he pumps his fist, feeling victorious for some reason. sure he's a little sadistic at times, but why is this giving him so much glee?

the divorce is hard on lydia's kid, who was always more attached to her father, but they still spend a lot of time together. sometimes the three of them, since richard and lydia kept things amicable after the divorce. lydia tries to move on and see other people, but each relationship fails before it even starts. mostly because she keeps holding back and so fails to connect with anyone else, but also sometimes because, well, he can't help himself but to scare them away from her from time to time. it's fun. in his mind, he's just being protective of her, as a gentleman should for a lady.

then richard dies. fell into a piranha infested river from the looks of it (he saw him at immigration one day, don't ask what he was doing around there, force of habit after constantly making sure lydia hasn't killed herself yet.) it's devastating for both lydia and astrid, straining their relationship even more for the next few years as they both try to cope with the loss. the shock proves to be too much for lydia, so she goes to a survivors retreat to work through her trauma, both from richard's death and "unresolved feelings."

then lydia, at her most vulnerable, meets rory.

beetlejuice was able to clock him immediately. a textbook manipulative opportunist, he himself knows the tactics very well. swoop in to "help" someone in a vulnerable position, pull the wool over their eyes and begin taking control so you can get what you want out of that person.

he wouldn't admit it, but this really irks beetlejuice. you know when you see someone who reminds you of the worst parts of yourself, so you despise them? yeah. he's been there, and he's also been him.

but rory is somehow even worse than beetlejuice. see, rory is her manager, and boy does he manage to get on his nerves. he takes her phone. he controls what medication she takes. he blames and guilt trips her about every mishap that HE causes, making himself look like her benevolent savior and making her feel like she would be lost without him, confusing her with his psychobabble. on top of all that, he's forcing her to do this hacky show called Ghost House where she "hunts ghosts" or whatever. the houses he's been helping newly-deads with in his day job as a bio-exorcist (now with a fleet of employees,) she's "hunting" those ghosts now. it's so dumb. it never works. beetlejuice doesn't even know what the hell she's doing, she's phoning it in most of the time and she knows she's become a sellout. what happened to that "strange and unusual" girl who stood up for her ghost friends when those suits wanted to profit off of them back in winter river?

he needs to bring that back. he's the only one who can.

in his mind, beetlejuice has already rewritten the events that transpired. in his mind, lydia has been his wife this entire time, it's just, y'know, one of those open long distance relationships and she doesn't always remember him, but that's okay. in his mind, they share a psychic bond that allows her to sense his presence or see him in her dreams from time to time. he's got nothing to be jealous about, because other men can't compare. no one else can match what they have.

sure, part of him knows he's lying to himself a little bit. but he's already clung to this idea; these past 30 years wouldn't make sense otherwise. he's in love with lydia deetz. this isn't insane of him to say at all. and if it is, well, you know what they say, love makes you do batshit crazy things.

it's not that complicated, no matter what they say you'll never meet another me it's not that difficult to get my head around i'll never meet another you

the end

don't trick me into writing a fanfic again

[submattenthusiast]

" ALTERNATE UNIVERSES " a @submattenthusiast and @luvs4matt collab

— PART ONE 𖠵 IN PUBLIC

synopsis — in which, sub!matt and dom!matt both end up in the same scenarios, but how differently are they handled?

pairing — sub!matt x dom!reader

content warnings — mean matt, public indecency, cum, humiliation, etc.

today was a very exciting day for you and your boyfriend, matt. the date that you'd planned in advance was finally here. the new restaurant in town had finally opened and you were the first to reserve a spot, once they started to take reservations. with clear schedules you and matt had a completely open day before ending the day with a nice date.

you shook matt awake, which he responded to with a groggily "what?" and turned his body to the opposite side, pushing your arms off. you sighed and tried again "matt cmon we've slept in enough already". matt stretched and he let out a rusty groan as he sat up. a frown already prominent on his lips, he looked at you with downturned brows. "why'd you interrupt my beauty sleep?" no laugh, no smile, not even a smirk graced your lips at his little joke, it wasn't a joke to you, you were saddened at the fact that he didn't remember your date today. "we have a date tonight, get up and get ready"

the car ride was dead silent, matt's forgetfulness this morning threw you off, and he was being stubborn and maintaining the attitude aswell. the tension settled in the air of the car as he drove towards the rural part of the city. your eyes followed your surroundings outside, watching in awe at the little shops that adorned each corner you past, the people walking and talking with smiles on there faces, and the restaurants that served all types of food.

"can we go there?" you ask, pointing at the shop that matt was pulling up to. matt looked to where you pointed and nodded, "yeah let me find parking". you started to gather your purse and wallet as matt backed into the parking space near the shop. once parked, you practically jumped out the car, ready to shop and explore the small shopping center. matt got out the car after you and waited on the sidewalk for you. you went to hold his hand that was closest to yours but he just shoved it in his pocket and continued walking, you sighed and caught up to him, settling on just locking arms.

the aisles of the small shop were filled with trinkets, stuffed animals, lego sets and more. the array of sonny angels on the cash register caught your eye, you pulled matt over to them immediately, gleaming over the small figures. he begrudgingly followed you to the counter, feet dragging against the floor. "matt look these were what i was showing you yesterday!". "they're still ugly but i'll buy them for you if it get's us out of this store" he deadpanned. your excitement faded at the negativity he just had to add on to his sentence. "don't be like that" you say, picking out the one with a strawberry hat and handing it to matt so he could pay.

the day passed by quickly, and soon it was time for your dinner date. matt was still giving snarky remarks and being overall negative and it was pissing you off, but you tried to be optimistic, hoping he was just hungry. he shoved the bags in the backseat of the van and hopped in the front seat, only pausing to look at you for directions for the restaurant. you dialed the directions in the carplay system for him. he pulled out of the spot and headed there. "at least it's only a twenty minute drive" you tried. he just chuckled and focused on getting you there safely.

"hi, yes i have a reservation under the last name sturniolo" you spoke with the lady at the host stand. she smiled and tapped a few buttons on the ipad before speaking, "sturniolo for two?, follow me" you both nodded and followed her to a dimly lit corner with a booth made for two. she placed the menu's down in their respective places and moved so you could sit. "your server will be with you shortly, enjoy!" you thanked her and she walked away. matt scanned the menu while waiting for services, flipping through the pages without batting an eye. "this shit all sounds gross, i hope they have a special or something". you stopped browsing the menu to look at your boyfriend with disgust, kicking him under the table too. "stop being an ass, i'm sick of it" you warned for the last time.

the food came out with no complaints and you were enjoying it, even though it was completely different from your usual. matt on the other hand wasn't having it, he spit the food out into a napkin, complaining very loudly about how gross it was and that he should've just gotten fast food. you dropped the fork and grit your teeth, anger boiling "bathroom now". matt stopped messing with his food and froze, knowing he fucked up. he shook his head immediately "no wait".

you pulled him into the family bathroom and slammed him against the door. your hand found his mouth before speaking, not wanting to heard a word of what he had to say. "you're unbelievable, all i wanted to do was spend time with you and have a nice date today— but no, you just had to ruin it by being a smart ass and being stuck up all day". he muttered unintelligible apologies once you finished, trying to make up for his actions. you laughed for the first time today, shocked by his audacity. "now you're sorry?" head swaying in plea, he begged "don't punish me please". you smacked your teeth in response, "in the stall now"

your hips met his roughly as you rode him, skin slapping filled the large stall as the toliet seat moved under your bodies. matt chewed on his bottom lip as he remembered your previous threat to his orgasm if he wasn't quiet. your grip on his shoulders gave you little stablity, your angry movements required balance to give full affect. "this what you wanted huh?, getting fucked in a restaurant full of people". he just nodded, he was afraid to speak, knowing he couldn't stay silent if he opened his mouth. "words, use em' " you grunt "i did i did mama-a" he moaned towards the end.

his moan bounced off the walls of the bathroom, surely being heard outside by other diners. his cheeks turned red at the realization. "guess you don't wanna cum". hips still persistent as you chased your own orgasm now. matt jerked up at the mention of a denied orgasm. his tip hit your cervix with his rapid movement. "i'm sorry i'm sorry please let me cum" he whined. groaning at the new feeling, you nodded and put a finger over his lip, shushing him.

muffled moans came from the both of you as your combined climaxes approached. sweat dripped down your chest as you gave a few good bounces before letting yourself go, you let out some nasty sounds as you did. "cum please" matt begged, cock twitching within you. you pried open his lips before letting him fall over the ledge, wanting him to be anything but quiet now. shrill moans ripped from his throat as he came. the grip on you tightened as his body convulsed under you. the mix of liquids spilled out of you as you stood up off of him.

you used his discarded black pants as a towel for the remaining cum. despite his protests you made wear the now stained garment. you redressed and got yourself together. matt whined he got dressed fully, the cum falling right on his crotch. you trailed behind him as you excited the now steamy bathroom. embarrassment flooded him as he walked out with cum stained pants, and knowing the whole restaurant heard his moans. he held his head down as people started to give him odd looks. you just smiled and headed towards the table. ready to enjoy your dinner now.

a/n : surprise!! divider by issyh3ll

[212-apricity]

siren songs and stolen kisses, intro

ssask masterlist main masterlist

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

The salty breeze hit my face as I sprinted down the docks, sneakers pounding against the weathered wood as I bolted toward the clearing where my friends had disappeared only moments before. I could hear the distant shouts of cops behind me—orders barked out and the sound of feet scuffling on gravel. It wasn't the first time I'd found myself in trouble here on the Outer Banks, but it was the first time I’d been with the Pogues and not my family.

This was your world, split down the middle. Your family name made you a Kook, through and through. A Cameron, with everything it implied. Your father never let you forget it. But in the past few years, ever since Kiara dragged you along to some gathering on the Cut, you found yourself weaving between worlds, living on the edge of both Kook privilege and the carefree rebellion of the Pogues. Somewhere along the way, they'd just accepted you, like you'd been with them all along.

And then there was JJ Maybank.

You'd noticed him right away—sun-bleached hair, mischievous grin, and an attitude that made him as unforgettable as he was unpredictable. But despite everything you'd been through together, you two were just friends. JJ was a bit of a hurricane, something wild and free that both thrilled and scared you, and you weren't exactly sure what to make of it. So, for now, you let it be.

"Y/N! Move!" Kiara's voice sliced through the humid air, snapping you out of your thoughts. I barely had time to dodge to the left as John B sprinted by, a smug grin on his face as he tossed something small and metallic over his shoulder—probably just to mess with the cops.

Laughing breathlessly, I caught up to the group, JJ pulling me into the Twinkie. His grin stretched across his face as he looked at me, eyes bright with adrenaline. "Look at you, Cameron, running from the cops. Almost like a real Pogue."

I scoffed, swatting his shoulder. "Careful, Maybank, or I'll show you what a real Pogue can do."

He held up his hands in surrender, still grinning, but I could see the gleam in his eye—the one that always seemed to challenge me, even if I didn't know what game I was playing yet.

The four of you took off down the road in the Twinkie, JJ making fun of the helpless officer trailing behind.

I had no idea where the night would take me, but that was the thrill of it, wasn't it?

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

little intro there as a taster of whats to come w this series, but im so so so exicted to get started w this- i already love it and i hope you guys do too, lmk what you think<33

[ai-the-broccoli]

in which Light and Misa discuss Celebrity RPF

(based on this thought)

Misa: *holding her laptop* Hey, Light. Light: What? Misa: *cheerfully* So do you think RPF is okay, or should we start killing people for writing it? Light: ... What are you talking about? Misa: RPF! Real Person Fiction. It's like fanfiction of real people. Light: Oh. Well, that isn't a criminal activity. We don't need to kill people over fanfiction right now. It's still too early for that sort of thing. Misa: Oh, okay! *glances back to her laptop* --Wait! Why are there 5 shipping fics about YOU?! Light: Me? Oh, yes. People do seem to like to write wildly implausible fanfiction of all sorts about Kira. There are thousands of them online, you know. (Last time I checked, every single one that I could find was unbelievably horrible and out of character, and one of them even depicted me committing the illegal act of cannibalism, which is a crime and masterfully confirmed to me once again that the world is rotting and only I can save it. But now that I've confirmed the state of things for the time being, raising my blood pressure repeatedly for no purpose will not aid me in becoming the god of the new world, so I set a password to restrict my own access to the three fanfiction websites.) Misa: No! I mean, yes, duh, but that's old news. Of course I know thousands of Kira ship fics on every corner of the Internet. But these five are not fics about "Kira". They're tagged with "Light Yagami"! Light: ...What? Misa: Yeah. And-- Light: *frowning* Misa, hang on. Why are there 'RPF' fics about Light Yagami? Misa: That's what I was asking! And also-- Hey! I'm not shipped with you in any of them!! Why?! GRRRR this isn't fair! Light: Wait. You haven't told anyone about my relationship with you, have you? Misa: Of course not! Misa wouldn't forget about her promise to you! Light: Then it's just natural they wouldn't write about us. Misa: But I'm literally in this fic?! Yet you're dating-- wait-- EW! Him?! ALL him?! Light: ...Who? *finally turning around to look at Misa's screen* A-

Looking for the Golden Light: A Hideki Ryuga x Light Yagami fanfiction, by xoxo3gossipgirl we never go out of style: A Light Yagami x Hideki Ryuga fanfiction (ft. Misa-Misa), by xoxo3gossipgirl And I'll Write Your Name: A Light Yagami x Hideki Ryuga fanfiction (ft. Misa-Misa), by xoxo3gossipgirl Grave Repercussions: A Yagami Light x Ryuga Hideki fanfiction, by xanaxLOVE28 lightning strikes every time she moves: A F!Hideki Ryuga x F!Light Yagami fanfiction, by xoxo3gossipgirl

Light: *inhales sharply, horrified* HIDEKI RYUGA?! [Light Yagami takes -100 damage] Misa: Yeah! God, my new manager never stops trying to pair me with him. It's getting on my nerves! Light: ...What? Misa: I don't even understand why. I mean, everyone in the industry knows Ryuga swings that way! And I told her I got a boyfriend. Light: ....... Oh. Oh, yeah, uh, right. Yeah, of course. I knew those are all about that Hideki Ryuga. The popular actor. Right? Misa: Huh? Yeah. Of course? What other........ wait................OH. Ryuzaki -- L -- also used it as an alias one time, didn't he? Light: Exactly, Misa. Obviously, these fics had nothing to do with him, but I thought we should make sure for safety's sake. Just as I thought, all this is indeed about the actor. Misa: Huh... Well, yeah. *turns back to the screen* This is definitely about the actor... and this one too.... and-- Wait a second! *gasps* Why does this fic say that I'm a- a- Light: A what? Misa: Light! *inhales sharply, horrified* What is "l-l-lesbian Misa-Misa" supposed to mean here?! [Misa Amane takes -100 damage] Light: ...Huh. Hm. Misa: W-wait... *stares at the description* Misa is here in this fic because she's in a fake PR relationship with Hideki Ryuga here... and apparently we're doing it so we can both... *squints, incredulous* "pretend to be straight"... together??? Light: Oh? That's... ridiculous. Misa: RIGHT??? I mean, who would ever DO such a thing??? That's stupid. Light: ...............Misa, you said earlier that your new manager keeps trying to pair you up with Hideki Ryuga -- that actor Hideki Ryuga. And you say Ryuga -- I mean, the actor, the real Ryuga Hideki, not L -- he's known in your industry for being gay? Misa: Yeah- ...Wait. *gasps, horrified* My manager really thinks I'm a l-les... bian?! Because--I never told her who my boyfriend is?! What! *screaming* She can't be SERIOUS! [Misa Amane takes -100 more damage]

[maccreadysbaby]

Project: Killcode

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

I am in pain writing my boys like this

part thirty-two

❝ EFFORT ❞

MONDAY — JULY 30 — 5:02AM

AFTER AN EVENTFUL DAY OF NEVER COMING OUT OF BELLAMY’S ROOM, BENTLEY WOKE UP ON MONDAY MORNING LAYING BACK TO BACK WITH HIM. 

And the first thing he thought about was Bruce.

He wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell him everything so bad — about the parties and the nightmares and the teachers and Tyler and Chloe and the (maybe?) Secret Keeper and his father. He wanted to just lay it all out at his feet so he didn’t have to deal with it alone anymore… but he couldn’t.

Because if he did, Bruce would come get them and take them home, and someone else would move into the dorm. He’d never see any of them again.

He had to show Bruce that he could do this no matter what kind of problems he had — he was thirteen, and he could deal with his issues by himself. He didn’t always need his dad or his brothers to swoop in and do it for him; he was capable. More than capable.

So for now, he decided, not a Wayne in the world would know a thing. Would it be easier on him if they did? Sure. But getting whisked home to live a life of solitude while every other teenager in the world did whatever they wanted didn’t sound like an ideal situation. Plus, he was pretty sure he’d have lost his mind if he didn’t stop homeschooling when he did.

It was okay. He was okay. Everyone was okay. Everything was okay.

He’d just focus on school — it was a good enough distraction. He did have seven classes to survive, and nine friendships to maintain.

(Or eight, if… Asten didn’t want to talk to him.)

So he decided that’s what he was gonna do. Just be a teenager, and try his best to forget about all the existential dread stuff.

He woke up, blocked the number his father had called him from, and left Bellamy’s room to go get ready. 

It was only a little after five, so he was able to get into his room and do everything he needed without waking Asten up, which was nice — because he wasn’t sure where they stood. They hadn't talked at all since the fight, but Bentley did end up in bed arrest in Bellamy's room, so he guessed it wasn't really either of their faults.

He grabbed his bag and all of his things out of his room and left, shutting the door softly behind him. Should he go back in Bellamy's room? Or just sit and the dining table and do something silent?

That moment was about when his phone vibrated in his hand.

The name on the text message was Chloe Singh. (He'd changed it almost immediately after she gave it to him.) It said: Hey, meet me at the fountain at 530?

He didn't even have time to think about replying before a second one came: Or at breakfast, if you're not a psycho that wakes up at 430 for school like me.

Bentley hummed to himself, typing a quick response.

Just text me when you're ready. I'm already dressed and all.

He hardly had time to look away before another message blipped onto the screen. Oh, okay! I'm ready then, haha.

With a faint little smile and a shrug, Bentley made sure he slid his keycard into his phone case and made for the door, leaving the dorm with his schoolbag in the dark.

When he made it down the stairs and the several sidewalks it took to get to the fountain with the willows, Chloe was already there in her uniform with her bag. Her blonde hair was tied up halfway with a black ribbon, and pin-straight so it looked extra long. She glanced back at him when she heard him approach and sent him a friendly wave, which he returned.

Were they technically friends now? How many times did you have to cry in front of someone before you became friends?

With that on his mind, Bentley made for the bench she was on, dropping his bag near his feet and taking a seat next to her.

"Good morning," She said quietly, eyes focused on campus staff that seemed to be moving something into the art building across the way, past the willow trees.

"Good morning," He replied.

"Listen, I just... wanted to apologize for Saturday night," She sighed, looking down at her lap and deflating slightly, a stark comparison to how confident she looked in class or the halls. "I had a massive breakdown and it was really weird. I word vomited so many unnecessary details."

Bentley shook his head, glancing over at her. "Don't apologize. We all have our moments. I, in particular, have had at least thirty since I moved into Redwood."

Chloe glanced at him, furrowing her brow. "I never imagined Bruce Wayne's heir would have moments."

"I wasn't always his," Bentley shrugged, forcing his father's voice out of his mind, focusing on Chloe's brown eyes that were watching him. "Anyways, it's no problem. Breakdowns suck, but they suck even worse if you're alone."

She blinked and looked away, then back. "That's why I wanted to say thank you," She continued, glancing down at her hands, fiddling with her fingers. "For being there for me. I... can honestly say I don't have anyone else, as pitiful and attention seeking as that sounds. Living a double life is really hard when everyone only knows the fake part."

Bentley watched her breathe in deep, then blow it out. "Anyways, not to get all pitiful. I think I have the rumors handled on my end... my roommates were the only ones who knew I was going to meet you, and they swore they wouldn't say anything. What about yours?"

"Only two know I was gone, and they won't say anything," Bentley shrugged. "I think we're safe."

A beat passed.

"Thank God," Chloe exhaled, brushing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. "I'd never forgive myself if a chimp like Tyler Abbott got ahold of information like that. He'd have the entire campus believing whatever he wanted about us in, like, ten seconds."

Bentley didn't reply.

"Hey, you okay?" She continued, lowering her volume just a little. "You seem preoccupied."

Bentley shook his head in an attempt to shake himself back into the present and out of whatever routine of self loathing his mind was trying to put him in. "Yeah, just pretty drained. I've been really stressed lately."

"I'm sorry..." Chloe mumbled, and Bentley shrugged.

"It's not your fault," He continued, waving her off. "What about you? Were you okay after the other night?"

Chloe shrugged. "Same... just kinda drained. Emotions and their stupid, stupid existence have a way of doing that. But I'm feeling okay now. Practice for cheer tryouts starts after school today, so I pretty much am required to be okay."

A beat passed.

"So... did you and Layla end up having fun at the dance?" She questioned, looking across the way at the willows, a little hint of something he couldn't quite place filtering through into her words.

Bentley shrugged. "It was okay, but I... didn't go with her. I went with my roommates. To see the band that was playing."

"Oh," Chloe nodded to herself.

Another few moments of quiet passed.

"I... wanted to ask you something," Chloe started, turning to face him slightly on the bench, getting this... he wasn't sure. Embarrassed sort of look on her face. "You can totally say no if you want to; I know I'm not the easiest person to stomach."

"What is it?" Bentley questioned, turning toward her a little, too.

Chloe breathed in and out. "I know I was really mean and weird and stuff when we met, and I don't have any clever excuses to talk myself out of that. But I still... wanna be friends with you, if you want."

Bentley watched her nervously tuck a piece of hair behind her left her, her brown eyes straying down to the bench they were on.

"Yeah... I'd like that," Bentley replied, watching her anxiously pick at her nails. "But you... I don't want it to be some kind of ploy for your mom. If we're gonna be friends, I just... want to be friends. Not for anybody else."

"A hundred percent," Chloe nodded. "She won't have a clue I'm even talking to you anymore. She seems to have moved on in her searching for my perfect future divorce since I blew it with you already. Which means we're in the clear."

Bentley hummed in acknowledgment, glancing at her for a moment more before looking out at the trees again. "Can I ask an awkward question?"

"Sure," Chloe shrugged. "Can't be more awkward than me word vomiting my entire life's story, and my mothers."

Bentley found it in himself to chuckle at that. "I was just... wondering. Since you were only kinda acting, did you... mean what you told me? In class?"

Chloe glanced over at him quickly, her brow furrowed, before she seemed to realize what he meant. Her face flushed pink and she looked the other way. "That you're hot? I-I mean, yeah, I guess..."

Bentley didn't say anything.

"God, why can't I talk to you?" She mumbled, resting her elbows on her knees and dropping her head into her hands with a nervous little laugh. "It's so weird. Being, like, real. I always know what to say when I'm pretending."

Bentley shrugged. "Maybe you should... not pretend."

"I can't do that!" She said suddenly, sitting up. "My mother would disown me if I even thought about acting contrary to how she wants."

Bentley hummed. "How does she know what you act like here at school?"

Chloe looked up at him, a cringe spreading across her face. "She's the assistant Dean. She lives on campus."

Bentley blinked. "Oh..."

"Yeah..." Chloe shook her head. "I literally can't get away from her and her prying eyes through the school-day. That's why I wanted to talk to you now, before the day starts."

Bentley couldn't even imagine his father watching him like a hawk like that. When he first went to the Wayne's to, quote-on-quote, destroy them, he could hardly fathom the anxiety caused by the fact that his father may have possibly been watching. But Chloe's mom, putting her up to something out of greed, punishing her when she failed, watching her to make sure she was perfect... maybe they weren't so different after all.

Bentley didn’t say anything for a few minutes.

“So, are you liking it so far, here? I’ve heard Gotham is way different from New York,” She questioned. (How many times was he going to be asked that question?)

He shrugged. “New York is really cool. I like it here. It feels more… alive.”

Chloe nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “There’s so much that goes on, it's hard to get away from it all. That's why I like it so much here.”

Another beat passed.

“So, if it's not off limits, what are your powers?” Bentley questioned, glancing over at her. “I haven’t seen or heard anything about them.”

“Oh, I…” Chloe started, looking off at the trees ahead of them. “I… uh…”

Bentley could recognize discomfort when he saw it. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, I just…” She trailed off, breathing deep and holding it for a second, then exhaling. “I don’t have any.”

Bentley furrowed his brow. Wasn’t Redwood only for metahumans?

“My sisters do, and I have the genes for it, I just… they… haven’t appeared yet. My mom says that sometimes it takes a lot to make them show up,” Chloe shrugged. 

Bentley vaguely remembered hearing something about that when he was dealing with the whole Dr. Keene disaster -- it was like how Nico’s super speed only started to show up after he learned he was adopted, and only really showed up after he got kidnapped and put in a big machine that messed with his DNA. He remembered that metahumans finding their powers was… usually due to trauma.

He wasn’t quite sure what that said about the rest of the Redwood students. But maybe it was a good thing that Chloe didn’t have hers.

“I guess we’ll just have to see, then,” Bentley shrugged.

“I guess so…”

They fell into a comfortable silence, looking out at the willow trees in front of them.

Okay.. maybe Bentley had ten friendships to maintain.

--

When breakfast came around, Bentley sat across the table from Asten.

They didn’t say anything to each other. Bentley looked over at him a few times, but he was always talking to Rockie, or looking down at the table, or across the room. Valor was watching the both of them -- Bentley noticed his gaze a few times, calculating, contemplating -- but when Bentley’s eyes met his, it always switched to a supportive smile, faint enough to go missed by everyone else but present enough to be a little comforting.

Bentley and Asten didn’t talk at lunch, either.

And when music theory came around, Asten only spoke to Rockie, and Bentley only spoke to Vera, and in free period, Asten sat with Rockie, and Bellamy and Valor sat with Bentley. It was…

Weird.

He went to practice soccer with Varian and Koa, and they talked about nothing and everything. He went to dinner, where Asten deliberately ignored him even though they were within whispering distance from one another. And then he did his homework at the dining table, and listened to his roommates talk, and hung out, and texted Chloe, and went to bed without saying anything to his best friend who was sleeping one bunk away.

As wrong as it felt, Bentley was the one who’d been right. Asten was a hypocrite and all the lovely things Bentley had said in his anger fueled haze. So, for this one time, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t going to allow himself to apologize.

If Asten wanted to talk to him, Asten was going to have to put in the effort.

And as far as Bentley could tell, right now, he didn’t care very much.

--

tag list that never works lmao

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere

@skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy

[wonder-worker]

I've been thinking about the tragedy of Elizabeth Woodville living to see the end of her family name.

I don't mean her family with her husband, which lived on through her daughter and grandson. I mean her own.

Her sisters died, one by one, many of them after 1485. When Elizabeth died, only Katherine was left, and she would die before the turn of the century as well.

All her brothers died, too. Lewis died in childhood. John was executed. Anthony was murdered. Lionel died suddenly in the peak of Richard's reign, unable to see his niece become queen. Edward perished at war. Richard died in grieving peace. For all the violence and judgement the family endured, it was "an accident of biology" that ended their line: none of the brothers left heirs, and the Woodville name was extinguished. We know the family was aware of this. We know they mourned it, too:

“Buy a bell to be a tenor at Grafton to the bells now there, for a remembrance of the last of my blood.”

Elizabeth lived through the deposition and death of her young sons, and lived to see the end of her own family name. It must have been such a haunting loss, on both sides.

[enobariasdistrict2]

hello sorry for just randomly dropping in but i'm thinking about the treemina-haysilee-clato pipeline since you posted about it but i'm a book treemina person so i'm thinking about how cato and haymitch both had to watch clove and maysilee die but treech got there too late and only came across lamina's body so he had to live knowing he didn't get there in time to hold her hand when she was dying and. i had to share. ok bye

i saw the content of this ask and i was immediately like "okay new thg friend 🧡 ". no you're so right!! i don't remember what happened with book treemina which is why i went by the movie instead. but ahhhh, both extremes are awful its literally a which foot do you want to shoot yourself in dilemma

because like, do you want to watch the girl you've grown to care about, the one who's your favorite person in this hellhole and your partner and ally and the person you trust, the one who reminds you of home, die in front of your eyes and all you can do is comfort them? or even worse you don't have to watch the death happen but you come across the body later and you get this sense of everything is too late now, you didn't get there in time and none of it matters and your regret doesn't matter because it's too late to take anything back.

anyways glad to see my tragic district partner's pipeline agenda is spreading!!

[hauntingblue]

Jayce telling vi she won't make it on her own.... okay mr. projector...

[cheswirls]

oh the hotel arc is starting it is here

[chuluoyi]

✎ heaven's fury

- gojo satoru x reader

sometimes you forget that your husband has burdens as the strongest sorcerer alive. when he goes back home from a bad day and you're the first person he comes contact to, you're made aware of it once again

genre: angry!gojo, a bit of hurt with looots of comfort and fluff !! it’s self-indulgent too🤭

note: i knooow i said i'll post gojo angst next, but i forgot i have this in backburner too so... this hurt/comfort goes first :') based on an anon's request. loosely takes place after baby!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

“Sukuna's vessel is a threat— he must be executed as soon as possible!”

“The more we put this off, the greater the risk he poses to society!”

“Gojo, you can't delay his sentence any longer—!”

Weak. All of them. They always make excuses. Trying to pin blame on someone else.

The jujutsu world he lives in… is wretched. Gojo Satoru thought he knew that well already, or at least knew enough to not get riled up over it.

Apparently not.

“Gojo-sensei? You look scary...”

Typically, he would mask his clear disdain with sharp-witted jibes, but he reached his limit this time. Especially since they had been pressuring him relentlessly to execute Itadori Yuji for at least five times a week, each week.

. . .

“Satoru, oh, you're home already!”

At the end of it all, he went home with the worst of moods. It served as a reminder—of his deep-seated contempt for weakness and how burdensome he found the task of protecting the insufferable to be.

“Satoru...?”

And it's because of their weakness that Suguru—

“Satoru, are you—?”

“Just fucking shut it!”

And that was when he saw you, standing before him with wide eyes, cradling your—his—precious baby in your arms, who was sound asleep.

“Huh…?”

Satoru immediately tensed up, realizing his mistake. And what hit him even harder was— is that a flicker of hurt he saw flashing across your face?

If so, then you quickly blinked it away because in the next instant, your face lit up with a warm smile— kind of forced, to his dismay. “Welcome home, Satoru.”

Something inside him churned, his heart started to ache, and there was a bitter taste in his mouth then.

There you were, as accepting as ever, and he cherished you for it.

But not tonight. Not for this. You didn't deserve any of his misplaced resentment.

Damn it. Damn it all!

In response, he offered you a subtle nod and headed to the bathroom, thinking a shower might help clear his foul mood away.

Contrary to what Satoru might think, you didn't really hold anything against him.

You were surprised, yes, because he was usually such a ball of energy even when he got back from intercity missions, but more than the hurt, you would understand if now, he was pissed some way or another.

Your husband is still a human. He is entitled to be upset on some days.

After ensuring your son was comfortably asleep in his cot, you returned to your bedroom to find Satoru already in bed, facing away from you. Hmph... now that you thought about it, this silence between you was unacceptable.

“Satoru.” You poked his side, but he didn't budge and still had his eyes shut. You arched an eyebrow. “Satoru? You can't be asleep.”

“…” No answer. Okay, let's try something else.

“Honey, talk to me? Hmm?” you decided to swallow the heat on your face as you addressed him more intimately. Mind you, you didn't usually call him that. He was the one in charge of pet names.

“…” This shithead. That's it.

“Satoru, my tummy hurts—”

“What?” In an instant, he flipped over, abruptly sitting up. “What hurts—”

Seizing the opportunity, you tugged him by the neck, and both of you tumbled onto the bed, with him landing on top of you. Satoru instinctively held himself up and cushioned the back of your head with his hand so you wouldn’t crash into the headboard—his blue eyes wildly flickering, searching for any sign of discomfort or harm.

“You good?” he made a face upon realizing your ruse.

“You won’t talk to me otherwise,” you noted with a hint of annoyance. But then your eyes softened into a concerned frown. “Satoru… what’s wrong?”

Once again, Satoru felt hollow. You were worried and it reached him. “It’s nothing,” he replied, looking away, trying to downplay his fury.

You pulled him close, his head against your chest, and though he was stiff and taken aback at first, he released a reluctant sigh and instinctively snuggled closer, finding comfort in your embrace.

“There, there…” you soothed with a smile, gently running your fingers through his hair. “Feel better now?”

He let out another sigh against you, returning the hug and nuzzling his face against your chest. His body heat enveloped you like a blanket.

And after a while...

“...’m sorry for yelling at you...” he muttered with such regret it made your eyes widen. “Didn’t mean it.”

The slight prickle in your heart dissipated at once, hearing his muffled voice.

“Mm-hmm, I know.”

“Really.”

“Mmm, really, really.”

He held you a little tighter, breathing in your scent, and you kept stroking his head. He looked so despondent it warmed your heart, and made you want to pet him. “Our baby loves being held like this too,” you giggled fondly. “You big baby… you’re just like him.”

Your husband let out a soft grunt against your chest, exhaling deeply.

“Whenever you’re ready, talk to me, yes?”

And so after several more pats on his head, Satoru finally told you everything, about how the higher-ups were relentlessly pressing him to put an end to Yuji, the new kid he recently enrolled to the jujutsu school.

“They're just some paranoid old fools—”

“Mm-hmm.”

“—stinky, cringey, looks depressed most of the time—”

“Heh— now that's just plain disrespect.”

“Yuji is just clueless and just has a lot to learn,” Satoru grumbled sullenly. “They didn't even teach him a thing and incapable to— how dare they? To keep him ignorant and then murder him?”

...oh.

And at that moment, you found clarity. Why he got so worked up, why he got irate this time whereas he was usually insensitive.

First, it was because of your tragic youth. No one protected Haibara from his unfortunate incident and was there for Geto when he needed it the most—which still haunted him to this day.

And secondly, because he himself is a father too. No one deserves their youth being taken away. That has been his moral compass, and the sense grows even stronger ever since the baby was born.

It made something inside you flutter.

“Satoru...” you breathed out, smiling, squeezing him affectionately. “You’re ... a kind person.”

“Huh?”

“You take it upon yourself to mentor those kids,” you mused. “Just look at Megumi and Yuta; they've turned out just fine.”

Truthfully, Satoru didn't consider himself as kind as you made him out to be. At times he felt like he was doing it because it was right, sometimes he thought it was for fun, and at other times, he simply didn't feel like seeing more deaths or wrong paths. And he was sure if you had asked Megumi whether he was a good teacher or not, the grumpy boy would only roll his eyes.

But then, just as he looked up at you, the prettiest smile blossomed on your face, and you said to him—

“And as your wife, I’m... proud of you.”

The way you sincerely told him that made his breath catch in his throat, and his heart pound a little faster.

The woman who has become his everything. This unabashed, pure love you show him.

“Sweets, I—” he suddenly rose, back to on top of you. But his voice faltered, remembering the way he coldly snapped at you earlier. “I...”

You looked up at him innocently. And he swallowed the shame because he had to tell you too.

Because you were so, so incredibly precious to him, and he wanted you to know that.

“…love you,” he mumbled, his beautiful eyes meeting yours with no hesitation. His cheeks were burning, tinted with a shade of pink—and you out of all people knew best that him being embarrassed meant as good as him not being horny—

But before you could point it out, he leaned down towards you, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. There was no trace of the man who was hungry for your body— it was just a long, chaste kiss that contained his feelings for you.

And when he pulled back, both of you were panting slightly, trying to catch your breath. Then, he pursed his lips, his eyes glittery—somehow reminding you of your baby's face just before he cried out for his milk.

“I wanna pay for my sin. Wanna cuddle you too.”

And so you let him. He held you close, his arm under your head and you traced lazy lines on his chest, feeling contented and somewhat giddy.

“You feel that bad, huh?” you chuckled, noticing his continued gloominess.

“I am,” he puffed out his cheeks before pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Because if anyone else dares to tell you off like that, I'll wreck them on the spot.”

“Hmm, how romantic. But come to think about it... you did look a little scary though...”

At that moment, he felt his heart drop, his eyes instantly rounded in alarm, looking at you with dismay.

“No, no, I'm not scary! Wifey, I'm your devoted and loving husband!”

Epilogue

Your morning started with your baby's cries. When you glanced over, Satoru was gone from your bed already. Curious, you made your way to the baby's room, and what you saw there caused you to raise an eyebrow.

"Satoru... what are you...?"

He turned to you with an expression so heartbroken as he rocked his wailing baby. "He keeps crying, I don't know why..."

However, your attention was drawn more to his disheveled appearance. Messy hair, slitted eyes as if he hadn't brushed off sleep, and most of all, the dark eyebags under his eyes.

"Uh, Satoru... give him to me."

When he did, your baby calmed down almost instantly, his sobs turning into light sniffles, and your husband could only scratch his head in confusion.

"Why...? When I tried to look at him, he cried even harder—"

"...no offense, but if I were a baby and someone who looks like a panda holds me up, I'd get scared and cry too."

Satoru let out a theatrical gasp, clutching his chest as he hovered over your baby—

"Nooo! Papa didn't mean to scare you—!"

...but to his horror, your baby turned away from him, hiding his face in your chest instead.

[ozzgin]

hear me out okayy imagine house full of obsessed monster x clueless human reader

I hear you alright. 👀 Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, mildly NSFW, obsessive behavior, stalking

You had been selected for an exchange program organized by the monster realm: one human to live with monsters, and one monster to walk among humans. They called it a cultural exchange.

Of course, you only found out about it after being kidnapped from your apartment. You thought you'd been taken by some mad serial killer and begged for mercy, until they finally dropped you before a regular looking office desk.

"Why the hell is the human so pale? What did you do?"

The monster lackeys fidgeted and mumbled some barely audible excuse. A slime creature poured you some coffee, and you gawked in confusion. The horned beast at the other side of the table seemed to realize his mistake.

"...They didn't tell you anything, did they?"

You shook your head in denial. To their defense, they'd never dealt with a human before. They must've gotten too flustered in the process, forgetting to speak. Or something along that line. You waved your hand, accepting their explanation, then probed for more details.

The whole ordeal is really mostly meant to satisfy their own curiosity towards humans, but they obviously couldn't express it so crassly to you. It's an exchange, you see. You, too, get to learn about monster customs, from the comfort of a shared home.

Thus, for the indefinite future, you'll be living with several creatures as roommates. You have been provided with your own room, naturally, in order to ensure your privacy.

Then again, how much privacy can one possibly get when surrounded by horny, deliriously infatuated creatures? Your underwear occasionally goes missing. You swear you feel watched every time you shower. And even more bizarre, you sometimes wake up to find a sticky film covering your pillow.

It must be anxiety. It was such a sudden change, after all. That's what the monstrous mates tell you in a sweet, caring voice. You appreciate their involvement, completely oblivious to the perversions taking place behind your back. Even the organizer couldn't foresee the unhinged thirst these beasts have for you. He didn't intend to ship you off as a wet dream to a pack of monsters.

"Is this alright, you think?" you ask, doing a little spin in the living room in order to show the chosen outfit from different angles.

The monsters shift slightly in their seats. If they were to be entirely transparent, you'd look much better stuffed with their appendages, pressed between them, coated in their fluids.

"Looks great", one of them manages to mumble, somewhat feverish. He let his mind wander too much.

"By the way, what were you doing last night? I could hear you saying my name repeatedly from your room."

The creature visibly tenses up.

"I was...I was practicing. It's a little hard to pronounce your name, you know? Being human and all..."

"Why didn't you just say so? I can help you with it. We'll practice until you finish properly", you declare with an innocent smile.

God. Keeping their hands off is becoming harder by the day.

[More Monsters]

[kamitv]

▷ Second Time?

Synopsis . Part One. When you get paired with the campus asshole, Sukuna, for a project, the last thing you expect to learn about him is that he’s a damn virgin. Nor did you expect to be the one to change that. / Pairing . virgin!Sukuna x fem!reader / Content . afab!reader, nipple play (m!receiving), pussy slapping, non-curse college au, dirty talk, pet names, degrading, continued porn w plot, teasing, taunting, filth, creampie, Sukuna’s kinda soft here and there, etc. / wc . 4.4k

A/N: to those that requested a part two for virgin!sukuna <3 [MDNI]

“No? Oh c’monnn, they’re just piercings,” You whine as your legs remain sprawled out over Sukuna’s muscular thighs.

Your panty-clad cunt was throbbing over his saliva-slicked semi-hard cock, due to your recent actions, and yet here Sukuna was still trying his very best to figure out a way out of this situation. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go further with you— he was just nervous.

Not that he’d ever say that out loud though. Admit you’ve made him nervous? Oh please, in what universe?

Sure, you made him cum prematurely but that’s not his fault. No one told you to have such a slutty ass mouth. 

Back to the present though, as you gaze down at him with those stupidly pretty eyes of yours, batting your lashes pleadingly whilst you await for the man to change his answer. It was simply unfair of him to have nipple piercings and not show you. It’s the least he could do after the head you just gave him, right?

“No, it’s not the ‘least I can do’,” Sukuna huffs. It’s then that you realize you’d spoken your thoughts aloud but, in a way, you’re actually glad you did so, “You’re not seeing shit, now get off of me.”

The pout that presents itself on your face is practically immediate, “C’mon ‘Kuna, I won’t touch them. I jus’ wanna see,” You coo softly, tilting your head to the side as if to convince him, “Please?”

One simple word and his tip was wet with precum yet again. Sukuna swears he hates you. He hates the way you're looking at him right now, the way you're seated so perfectly on top of him, and the way he forgets how the hell he even got into this position with you in the first place.

Didn't he come over here to finish a project? Not have sex with you.

And yet, he can't find it in himself to say no to you again. That damn word you said, it did something to him. Sukuna's not sure what or why but his mouth is moving on its own, almost instinctively, "You wanna see them?" He sighs.

You're nodding, slipping your hands down to the hem of his shirt, "Yeah. Promise I won't touch."

"Tch. I..." Sukuna grits his teeth and you can see a pretty vein decorating his skin along his sharp jawline as he glances away for a moment, "I want you to beg me again."

Although you're a bit taken back by his request, you're quick to lean forward a bit and bite your lower lip, "Please?"

He ignores the word leaving you lips, his cock springing to life once more despite his attempt at leaving you unanswered. Given his body's reaction to you, all you can do is smirk before you're leaning down slightly and pressing your lips to his jaw.

"Pretty please, Sukuna?" You purr, warm breath hitting his now overly tense skin, "I promise I'll be good. Won't lay a finger on you unless you want me to."

His head slumps back against the couch and he inhales sharply at your soft touch sliding under his shirt, steadily working it up as the black fabric bundles up against your hands.

Then you're at his neck, sucking on his skin, rolling your tongue over him, shifting your hips forward against his cock and he simply groans. "F-Fucking, fine." Sukuna huffs, annoyed out of his ever-loving mind at whatever control it is you seem to have over him.

He hates you. He swears he hates you. Everything about the way your hands quickly tug his shirt up over his head, tossing the fabric elsewhere as you set your greedy eyes on his chest, the way your eyes widen at how flushed his skin is, and the sight of your tongue swiping over your lips as soon as you set your sight on his nipples.

Such pretty contrasting metal decorated his very pretty swollen nipples. So flushed with shades of pink and red, itching to be touched— just one flick and you knew he'd let out the most heavenly sound. The problem was convincing him to let you touch his nipples.

They were so damn tempting though, you swore you were drooling at the sight. God, you just wanted to reach out and-

"No," Sukuna rasps out. Your eyes snap up to his face and your pussy throbs at his expression.

He's beyond embarrassed. His eyes almost look glossed over with how desperate he was for you to stop looking at him. And yet he was so pouty and grumpy too, plump lips pulled into the cutest little frown at how hungry you were looking at him, his breathing unsteady all over again, and his cock felt twitching wildly beneath you.

You smirk, "'No'... what?"

"No, you cannot touch them," He's slow to clarify that, having seen right through those greedy eyes of yours, "You wanted to see and you've seen so-"

"I can make you feel good though," You purr, leaning in close to him all over again. "Jus' let me-"

"No," Sukuna mutters sternly. Then his hands are meeting your hips and his grip alone makes you flinch.

His touch is filled with intent as he slides his hands back to your ass and gives you a nice and firm squeeze, tugging you against him and making you gasp at the way his dick twitches right against your cunt. Your hands go to his shoulders to stop yourself from being pulled flush against him and he gazes dead up into your eyes.

How does one look so needy and yet commanding at the same time? It was like Sukuna told you thousands of words through his gaze alone. Maybe it was his very apparent physical need for you, or maybe it was just how attractive he is when aroused but fuck his look had your body hot all over.

Sukuna lets out a small breath of air before he drops his raspy tone even lower to a whisper, "Fuck me," He utters, feeling the reaction your cunt has to his words and cracking a cocky little smirk, "Fuck me, and you can touch me as much as you wish to."

You gulp thickly. Did you forget how to speak for a moment because all you do is open your mouth and it was like no words were even coming to your brain. His gaze was to intense and starved, large hands playing with the fat of your ass while he lifts his hips up slightly.

Then you gasp again, his thick tip was pressing right against your needy hole through the few layers of clothing that remained and you felt drunk off of your own arousal. Nodding and whispering in return, "O-Okay," Your hands slide around his neck and you lean in until your lips are meeting his again.

And if you were drunk off of your arousal then he was fucking high off of his own— feeling faded out of his mind with the way he leisurely moves to undress your lower half as he kisses you like he's done so a thousand times before, sliding his tongue into your mouth, swallowing up your moans, sucking on your lower lip, and undressing you all in one go.

Hell, for a second you forget the man is a damn virgin.

And as if to combat with that— you feel like a damn virgin once you start sinking your slippery walls around Sukuna’s thick cock. Gasping against his lips and feeling his fingertips curl into the skin of your waist, his jaw-dropping and lips quivering against yours as he lets out the most guttural groan he’s ever uttered, and both of your eyes fluttering at the connection of his body to yours. 

Sukuna’s deeply shaded red eyes are hazy on yours as you sink down on him. His mind is turning to mush and he swears he’s about to pass the fuck out. It could’ve been the way your face looked as your cunt greedily sucked in his cock, or how tight your walls clamped down on him but, either way, Sukuna felt hot all over. Dizzy with lust and faded off of everything that’s you.

Every inch of you, the feel of your squeezing wet pussy enclosing around his aching cock, that breathy squeak of his name leaving your lips, and then your fingers grazing his chest-

Sukuna’s brows twist up and his entire body flinches instinctively. Hips bucking up slightly, large hands urging you further down, and shaky sound escaping his wet blushing lips— he’d officially lost it. 

He looked so damn pretty doing so as well, not that you’d ever tell him that (you’ve embarrassed him enough for the time being). Those damn eyes of his were all glossed over, his bottom lip was shaking as a sexy-pitched gasp escaped his throat, and his hands held onto you for dear life whilst he bottomed out.

His fat cockhead kissing your cervix with little to no movement had you panting heavily while you kept your eyes low on his. “‘Kuna,” You feel his cock twitch desperately inside you and you toy with one of his sensitive nipples in between your index and thumb, “Y-You’re so-“

“Shut up,” He groans, and then he’s kissing you— desperately, hungrily-, starved. He knew another word from you would have your cunt stuffed full of his cum within seconds.

And as much as he wanted that, as much as he knew that’d be the end result of all this, he did not want to make yet another fool of himself. Though, the way your fingertips constantly flick over his pierced nipples makes him fucking whine into your mouth, a heavy grunt following after the sound as if to cover it up.

The hands your waist urge your body up, dragging your slicked walls up along his cock before allowing gravity to slam you back down. God the way you moan his name makes his knees feel weak. You were making him, as a whole, feel so utterly weak.

It wasn’t long before you were picking up a steady pace on top of him, your breaths shared with his and his eyes not once leaving yours. Sukuna was such a silent commander, that gaze of his told you everything, testing-, no, daring you to look away from him. He didn’t even know what it was about eye contact but he craved it so desperately.

Your gaze made his cock so stupidly hard, so much so that he just wanted to flip you over on this stupid couch of yours and-

And then he was. Sukuna doesn’t even register he’s repositioned with you until you let out the prettiest little whimper and your eyes roll back as he, almost experimentally, thrusts his heavy cock deep past your plush pussy lips. 

What brings him back into the moment is that sound of you and the way you’re choking out his name, “S’kuna, f-fuck,” You almost hate that he’s taken control because you’ve lost your teasing of his chest, “Why’d you-, ngh-,” You’re cut off completely when he drags his hips back so torturously slow before rolling his hips down into you.

Shaking his head thoughtlessly, “Shut up,” Sukuna huffs again as he presses his bulky weight down against you, folding you into the meanest mating press and making you let out a filthy mewl at the sheer stretch of his girthy cock. “Please,” He sounds almost breathless, that plea of his hardly even audible, “Jus’ be quiet f’me.”

Your jaw hangs open and you’re simply gaping up at the man with stupid, cockdrunk eyes. Something about feeling and watching him learn how to please you was probably more pleasurable than the sex itself. Which is saying an awfully lot because even though he didn't know what the hell he was doing, whatever he was doing, he was doing it right.

All you can do is wrap your arms around his neck and tug him closer, moaning his name softly every time his tip nudges into that mushy spot inside you. Sukuna lets out a low hum when he feels your nails claw at his back suddenly.

Then the cocky bastard has the nerve to fucking smile at you. Almost as if he enjoyed the pain of your nails scratching at his back hard enough to leave marks…

Because, of course, then he’s fucking you faster, harder, deeper. So determined to learn what you like, to learn your body inside and out (literally), and to have you mark up his back more than the dark ink that decorates his skin currently.

“Y’feel so fuckin’…” He can hardly even speak as he just grows addicted to pushing his cock in and out and in and out. That sloppy sound of your cunt squelching and wetting up his cock over and over again-, fuck he couldn’t get enough of it. “S-So fuckin’ good,” Sukuna’s voice almost softens as he shifts his lips to your ear, “Oh fuck, wanna…” His words trail off, a deep shade of blush coating his cheeks.

You can’t help but grow that never-ending urge to tease him, moving your lips to his ear, “Wanna what?” There was a slight shake in your voice but that didn’t save him from his cock throbbing at the sound of your voice alone.

“Hahh… wanna-, agh, wanna make you cum,” Sukuna admits begrudgingly. He sounded so ridiculously embarrassed saying that out loud but he was far too pussydrunk to care right now.

Thrusts growing heavier as if he were searching for a specific spot inside you, his eyes softening as he shifts to hover his face over yours once more, and his groans making your stomach churn with butterflies. Hell, you almost do exactly that of what he’s requested based on the sound of desperation in his tone alone.

Sukuna’s usually such a big, mean, sometimes stoic man, and yet here he was, silently requesting your assistance. 

He is only a virgin after all.

“Not anymore,” He gruffs, catching you by surprise as you render the fact that those words left your lips. “C’mon, tell me what to do.”

Again, Sukuna swears on his life he hates you. He hates the way you’ve made him so weak, the way your cunt is so deliciously warm inside, the way you moan his name-

Fuck, he hates you.

“‘Kuna,” You whisper as you slide one of your hands from around his neck to slip to his hand and guide him, “My clit. You gotta-“

Your breath is caught in your throat all over again. You were trying to guide him just like he wanted you to but Sukuna was far too quick of a learner, swatting his thick thumb around in search before his ears twitch at the way your voice gets stuck in your throat.

“Here?” He has the nerve to whisper gently, “Rub here, right? Y’like that?” Sukuna asks as he matches his thrusts with the flick of his thumb, drinking in the way your back arches up off of the couch and your eyes roll back.

You’re nodding, “Yes yes-, r-right there ‘Kuna, fuck…”

His eyes rake over your face all over again and then he’s doing that thing where he speaks without thinking, “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

Of course, those softly uttered words pull you out of your cockdrunken stupor for only a moment, “H-Huh?” You breathe out as your eyes meet his.

“I hate you,” Sukuna lies straight through his teeth, “Hate how pretty you look beneath me,” He’s babbling at this point, picking up his pace and trying to angle his cock into somewhere specific, “How fuckin’-, god you’re squeezin’ me s’tight, hahh… h-how you sound moaning my name, taking my cock.” With that last sentence comes a particularly harsh thrust.

Your nails scrape at his back again and he moans in pleasure. Gloss covers your eyes as he finally finds that spot that has you seeing stars, “Sukuna,” You moan sweetly, feeling him hit that very spot over and over and over again.

“Again,” He huffs, leaning down even closer and pressing more of his weight onto you, “Moan my name again, woman.”

“Sukuna,” You’re moaning without the need for his instruction. To hell if the man is a virgin, he knows how to use his cock.

What he doesn’t realize is how big he is in comparison to anyone else you’ve been with. Stretching you open with every thrust, fucking you ridiculously full of all his thick inches, knocking his dripping tip right against your sweet spot, making your legs tingle in numbness, and rolling skillful circles around your clit as if he’d practiced doing so before.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Sukuna rasps out, his eyes locked dead onto yours as usual.

He was so focused on you, so eager to make you cum. Obviously, he’d never felt anything like this before so he never wants it to end. And perhaps that’s the only reason why he hasn’t emptied himself into you yet. 

Every time you’re felt leaving another bright red mark on his back, he lets out a low hiss before flashing a smirk down at you, thrusts growing harder. Then there’s the way you just gape up at him, jaw dangling as you’re so clearly lost in pleasure, and pussy swallowing him in whole each time he fucks himself back into you.

And your little gasps of, “Feels s-so good Kuna, don’t stop.” Have him reeling back on purpose, pretending to mistakenly slip his cock out of you for a moment only to slap his fat cockhead against your needy hole and then push all of himself right back in.

With a smug expression on his face, “Don’t tell me what t’do,” He responds.

“I jus’ did,” You argue back all in one breath.

God, he- , “I hate you,” The words are leaving his lips yet again but he can’t stop driving his dick inside you. You’re so fucking warm, so welcoming for him, so honeyed and sweet inside. Hell, for a second he wonders what you’d taste like on his tongue— despite never even going down on someone before.

“Yeah,” You flash a fucked-out little smile up at him and your walls grip onto him tighter, making his brows twist up, “But you love fuckin’ me.” Your little whisper makes him shudder.

He nearly cums at that, releasing a strangled groan before he just nods almost obediently, “Uhuh.” Sukuna mumbles, his hate for you growing with every passing second.

There you are under him, still teasing him despite the expression of pleasure plastered across your face, “Yeah?”

“M-Mhm,” He grumbles in response.

He can’t help but just agree with you. Of course he adores fucking you. If anything, he doesn’t think he’d prefer it be anyone else. After watching your cute ass all composed every week in class, listening to the way you lecture him for not paying attention as if you actually care about him, watching you grow surprised today at the way he can get things done when he puts in an effort-

Shit, of course he wanted to see you like this— splayed out like a pretty little slut for him, gasping his name, looking him in the eye, and allowing him to fuck you. God, his mind is spinning. He can’t think at all.

So lost in his head, you’re left spasming below him because he’s still thumbing at your clit and his cock is as unforgiving as ever, “Sukuna,” His name rolls off of your tongue beautifully and he’s left in awe above you.

Tilting his head, “What?” Sukuna breathes as he’s pulled from his daze and back to the present.

“Make me cum,” You order so suddenly.

As that third word leaves those lips of yours, Sukuna smirks knowingly and he leans up a little just to angle himself better inside you. He glances down at your cunt, biting his lip at the sight of his cock bulging inside you, watching himself push in and out for a second before his smirk turns into a lazy little smile.

“Already did’,” He scoffs, flicking his eyes back up to you.

Your brows twist up, “Wha-“

“Are you that dumb when cock is inside ya’?” He utters meanly and earns an immediate squeeze of your gummy walls around his veiny shaft, “You came a few minutes ago, brat.” 

“I…” Your expression becomes dumbfounded and in an instant, you’re the one left embarrassed.

Which he finds all too cute, “Felt good tho’.” He comments smugly, looking back down to where you’re connected and tilting his head at the sight.

Fuck, he was so sexy above you. Even on his chest, bright red scratches decorated his skin. When did you do that? His nipples were still as flushed as his face and you wanted so badly to reach out and flick your fingers against them again.

Pouting, “Sukuna-“

“Do it again f’me,” The man cuts off.

You can’t even get a response out before he’s leaning down again, “I-“

This time you’re cut off by him pressing your legs together and against your chest, loving the pretty sight of you folded and bent to his will like this. All he can do is stare down and watch himself fuck you, seeing your swollen lips take in his fat length so fucking beautifully. It’s like you were made for him or something.

Your cunt only molds around his cock, sucking him in whenever he pulls out like you never wanted him to leave you. He could feel every throb of your pussy when he spoke to you, every squeeze of your warmth when he reached deeper than before, and fuck was he enamored by every second of it.

“Please,” He says breathlessly all of a sudden, itching to watch you cum on his cock this time around.

His begging is followed by him moving his hand back down to your pussy, his thumb sliding back in search of your clit. Rubbing those maddening little circles once he finds it, Sukuna focuses most of his attention on your body. Every little jump you make when he swats his thumb to the left, every pitch in your moan when he thrusts inside you at a certain pace— Sukuna soon smiles once he’s got you all figured out.

“Oh fuck,” You whimper, tossing your head back against the couch as your eyes loll to the back of your hand.

With that knowing smile on his face, the couch creaks with his rough thrusts inside you, “Stop makin’ me beg you for shit,” Sukuna grunts before gifting your throbbing pussy with a little smack, “Jus’ give it t’me.”

“Sukuna-, ah,” You’re choking at the sensation and your cunt narrows even more around him.

His toned pelvis smacks against you over and over, heavy balls hitting your ass with each shove of his fat cock inside your warmth, “Fuck,” The man heaves as he feels himself steadily growing addicted.

Why the hell didn’t he have sex with someone sooner?

“M’gonna cum,” You soon whine out to the man.

To which he clashes into you faster, feining for it, “Please, f-fuckin’ need it,” Sukuna groans before pressing down against you again.

His thrusts grow uneven and jagged, eyes rolling back when he feels you finally cumming around his cock for a second time. You were squeezing him so tight. All he could do was moan at how perfect you were.

“Shiit,” He huffs, his cock twitching wildly inside you before his mind goes completely blank, “I love you-“

Your brows immediately twist up, “Wha-“

And then he’s painting your walls white. Grunting, groaning, moaning-, hell, you name it and the sound was leaving his lips as he fucks his orgasm into you.

Then he’s babbling mindless little praises of, “Love this fuckin’ pussy,” Lost in filling you with his cum and listening to you whimper from overstimulation.

Gifting you with praise after praise about how beautiful you are under him like this, how much he adores his name rolling off your tongue. He can’t even fathom how much cum is spilling into you, velvety thick ropes painting your walls a creamy white to the point where it spills out of you and coats his hefty base with a filthy ring of white. 

All while he continued to praise you, going as far as thank you in quiet little whispers. God, he was out of his mind. He wasn’t thinking in the slightest, his mouth was just saying shit.

So much so that he’s barely lucid as his high comes down, doesn’t process a thing he said to you moments ago, and just lays there for a while with his cock resting inside you. All he can do is pant heavily as he rests his body on top of you, not yet pulling out and leaving his softened cock inside you.

You’re completely still beneath him for a while, trying to catch your breath as your legs feel temporarily numb. You couldn’t get those three words he spoke to you out of your head.

His tone was so damn soft and vulnerable, just replaying it in your head made you smile. Before he notices your expression though, you wipe the smirk off of your face and coo his name softly, “Sukuna…?”

“Don’t.” Is all he has to say to you. He was well aware of what he’d said to you.

He didn’t mean it, of course. He was simply… lost in the moment.

“Aww,” You purr, an obvious breathlessness to your tone, “You said you loved me cause I took your virginit-“

Sukuna lets out a mean groan before moving your legs apart so he can meet your eyes again, “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

You flash a pout to mock him, “Why? ‘Cause I didn’t say it back?”

His face is all different shades of blush but he still looks as mean and grumpy as ever, “No…”

“You sure?” You tease further.

All he can do is roll his eyes at you, “Fuck you.”

And, naturally, you only continue, “I think you did that already…”

Sukuna sighs, “Just.. Don’t tell anyone about this.”

“As long as you promise we’ll do this more often.”

“I-, hah,” He smirks, “What are you, some kinda cockhungry slut?”

“No…” Your eyes drag themselves elsewhere for a moment, “But for you, maybe.”

“Mh.” Sukuna hums deeply, an unavoidable smile spreading across his face, “I think I like that.”

“I think you love it-“

“M’gonna ‘love’ fucking the snarky responses outta’ your mouth in a second if you keep it up,” He says flawlessly.

All you can do is swallow down whatever it is you were going to respond to that with.

To which he smiles, “Uhuh, that’s what I thought.”

Edit after leaks: sorry not sorry to spoil: rip unckuna & fuck gege, bring back gojo NOW. I’m not playin 😂

[yazmarina]

walk me through it

for the love circuit series

—you're used to being flirted with in front of the camera. but something about franco is really doing you in.

franco colapinto (f1) x fem!reporter reader

warnings/notes: smut, unprotected sex (no condom, yes birth control), guided masturbation, lewd photography, lots of flirting, franco is shameless (naturally), some Spanish sentences and phrases

a/n: will resume hit play for a bit after this one! enjoy franco girlies mwa

Your job was simple enough. Well, for today, at least.

Stand in the media pen, gather statements, and piece together a couple of stories later that evening for publishing first thing tomorrow morning. All in a day's work, like all the other days before.

You've grown immune to the charms of rich, adrenaline-seeking men. Didn't take you too long, the illusion breaking as soon as any one of them opened their mouths. Some you tolerate more than others, but some you'd rather steer clear of completely.

This isn't to say that you've brushed all of them off. You might have agreed to a date here and there but nothing ever stuck, the nature of your jobs a bit too similar and all too different at the same time. You've given up on the prospect that you'll somehow end up with one of the many Formula 1 drivers you've interviewed and spoken to. And you've spoken to a lot. You've had this gig since you were shipped off fresh from uni and one too many 'What happened there?'s and 'Tell me about qualifying's can put a damper on the romantic side of things.

But someone new's in town. Well, er, new in the paddock. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't even a little bit excited.

He's charming, that much you can already tell. He walks into the media pen like he's done it thousands of times before and you have to actively suppress a smile as he walks over. Confidence is always a plus. For the interview, of course.

"Hola, Franco. Antes que nada, enhorabuena," you greet warmly, extending your arm over the barrier to place the microphone nearer to him. Hi, Franco. First of all, congratulations.

Franc's eyebrows shoot up, a wolfish grin settling on his face. "Oh. I thought this was an English interview?"

You smile back. "It is, but I know my way around Spanish, as well."

"Ah," Franco nods. "Gracias, _______."

"You know my name?" You ask, momentarily forgetting that you're being taped and recorded. You clear your throat, ignoring the quiet snicker from your cameraman.

"Yeah, I've seen you around and watched some of your other interviews," Franco confirms, a hand settling on his hip as he leans against the barrier, closer to you.

You can smell his perfume from where you stand.

"Thank you, I've heard and seen a lot about you as well," you respond, trying to return to your original train of thought.

"Which is why I want to ask you how it feels on your first day as a Formula 1 driver," you quickly follow. "Have you done anything special to prepare for this weekend? Other than the obvious, of course."

Another easy smile spreads across Franco's lips. "I've definitely added to my training and done some new things to prepare. I haven't done a full F1 weekend before so everything will be new."

"We definitely don't have reporters like you in the lower Formulas," he adds.

You feel a violent blush rip up through your neck all the way to your cheeks. As if the Monza heat wasn't enough.

"Well, I'm glad you could meet me here," you manage to get out.

The thing is, Franco isn't even the most attractive driver you've met. He's definitely up there, but not the most.

That's a discussion you have with yourself semi-weekly: ranking the drivers in terms of attractiveness, factoring in personalities and general attitudes towards the people around them, specifically the media.

Look, people love to shit on the media and press, calling journalism all sorts of derogatory words, but you're just here to do your job, like anyone else. And it gets pretty fucking hard when your boss is ringing your phone every five minutes demanding four stories by tomorrow and drivers are sassing you out as if you asked them if they've murdered their whole family.

So, naturally, the way they treat you determines a big chunk of how you think your day is going to pan out.

And right now, Franco seems to be lifting your spirits just fine.

"What are your goals for this weekend? Are points on the horizon for you at your first F1 race?" You continue, trying not to stare at the way Franco starts to rub at the back of his neck, bashful all of a sudden.

"We'll try," Franco begins. He plants both his hands on the barrier and leans even closer. You have to physically take a step back.

You gulp. Franco smiles.

"Anything is possible this weekend."

-

"You broke the internet last night."

You scoff, sending your cameraman a vicious side-eye. It's crowded in the paddock today, everyone wanting to get a glimpse of the new rookie, it seems. Such is the eagerness for this young driver that even that 30-second clip of your interview with him blew right up in your face. Your inboxes at capacity, your own voice speaking back to you with every other swipe on your TikTok.

It's not all bad, though. A tweet with one of your Instagram photos attached to it captioned 'TE ENTIENDO MUCHO FRANCO ES MUY LINDA PERIODISTA' did weasel out a chuckle from you.

Your cameraman shrugs, gesturing with a jerk of his head in front of you.

"There he is. I'm sure he knows all about it."

You look over to where he's pointing and lo and behold, Franco is right there, chatting with a few Williams team members, his race suit hanging undone around his waist. He turns to you even before you can fully register that it's him you're looking at.

But your training kicks in even faster. A megawatt smile appears on your lips and you wave enthusiastically at Franco.

"Hi."

"_______," Franco says, face lighting up at the sight of you. Your name seems to fall even more effortlessly off his lips.

You reach over and pull him into a half-hug with one arm, but both his arms wind around you and you have no choice but to squeeze back.

"You saw?" Franco asks, a gleam in his eye as he pulls away. His hand remains casually on the small of your back.

"Saw what?" You know what it is he's asking but you'd like to hear it from him.

"We went viral, no?" Franco says with a laugh, reaching further around you and squeezing your waist. You lean into his touch, heart jumping as his fingers graze just underneath your cropped top.

"That's all because of you," you reason, pointing an accusatory finger at Franco. "I bet you say that to all the other reporters."

The Williams team members standing nearby burst out laughing and even your cameraman affords a snicker. A deep blush spreads across Franco's face as he rubs your side reassuringly.

"No, no, I don't. Just you," Franco admits with another lighthearted laugh.

"Sure," you say with exaggerated skepticism. You pull away from his touch, catching his hand before he slips it fully off of you.

"I'll talk to you later," you say. And it's fully intentional, the words you choose to say. I'll talk to you later. Not 'I'll catch you later' or 'I'll see you later'.

I will talk to you later.

Franco understands, giving your hand a squeeze.

-

Later that day, you pray that no one catches you grinning behind your hand as Franco takes the chequered flag at qualifying.

P11.

Almost there.

-

"Hi. Come in."

Franco beams at you from across the threshold, stepping into your room with slow, measured steps.

"Great qualifying," you compliment, eyes traveling down Franco's body, noting the way his team kit hugs his frame just right, his hands shoved into his pockets, exposing just his arms, veins and all.

Your eyes snap back up to his face when you hear the door shut in place.

"Q2 on your debut. Not bad," you go on, taking a step back. Franco takes one toward you.

"You're just repeating what you said at the media pen earlier," Franco points out. He reaches out and gently circles an arm around your waist.

Always straight to the point.

Like this morning.

You tried not to make it so obvious when you ran into Franco earlier, but all you could think about was The Message.

You were doing your cursory social media checks a few minutes after you had woken up, still snug in your bed and unwilling to get up just yet. A message in your Instagram inbox caught your attention, sitting at the very top of your 'verified followers' tab.

Franco Colapinto: hola, hermosa 😉

It took a minute for your motor functions to return, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you pored over what to reply. You settled on a nonchalant greeting, asking if Franco needed anything.

You realized rather belatedly that this was looking a little familiar. You wished he wouldn't say the dreaded answer, the more-than-predictable response that every man liked to use.

Franco Colapinto: you, maybe?

You groaned into your pillow, not because you were repulsed by his answer, but because you liked it. If you were easy, then so was he.

You: i finish work at 9 pm tonight...? 👀

It's 9 PM now. Franco's in the room and your hand is running up his chest.

Easy.

"It's such an honor," Franco teases, backing you up further into the room. His hands feel heavy on your waist and your heart hammers against your chest.

"I get to work with people like you now," Franco continues, stopping right in front of the bed.

The kiss comes as a shock more so because of how good Franco kisses. One of his hands is now cradling the back of your head, keeping you in place while he licks into your mouth, groaning with every pucker of your lips.

You pull away for barely a second to get both of your tops off before you dive back in, seemingly too desperate and too starved for each other's mouths. Franco's hands are everywhere; they run down your arms, paw at your waist, tugging at the belt loops of your jeans.

You giggle as he pulls you even closer, your bare chests pressed against each other. Franco pulls back and peers down at you, reaching behind to unclasp your bra. You let it fall, already guiding one of his hands to your tits.

"Couldn't stop staring at them?" You ask, your voice rising with an innocent lilt.

Franco kneads at the mound beneath his hand, eliciting a moan from you. He grins.

"I wanted you to notice," Franco admits simply, kissing you again.

"Perv," you mumble against his lips. Franco laughs, already undoing his trousers.

You wiggle your own way out of your jeans, letting Franco get the shortest of glimpses at your baby pink underwear before you discard them off to the side.

"Mierda, you're so sexy," Franco compliments as you crawl backward onto the bed, laying back and letting your hair splay out beneath you.

Franco pounces on you like a man starved, bare atop your own naked body, his arms caging you in.

"Big moves from somebody so new," you whisper, carding your fingers through Franco's soft locks.

"I like to make a statement," Franco says with a shrug. He glances up momentarily, something piquing his interest off to the side.

"Is that your camera?"

You crane your neck to see where he's looking and sure enough, your personal DSLR is right there on the bedside drawer. You look back at Franco, an eyebrow raised.

"You wanna use it?" You ask, not expecting him to actually say yes. But a mischievous grin settles on Franco's face and you feel your heart skip several beats.

"Knock yourself out," you say.

Franco reaches for the camera and fiddles with it for a few seconds. His eyes scan over your body and you suddenly feel the urge to hide away with how hard he's looking.

"May I?" Franco asks, brandishing the camera. Your mouth falls open as you realize what he's asking.

"You can keep them for yourself. For your eyes only," Franco hurriedly adds, planting his knees firmly on either side of you.

You stare up at him, a million thoughts running through your mind.

"Just...touch yourself."

You gasp, stunned at his proposal. Franco watches through the LCD monitor, glancing up at you through his lashes. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth, and as if on instinct, your hand inches down slowly between your legs.

"You're in front of cameras all the time," Franco reminds with a smirk. "This should be easy for you."

You suppress a whimper at his words, your fingertips swiping through your slick folds. You're already soaked and you start to wonder if it started even before Franco got here.

The shutter clicks and the lens whirs, sharp against the soft breaths you're letting out. Franco is concentrated, snapping photo after photo as you rub yourself closer to release. But it's not enough. You need more.

"Franco...," you implore, peering up with bright, begging eyes.

"Slowly, mi amor," Franco coos. "Just where you like it. Right there."

Click.

"Harder now, but still slow. Yes? Feels good?"

You whine, eyes fluttering shut as your pleasure picks up again. Several clicks. You're panting now, the tendrils of release wrapping themselves around you.

"Faster, yes, like that," Franco eggs on. Your fingers speed up against your sensitive clit and a litany of Franco's name spills from your lips. Before you know it, he's putting the camera away. You reach for him, gripping the back of his neck as he smashes his lips into yours.

Franco bites down on your lip and you cry out, your orgasm washing over you like a tide. You arch against Franco, feeling his own stiffness heavy on your thigh.

You blink, Franco's face coming into focus, barely an inch from yours. He watches you closely, pupils blown wide and plump lips even redder. You hook your legs around his waist, letting him know that you're not done yet.

Franco is quick to pick up, smiling as lines himself up with you. The groan that escapes him is nothing short of delicious as he pushes himself in. You gasp along, the stretch a welcome sensation.

Franco wastes no time and pounds right into you, catching you by surprise. You let your head fall back against the mattress, a long, drawn-out whine erupting from deep within your chest as Franco licks a stripe up your neck.

Your whole body quakes with how hard he's thrusting into you but you're clearly enjoying it if your wanton moans are anything to go by. Franco meets your eyes and you pull him down, wanting nothing more than to drown in those lips of his.

It's feral and it's unrestrained, spurred on by the knowledge that this is more than unprofessional in your line of work. Not illegal by any means, but risky enough to warrant warnings from your coworkers. Never sleep with a driver unless you're committed.

Oh, well.

Franco groans loudly in your ear, movements losing their rhythm as he speeds up. You're clinging to him as if he'd disappear if you let go, your own belly tightening once more with that familiar feeling.

Franco. Franco. Franco.

He kisses you just as he finishes. Passionate, eager, heady. You feel him inside you, a different kind of elation filling you as you release all over him.

Franco pulls away to allow yourselves to breathe. He pulls out, rolling over to your side. You hug your folded knees to your chest, too lazy to get up and find something to deal with the mess.

"No hagas eso. Eso es demasiado doméstico," Franco jokes, moving closer and planting a kiss to your shoulder. Don't do that. That's too domestic.

"Relájate, estoy usando anticonceptiva," you reassure with a lighthearted roll of your eyes. Relax, I'm on birth control.

Franco hums, laying an arm over you. He pulls you close and you face him, reaching up to brush away some of his unruly hair.

He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Happy that you're a Formula 1 driver?" You ask, grinning.

Franco chuckles. "Very."

[sharkylass]

ALRIGHT, I ASKED FOREVER AGO, BUT WHO WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT MY ISA LOOPS AU??

Heads up this contains a lot, and I mean A LOT of spoilers for In Stars And Time. Including: = Act 6 spoilers, including main mystery and secret encounter = Minimal Act 5 stuff = And a bunch of extra stuff that happens through Act 3 and 4. SO BASICALLY ALMOST EVERYTHING, FINISH THIS GAME COMPLETELY BEFORE READING (ESPECIALLY THAT ACT 6 ENCOUNTER, IT WILL LITERALLY BE THE FIRST THING I MENTION UNDER THE CUT)

With all those warnings out of the way-

IN REPETITION AND CHANGE

Initial Concepts:

I feel it's important to show these sketches because they were the first ideas I ever had. I wasn't even entirely sure I wanted to make an AU at this point, I didn't even know how I'd approach it. But I started sketching and it's been on my mind since- SO! Isa is stuck in the timeloop. I know what his wish is and he DOES have a Loop equivalent! The grumpy dandelion guy is Roboro (it/they/he). Their name is a very small play on Ouroboros and they call Isa "Seedling". However, this post is not about them, as I'm gonna talk about it and Isa's dynamic in a separate post. In short, Isa is his normal loud self up until Act 3, right? They beat the King, they reach the end, and whoops, the loop isn't broken. So now, what happens is that Isa starts getting his brains out. He starts thinking more analytically and tries to problem solve.

The more stuck he gets in his head, the less he's able to perceive his friends as real people, and more like them holding him back. Because even if Isa explains that he's smart, that they shouldn't be surprised if he says something, shock of all shocks, reasonable- They'll forget it the next loop.

So Isa is stuck with trying to portray his confident, loud, supportive facade- Which is fine! It wouldn't be the first time! But it progressively gets more and more frustrating, as he tries to find answers and simply looses the energy to pretend to be stupid.

TL;DR: Isa in the timeloop, unlike Siffrin, becomes more distant and cold rather then something more akin to Sif's mania.

NOW, MORE ART!!!

KILL KILL KILL:

I imagine Isa didn't have this encounter the same way that Sif did. Yeah, frankly, Isa is pissed with the sadness- But that's not why he goes through with this.

In this moment, Isa is trying to kill two birds with one stone. He's trying to get through this quickly, as well as reassure Mira that they can do this! If he shows how strong he is, then she'll feel safe right???

Poor Isabeau forgot that whenever he shows that he thinks ahead, he scares people. How could he forget that? How could he forget that he's inherently---

Family Quest:

I still think Odile is the one to call out to him (same with sus quest).

The hangouts I'm still figuring out, cause I don't think they'd too similar to base game- But, fun fact, at the end of this run, everyone agrees to keep travel together!

Isabeau brings it up, can't hurt if you can fix your mistakes right? And everyone agrees. The relief on Siffrin is the most palpable thing Isabeau has ever seen.

In this moment they love you. In this moment they all love you. In this moment---

Death Screen:

He loops back anyways. (This is one of the initial concepts that I ended up animating. This line in particular is when he reaches the end)

Act 5 Tarot Card:

NOW TO SEE MORE OF HIS PASSIVE AGRESSIVE SIDE

Thanks to @the-bitter-ocean for prescribing tarot cards to Isa (THEY ALL FUCK SO HARD) and for the RAW ASS LINE

If interacted with in act 5, predictably, Isa tears it apart. He doesn't need the divine judgement upon him, he's faced everyone's perception his entire life.

However, he tears it methodically. Tears it once in even pieces, twice, three times, and one of the pieces once more. In a way he isn't even getting his emotions out, it's like he's actively trying to tear it apart so it stops nagging him, like he wants to shut it up. Though, the Judgement card symbolizes rebirth, absolution and inner calling. In Act 6 he'd be able to look at it and find comfort and confidence in the card.

Act 5 Mirror:

And lastly, I have the Act 5 mirror picture. I haven't quite figured out how to make the normal ones work yet, however, I couldn't let go of the idea that Isa would not want to be in the picture.

The idea of seeing himself at all makes his head hurt and his stomach squeeze. The memory haunts him as he stands to the side and says the word. He didn't think the mirror would catch him.

AAAAND THAT'S ALL THE ART STUFF FOR NOW!!

I still have quite a bit of it to post, especially about Roboro, but I'm gonna leave it here for now.

I still gotta figure out the hangouts and potentially the dagger equivalent- but I have ideas for Bad Touch, the glass equivalent, and some extra little things that didn't happen in Siffrin's loops.

I needed to yap about this, because I've been slowly stacking up ideas and writing and I needed to share it at some point- If anyone read all this and has questions and stuff I fully welcome 'em!!

[cinnasweetss]

SHE. | p.sh

check your window, he's at your window...

wc: 1k

content: this is strictly for the bitches that are sick & afraid of their own mind like ME, little to no dialogue, stalking, dub con/non con, hitting, choking, unprotected sex, squirting, creampie, etc etc...

a/n: I recommend listening to "she" by tyler the creator while you read. this work was written with that song in mind, hence the name. ideas, constructive criticism, and compliments are always welcome. thanks for reading <3

It rained all day. streets slippery with rainwater and mud, the earth outside your window was the same. big, chunky, steel toed boots sinking in the ground beneath them. he should've been more careful, removed his boots before he came in. maybe then he would've spared you the horror of finding muddy footprints inside of your home. 

he was sure that would be the last time he saw you. that you'd do the most obvious thing and call the police, tell them about the footprints, the squeaking floorboards in the middle of the night, the letters. or that time you woke up unexpectedly, peeked out the window to find him there. 

had he not blinked, you probably wouldn't have known. you wouldn't have screamed either, forcing him to flee. 

had he been in his right mind, he would've stopped hanging outside your window then. had you been in your right mind, you would've made sure your blinds were shut before you slept. you would've called the police. 

instead, you made him greedy. wanting to believe you might actually feel the same way, the notes became more frequent, longer, more passionate. he'd watch you read them too, swearing he could see a smile on your face each time you read one. swearing he might actually have a chance with you. 

he knew it when you made it easier for him to get in. he knows you purposefully left your back door cracked. in fact, he watched you. watched you contemplate between locking it, leaving it unlocked, or keeping it just a tad bit open. 

endless nights of following you home, memorizing your routines and schedules, watching you sleep, watching you unknowingly undress in front of your window, even those nights when you touch yourself under your covers, writhing and squirming until you finish. 

all those nights have finally paid off. he thinks that maybe, it was fate that he left those footprints on the floor outside your bedroom. after all, you’ve finally accepted him.

so why are you screaming? 

he couldn't figure out why you weren't happy to finally see him. why you were so surprised when he told you that you two would be together soon. he didn't understand why you fought him off either. 

he watched you frantically reach for your cellphone on your dresser, and had you not been shaking so much you probably could've made the call while you had him stunned. but your mistake gave him enough time to recover. he made sure to break it before he came back for you. large hands covered by black gloves dragging you back to your mattress, forcing you on your back. 

he'll never forget the way you looked at him. eyes wide as if you've seen a ghost, body trembling yet frozen in your fear, frantically trying to make your eyes adjust so you can see the figure above you.

frozen when he reached into his pants, eager to finally be inside you after weeks of watching and waiting, after dealing with your endless teasing. you'd mumbled a plead for him to wait that fell on deaf ears, sunghoon too occupied with getting his cock free and forcing your legs open. 

"wait! w-wait! don't!"  he'd heard that one, but it was weak, barely audible even. had you really wanted him to wait or even stop, you would've screamed like you did just minutes before. you would've made it harder for him to force your hands away. 

you wouldn't have put on this skimpy little night gown either. you made it too easy for him for him to shove a hand between your legs and push the damp fabric to the side. didn't even try to hide your ecstasy when he finally got himself inside you. 

it was all he dreamed of and more. so much better than sneaking in under the guise of the night and getting off by himself after pulling your covers back. never once did he think he'd actually be on top of you, buried deep inside of your cunt instead of using your hand while you're sleeping.

much different to see you squirming, mouth hung open as you release sounds of pleasure despite your feeble attempts at trying to resist. your legs kick in the air, arms pressed to your chest as sunghoon keeps up with his ruthless thrusting. he's used to having you so easily pliant, and at his disposal. 

didn't expect you to be so coy, instinctively moving to cover your chest as if he hasn't seen everything already. he surely didn't expect you to reject his kiss just moments after, going as far as biting him.

"fuck!"

it makes him draw back, the metallic taste in his mouth making him realize you actually drew blood. it infuriates him, and his hand cocks back and comes across your face before you have time to dodge. he wraps a hand around your throat to serve as a warning, thumb and forefinger squeezing around your artery. 

it's just enough to force you into submission for the time being. enough for sunghoon to lean back in and kiss you properly this time. sloppy open mouthed kisses against your lips, leading down to your chest. he makes sure to leave marks along the way. whether its around your neck, across your chest, at your hips, your wrists— anywhere to make sure you don't forget this eventful night. 

his thrusts are rough enough to do the same, sure to leave you sore in the morning, maybe even the days following.

he only lets go of your neck when tears form at your eyes and you begin to claw at his wrists. a loud gasp fills the air, followed by a choked and frantic "stop, stop!"

had you not began to convulse beneath him and cry out sounds of pleasure in the immediate seconds following, he just might have. 

he has to swallow back a laugh when he glances between your legs to where the two of you meet. skin of your thighs and the fabric of his jeans saturated in your orgasm. all the more reason for him to believe you want this just as much as him.

he's just a few more thrusts behind you, stifling back his own groans as his hips begin to stutter, cumming inside of you without warning shortly after.

this is something he’ll truly never forget. he’ll make sure you don’t either.

just as long as you continue to keep your door open.

[narizaki]

sticky notes   sakusa kiyoomi x reader

―   tags   fem reader,   fluff,   roommates to something close to lovers,   timeskip kiyoomi

―   notes   wc is 1.8k,   i wrote this on a whim so please forgive ooc kiyoomi, also please forgive any grammar mistakes lmao

you and sakusa have been communicating through notes for the past three months.

at first, you had mindlessly written down a few groceries you needed to buy on a sticky note, pasting it onto the fridge so you wouldn’t forget. it included some of the basics: eggs, flour, rice, milk, and other necessities for you and your roommate’s fridge. 

then, the next time you came home, you were greeted by a bright yellow sticky note seated next to your pink one. it said:

protein powder

lettuce

masks (the white ones)

between your full-time job and sakusa’s hectic schedule as a professional volleyball player, the two of you hardly saw each other, if at all. especially with sakusa’s new status on the olympic team. it wasn’t bad, per se, as you’d never been the closest to him — he was closed-off and, frankly, intimidating. it was like the man would go to any lengths to avoid interacting with others. regardless, his small addition to your grocery list had made you laugh. 

you checked off the items he wanted, and the sticky note was gone the next day.

from then, the two of you only ever communicated with each other this way. one of you would write the groceries they needed to get that weekend, and the other would make their additions to the list. it was effective, simple, and considering how the only post-it notes the either of you owned were offensively bright colors, hard to miss. 

after a while, you began adding little comments in addition to the list of items you needed to buy. they were short and sweet, like a thanks! written in the corner of your post-it detailing the items you needed sakusa to buy, or there are leftovers in the fridge after you made too much for dinner. you weren’t expecting sakusa to respond to them, given his stand-offish nature. so, when he did, you were surprised. no; scratch that, you were elated. although his replies weren’t anything extraordinary, just a simple you’re welcome or thank you for the food written in his neat handwriting under your own, it felt like a break in your relationship with sakusa. 

despite knowing him for a while now, the two of you stayed as acquaintances and nothing more. but, you couldn’t deny that you wanted to know more about him. and though unconventional, the sticky notes worked perfectly for this.

writing to each other using post-its became such a habit that sakusa bought a magnetic whiteboard. you were only made aware of it when you walked into the kitchen to see it set up. there was a note already written in black marker on the board, stating that the post-it notes were beginning to be a waste of paper. you made sure to write a large thanks, sakusa! with the same marker, adding a few hearts around it.

(and if sakusa flushed red at the sight of his name with hearts surrounding it, only he would know.) 

whenever your friends came over, they would question the purpose of the whiteboard. you couldn't blame them; it did take up the better half of your fridge's surface. they had a good laugh when you explained the story behind it, but some asked why couldn’t you just text each other?

and, honestly? you didn’t know either.

you knew it would be more efficient if you were to text sakusa instead of patiently waiting for his replies on the dry-erase board every day. but, if you wanted to, you knew you would’ve done it a while ago; before he even had the idea of buying the whiteboard, back when the two of you were conversing through neon sticky notes and wasting an unnecessary amount of paper. 

you surmise it’s because you didn't want to ruin your and sakusa’s relationship — if you could even call it that. texting him would forcefully pull him into your orbit. though you’ve been regularly interacting with him for the past few months, you were aware that you hardly knew anything about the man; small notes and lists only gave you so much information about a person. the whiteboard was a safe in-between — you learn a little more about him and his habits, while not forcing him to interact with you. 

well, you think, he’s not obligated to answer my texts, either. you have his number, and it’s not like you haven’t texted him before. there was only so much you could do when you weren’t home to pick up packages or forget to inform him of a repairman coming over. 

you mull over the decision, a short text already typed into your conversation with sakusa. your finger hovers over the send button, before you furiously spam the delete key and put your phone down. no, nevermind. 

your plan of staying content with your relationship fails miserably.

it’s been a hard few weeks at work, with seemingly endless deadlines you have to meet and an equally endless amount of meetings you’ve had to attend. you feel as if you haven’t had a moment to yourself in forever.

so, when you submit your most recent project to your boss and shut your laptop closed, the first thing on your mind is to go home and rest. your mind is on auto-pilot as you pack your belongings, spitting out no’s to your co-workers' offers to go out drinking. when you’re this tired, the last thing you want to do is wake up with a splitting headache and an awful hangover the next day.

you stumble into your apartment, hastily toeing your heels off. a sigh leaves you, the harsh pressure of the shoe finally being relieved. they’re thrown somewhere in the corner, probably not anywhere close to where they should be, but you’ll deal with that tomorrow. all you want is some sleep. you consider just crashing on the couch and dealing with the consequences tomorrow.

“rough day?” a flat voice asks. you jump at the noise, not expecting anyone to be in your apartment. when you look up, you’re greeted by a tall figure standing in front of you. your eyes take a moment to rack over them, not completely registering that the only other person who has access to your apartment is…

sakusa.

“huh…?” you mutter, blinking a few times to will the tiredness from your eyes. it doesn’t work. sakusa only sighs, stepping from the doorway and further into your home. there’s a look on his face that’s telling you to follow, but when you don’t out of pure shock because he’s here? like, actually here? at home? he rolls his eyes.

“come on,” he says, “there’s food on the stove already.” 

you continue to stay silent, causing sakusa to raise an eyebrow. your face is scrunched up, a hand on the wall next to you to support your weight.

“are you…am i hallucinating…?” you mumble, internally debating if you wanted to pinch yourself to make sure that you’re not dreaming in any way. “i thought you weren’t going to be back for a while?” 

in response to your delirious rambling, sakusa laughs. it’s rather quiet, but you know he does. you hear the rapid exhalation of air accompanied by a deep rumble coming from his chest, and you can see his shoulders shaking. 

he steps closer to you, forcing your bag from your shoulder and practically pulling you with him into your shared living room. you’re tripping over your feet, mind still fuzzy from your tiring day. 

“leave it up to you to not be able to think properly after a long day,” he murmurs, setting your bag down on the couch. in your half-awake daze, you’re unable to form a proper response. “i guess you’re not hungry then.”

“well…” you stammer, still trying to get your bearings. “you’re like, never home, sakusa…so how am i supposed to react when you practically teleport in front of me?” you finish, a yawn escaping you. that makes sakusa laugh again. 

“for your information, i didn’t teleport in front of you,” he replies, “i heard the door open, so i went to greet my roommate. now, go get ready for bed.”

you disregard what he says, opting to groan when he orders you to get ready for bed. it just seems like so much work. you have to take off your makeup, change, brush your teeth, do your skincare…you think you’d rather crash face-first on your couch, like you were planning on doing earlier. you tell him that much.

sakusa rolls his eyes again. he pushes you towardsthe bathroom, telling you to take off your makeup, while he goes to rummage in your room for sleepwear. what? 

you don't have much of a choice, so you follow his directions. beginning with your meticulous skincare routine, you cleanse off your makeup. while you’re drying your face, sakusa knocks on the bathroom door with a fresh pair of pajamas for you to change into. 

once you’ve completed your nightly routine, you wander out of the bathroom to find sakusa sitting on the couch. he seems preoccupied with something on his phone, and you have to admit that the sight of him concentrating is rather charming. 

thankfully, the cold water you’d splashed onto your face woke you up, so you’re more awake than you were when you’d entered. you’re still horribly tired, and you want nothing but to sleep in the comfort of your bed, but you feel bad going straight to bed without even thanking sakusa for taking care of you. the only way the two of you talked for the last few months  was over post-it notes, for god's sake! 

“hey, sakusa?” you call, and his attention snaps from his phone to you. “thanks for uh…taking care of me. sorry about all that, i was really tired. or, er, am really tired.” you awkwardly stutter out. 

he hums in response, standing up from the couch and taking long strides towards you. thanks to his height, he’s face-to-face with you in no time. he’s close — maybe a little too close for someone you think probably doesn't even consider you a friend. that leads you to another realization: for someone that you knew disliked social interaction, he’s also talked to you an awful lot today.

“if you were really thankful, you’d go to bed right now and eat what i made tomorrow. you’re exhausted.” he bluntly replies. you gape at him for a moment, about to reply, but he cuts you off. “i’ll be home more often. volleyball is in the off-season now.” 

you know you should just nod and turn on your heel to go to bed, but there’s a question on the tip of your tongue that slips before you’re able to catch it. 

“so… no more whiteboard notes?” you question. sakusa laughs for a third time that night, and you think you’ve hit the jackpot in your slightly delirious state. 

he shakes his head. “no more whiteboard notes for now.”

you wake up the next morning, and when you enter the kitchen, you see a yellow sticky note pasted onto the whiteboard. on it, it reads: 

we can make these lists together now, so there's no need for either of these.

and, yeah, you think you can get used to that.