#i have a suspicion of who this might be but THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH ANON!!! 💚💖💙💫🌟

[kanaria-a]

❝Neglecting my happiness, I never want to sober up.❞

in which, Ace and Deuce know you have a crush on someone, but can't figure out who...

ft. Riddle. Just Riddle this time. Yeah, i’m tweaking too.

You should have anticipated that your newfound tendency toward daydreaming would not escape the notice of your most observant friends. Ace's sharp eyes miss nothing when it comes to potential entertainment, and Deuce's earnest concern for your wellbeing makes him remarkably perceptive to changes in your behavior. Together, they form an investigative duo that would make the Mystery Shop's proprietor proud.

"You're doing it again," Ace announces during lunch, waving his fork in your direction with theatrical accusation. "That weird, distant look where you smile at nothing and forget to eat your sandwich."

Deuce nods sagely, though his expression carries more worry than amusement. "It's been happening for weeks now. Are you feeling alright? Should we take you to the infirmary?"

You hastily redirect your attention to your neglected meal, hoping the warmth in your cheeks might be attributed to the greenhouse's ambient temperature rather than embarrassment. "I'm perfectly fine. Perhaps I've simply been contemplating academic matters more thoroughly than usual."

"Academic matters," Ace repeats with undisguised skepticism. "Right. Because you definitely get that dopey expression when thinking about Professor Trein's history assignments."

The following days bring increasingly creative attempts at investigation. Ace employs his talent for misdirection to steer conversations toward various NRC students, watching your reactions with the intensity of a hawk observing field mice. Deuce, bless his straightforward heart, takes a more direct approach by simply asking if you'd like to discuss whatever has been occupying your thoughts.

"It's someone at school, isn't it?" Deuce ventures one afternoon as you walk toward the library. "You've been different ever since that joint event with the other dorms."

You nearly stumble over your own feet, which only serves to confirm their suspicions. "Whatever gave you that impression?"

"The way you keep checking your appearance in reflective surfaces," Ace supplies helpfully, appearing at your other side with his characteristic grin. "And how you suddenly care about being punctual to everything. Yesterday you showed up to Potions fifteen minutes early just to organize your workspace."

Their detective work intensifies to almost comical proportions. They begin trailing you between classes, taking notes on your interactions with various students, and engaging in hushed conferences that cease abruptly whenever you approach. You find their dedication both endearing and mildly concerning, particularly when Ace starts carrying around a notebook labeled "Operation: Cupid's Target."

The truth reveals itself quite by accident during an afternoon study session in Heartslabyul's library. You're reviewing your notes when Riddle Rosehearts enters, his presence immediately commanding attention despite his relatively quiet demeanor. He approaches your table with characteristic precision, setting down a carefully wrapped package beside your textbooks.

"You mentioned yesterday that you were having difficulty locating a first-edition copy of 'Advanced Magical Theory,'" he states formally, though his ears betray the faintest hint of pink. "I recalled seeing one in my personal collection and thought you might find it useful for your research."

The gesture is so thoughtful, so perfectly considerate, that you cannot suppress the radiant smile that transforms your entire expression. "Riddle, this is incredibly kind of you. I don't know how to thank you properly."

"Your academic success is gratitude enough," he replies, though his own smile softens his usually stern features. "Should you require any clarification regarding the more complex theoretical concepts, I would be pleased to assist with your studies."

The exchange continues for several minutes, filled with the sort of polite, careful conversation that barely conceals deeper feelings. You're so absorbed in Riddle's presence that you entirely forget about your audience until a dramatic gasp echoes through the library.

"THE HOUSEWARDEN?" Ace's voice carries enough shock to violate several library rules simultaneously. "You have a crush on RIDDLE?"

Deuce's expression cycles through surprise, realization, and something approaching panic. "Oh no, what if he overhears? What if there are rules about this? What if—"

"What if you both lower your voices before you get us all in trouble?" you hiss, mortified beyond measure.

Riddle, to his credit, handles the revelation with admirable composure, though his face now matches his hair in chromatic intensity. "I believe," he says carefully, "that we should perhaps continue this conversation elsewhere."

Later, after explanations have been given and feelings tentatively acknowledged, Ace shakes his head in amazement. "I can't believe you fell for Mr. 'Off-With-Your-Head' himself."

Deuce, however, beams with genuine happiness. "Actually, it makes perfect sense. You both care about doing things properly, and he's always looking out for everyone's wellbeing. I think you're perfect for each other."

You find yourself grateful for friends who, despite their occasionally chaotic methods, ultimately want nothing more than your happiness.

YESSSS i know i said i was gonna do a bday thing for evb…but i literally couldn’t think of shit for lilia, sebek, epel or J*DE AND IT WAS ACTUALLY MAKING ME WANNA PUKE MY BRAIN OUT OF MY ASS.

[talesfromawannabewriter]

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Warning ⚠️: Talks of murder and sexual assault

He had to focus, like Angel said keep his eye on the prize.

Nothing would take away his one chance to see them again, nothing.

—

Abel had enough

He was done playing nice, he was done waiting. After his mother had come home yet again with no news of his father he had decided to take matters into his own hands

He was going to see once and for all if Lucifer Morgenstern was in Hell. If he was then he would do everything within his power to bring him home.

So he went straight to the seraphim’s chamber and told them of his request.

Luckily enough the bright eyed younger sister was in that day and knew exactly who Abel was talking about.

Emily: I know exactly where your father is.

Abel: You do!?

Emily: He is indeed in Hell….but not all hope is lost. Your father has taken to staying at the Hazbin hotel.

Abel: You mean, that place for sinners? Where that one snake angel stayed at before coming here?

Everyone had heard about the disaster of extermination day and of its aftermath. A soul once from the damned had been saved and reborn into Heavenly graces.

Abel: My father is trying to be redeemed?

The older seraphim nodded: Yes, from what I’ve heard he has been making tremendous strides and Emily even said that he might be redeemed any day now.

Abel beamed: That’s wonderful! But I have to see him, I have to see my father. Even if it’s only for a little bit. It’s been over twenty years since I’ve last hugged him…..

All the boy wanted was nothing more than to be reunited in his father’s embrace. He missed his warmth so terribly much.

Sera sighed as she thought it over: We cannot have you go by yourself it would be too dangerous.

Emily: But I am more than willing to take you to the hotel.

Without a single thought Abel rushed towards Emily and hugged her tightly. Abel felt so happy in that moment that he didn’t care that it was inappropriate.

Abel: Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!

Emily said nothing more as she simply giggled while bringing him in closer. All three beings unaware of a presence listening in.

—

Days had gone by without incident. Lucifer kept to himself but observed quietly of the wolf and his friends.

So far they hadn’t caused any trouble but he noticed that every night without fail they would go out after dinner and be gone for about two to three hours.

It made him curious as to where they would go. But he tried to not care about it much. It didn’t concern him how they spent their evenings.

Or if they were fucking up their own progress. He was so close that Emily said he could be redeemed any day now.

He couldn’t fuck up everything he worked for by getting too curious.

However, on one night in particular while everyone laid in bed sleeping Lucifer was up in the kitchen getting a late night snack when he noticed that the three patrons were still not back yet.

In fact they had left before supper which for some strange reason made the feeling of suspicion grow within his gut tenfold.

He didn’t know why but he had a strange sense that he should find where they went and go there.

Thankfully he managed to find a way into one of the three sinners bedroom where he found notes.

Most of them were scrambled but they did find one where it gave the address of where they supposedly went.

Taking the paper with him for the first time since coming there he snuck out.

—

Following the address to a T he ended up at a warehouse where surprisingly enough he managed to find a way into. 

It helped that with the hoodie he had on nobody could tell that it was him. He was surrounded by others as they waited for someone to speak.

Alchlys: Alright my brothers listen closely!

Lucifer’s head snapped to the familiar voice of none other than Achlys standing on a few crates.

Achlys: For ages now we have waited for the princess to take charge like her mother and finally lead us into victory over Heaven since the moment we found out that we can defeat them. However, she has proven that she is nothing more than a sniveling little bleeding heart who actually believes in this redemption shit.

Groaning echoed throughout them all along with a few boos.

Achlys: Now, now calm all is not lost. We still have a chance at victory. I’ve received news from the lady herself.

A chorus of muttering swept through the sea of people and Lucifer couldn’t help but grow curious himself.

Who was the lady?

Achlys: According to her we’ll all be receiving a guest soon. None other than Lucifer’s brat himself.

Lucifer felt his breath hitch, they couldn’t possibly talking about him…could they?

Achlys: Said that he’s coming here to try and see his dear old papa! Isn’t that sweet folks?

From all around him sinners snickered while Lucifer could only stand around as he took in the realization that they were talking about him.

Achlys: My lady said that with his arrival we will be able to find a way in. 

Sinner: You mean to upstairs?

Achlys grinned down at him: Exactly.

Sinner: But how exactly do we use him to get upstairs?

Achlys: Quite simple, Lucifer’s brat is bringing along an escort one that we shall use to our advantage.

Achlys: We will be waiting for them at the embassy when they arrive with a little present. 

The wolf pulled out a dagger that everyone recognized as angelic steel.

Achlys: We are going to give the little wretch a gift when he finally arrives. One that he won’t expect, just like the first time.

Lucifer’s heart dropped as he suddenly felt ill. He now knew exactly who this man was. He was no stranger this was the man who took his son’s and husband’s lives.

And he was planning to do the same again.

Achlys: They won’t even suspect our ambush until it’s too late. Then when the deed is done we will threaten that little guide of his into granting us passage, unless she wants to become just like her friend. Then when we get to Heaven we shall take the golden kingdom by force. We shall take everything, everything will be ours. Including that bastard’s little husband.

Achlys took a moment to stare down at everyone with a look in his eyes that made Lucifer visibly shake.

Achlys: I remember him, he put up quite a fight as I gutted him like a pig. Quite the spitfire that one. But you know what else I remembered?

The crowd leaned in clearly interested.

Achlys: I remembered thinking how good it would be to leave my mark on him other than the stab ones. Well, now is my chance to do so, in fact we will all get a chance to share his spoils as we hold him down. I know that I will not be letting a single part of him go to waste.

The Road to Heaven

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Warning: Death, gruesome murder

Lucifer hummed happily as he opened the door to his home. To his surprise, it was unlocked but chalked it up to either his son or husband being forgetful.

He didn't think much as he placed his bags on the ground before calling out,

Lucifer: Adam? Abel? I'm home!

Not a single peep came out, not even a single word.

Strange, were they not home? He could have sworn that they would be.

Then again, he did come early from his job, the case that he solved wasn't a hard one so he was sent back to his town where he would surprise his husband and son.

He even had gifts for the two of them, as he usually does after he is sent away, but still. For the apple of his eye, he got him a snow globe to add to his little collection.

For the love of his life, he had with him a bouquet of his favorite flowers, sunflowers. As he made his way through the house, he kept calling out to both Adam and Abel to see if they were there.

They had to be because even though they were forgetful people, they wouldn't just leave without locking the door. He taught them better than that.

Eventually, he had stumbled upon the living room, where he called out to them one last time.

Lucifer: Cmon, guys, I know you're here! Stop playing this trick.... on....me....

Lucifer stopped dead in his tracks as he stared at the sight of his son and husband both lying on the ground in a pool of their own blood.

Lucifer didn't even hear himself scream or anything else, for that matter, as everything became white noise as he fell to his knees in horror and crawled his way over to them.

He could swear that the volume of his screams increased when he saw the stab wounds that littered their bodies. The blood seemed to have stopped flowing for quite a while.

Which meant they were long dead.

Lucifer felt fiery hot tears stream down his face as he stared down at both Abel and Adam's faces that were frozen eternally in terror.

Lucifer: MY BABIES!!!!! NOOOOO!!!!!

He took them into his arms and held them tightly, not caring that there was blood soaking on him now. He rocked himself back and forth still holding them and sobbing so loud he was sure he could be heard outside his house.

Lucifer: My babies, my babies, my loves....

As each moment passed, all Lucifer could feel was his own heart cracking until it had shattered completely.

His family was gone, and someone had taken them from him. They had taken EVERYTHING from him.

And he swore that whoever had done so would pay back tenfold.

--

Lucifer jolted up from his sleep, clutching onto his chest as if his heart would burst through at any second. Damn his own mind for replaying the worst moment of his life over and over again while he was trying to escape the reality he lived, even if it were only a few hours.

He got up from his rickety mattress and made his way to the nearest window to take a look at the red, dreary wasteland that was unfortunately his home.

Hell

[ziezii]

oh yeah ryusae is a great ship but not my favorite, i say as i keep making headcanons for the two & their relationship

[tonycries]

Hope They Catch Us - G.S.

Synopsis. When you’re on-screen, it’s always a rivalry to see who’s best - you just never thought that it would be the same struggle in bed.

Pairing. Actor! Gojo Satoru x Co-Star! Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rivals-to-lovers, co-stars to lovers, unprotected, oral (fem receiving) slight exhíbitionism (stuff with cameras), marking, praise, Satoru is actually down BAD, cúmplay, tabloids, lowkey fluffy at the end, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.5k

A/N. YA GIRL IS BACKKKK ;D Also happy belated three months to this blog hehehe.

Lights, Camera, Drama: Gojo Satoru and Leading Lady’s Off-Screen Feud to SINK Box Office Darling?

“They’ll Kill Each Other!” Insider Source Spills All on the Royal Rivalry Between Hollywood’s Hottest Bachelor and Bachelorette.

Enemies of The Century or Publicity Stunt? Recent Cast Outings Sets Fans Speculating!

---

You hated him. Oh, how you hated him. All because of a red-hot rivalry that had sparked ever since the two of you took the industry by storm. And everyone from Hollywood’s bigshots to your adoring fans knew that no matter where Gojo Satoru goes, you were sure to never be within a ten-mile radius. 

Well, usually. 

“I…shit- I’m in love with you.” 

Because avoiding Gojo like a plague really isn’t saying much when said plague was currently sitting right next to you. Eyes boring into yours, signature smirk plastered on his face while he rattles off a disgustingly sweet confession - all on the set of your latest movie. 

Somehow, in a cruel twist of fate, your co-star. 

And to add insult to injury, this wasn’t just any movie - it was only set to be the biggest romance film of the summer. So not only did you hate to tolerate Gojo, you had to pretend to be in love with him. 

Perfect. Great. Wonderful. If only the check wasn’t as tempting as it was, you think he would’ve successfully driven you to an aneurysm already. Especially considering that the scene tomorrow was-

“CUT!” 

That snaps you out of your little reverie, bringing you back to the still very ongoing film shooting. You risk a glance at the disgruntled director, cheeks aching from the sappy fake smile you had to hold for this scene.

“Something wrong?” you bat your lashes deceivingly innocently. You knew exactly what was wrong. And one look at Gojo - dressed to the nines and huffing sulkily at being interrupted in the middle of his monologue - told you that he did as well.

“It just doesn’t feel real.” The director shuffles his script, voice dropping to a sigh at your confused gazes. “The spark, it doesn't feel real.”

“What?” you silently thank your years of acting for keeping your voice steady. You squirm in your seat the longer the silence stretches. This cozy little café they rented out too tight, Gojo’s fingers intertwined with yours too hot. Too soft. 

“C’mon. You are in the perfect romantic set-up.” the other man gestures wearily at the café, at the dim-lighting and the proximity of your seats. “So why do you two look like you want to just- strangle each other?”

“Ooo kinky~”

It’s the first time Gojo’s spoken up since the scene was ended early and honestly that was enough to have you fulfilling the director’s suspicions. 

“That.” you give him a pointed stare. “That is probably why.”

And that just draws out such an infuriatingly light chuckle from Gojo, as he sprawls all over his chair with the audacity of someone that owned this entire set. “Lighten up. You’ve told us, n’ in the next take I’ll fix it. Easy peasy.”

If only it was that “easy peasy”. The director was anything but satisfied, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. “It’s not just me, even the public is worried whether your ‘feud’ will get in the way of such intimate scenes. You-” he jabs a finger your way. “-better pretend like you want to kiss him senseless and you-” whirling now to Gojo. “-better act like you’ve wanted nothing more for years- Not to mention tomorrow’s sex scene-”

Ah, right. The sex scene. 

How could you forget? It might not be a walk in the park to giggle and make heart-eyes at Gojo, but to actually pretend to have sex with him? All on camera? Curse whoever wrote this damn script. You could’ve almost laughed at the universe’s absolutely awful sense of humor if it hadn’t been for your paycheck - and the next words that tumble out of Gojo’s pretty mouth. 

“We’ll ace it, you just watch.” 

You hurriedly snap your eyes to meet Gojo’s, sending him a look that says “behave”, in a way that very much makes him not want to. Twinkling with such dangerous mischief that makes your stomach flip as he hums, “Or- I’ll ace it.”

God, was it a battle to remain professional. The only thing stopping you from snapping back being the way he squeezes your hand mockingly reassuringly - to which you send him a death grip back, of course. 

“Oh? Care to elaborate, Mr. Gojo?” the director asks, eyes flitting between the two of you. And you can’t even laugh at the rest of the staff for almost toppling out of their seats in an attempt to hear his answer - because you are, too. Mind whirling as you lean closer, wondering just what nonsense would come out of Gojo’s mouth. 

“Well, you could say…” he trails off suspensefully, like the smug bastard he is. Looking right in your eyes as he flashes an unfairly pretty smile your way. “I’m irresistible like that.”

Exactly the type of nonsense that would come out of Gojo Satoru, of course. And one glance at the director told you he was thinking the same thing. He was going to be the death of you. You can’t help but breathe out shrilly, “You fucking-”

“My apologies, director, but our leads have a scheduled interview soon. Rest assured, we will be early on set for filming tomorrow.”

You were definitely giving Nanami a raise after this. 

Because if looks could kill then Gojo would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on his grace already - and you let him know. A little over twenty times, actually, as the both of you are hastily escorted away from the set for an “emergency interview”. 

It was a flimsy excuse, you both knew, but Nanami hadn’t exactly felt like cleaning up a crime scene today. Instead, settling for a swift escape, the director calling out after you two to “Look like you’re gonna rip the clothes off each other tomorrow.”

Rip the clothes off each other, huh?

With the way things were going, you couldn’t be surprised if you ripped him a new-

“C’mon, sweetheart~” Gojo gets out through giggles, that familiar cackle echoing in the narrow hallway leading to your trailer. “Y’know I was just having a little fun with that ol’ man.”

He saunters unhurriedly behind your brisk pace, easily blocking the way you swing the door shut in his face. Letting it shut with such infuriatingly smooth nonchalance. 

“Fun?” you scoff, jabbing an accusing finger right in the middle of his sculpted chest.“Do you even realize the mess you could’ve made?”

“Easy there, m’not insured for these pecs just yet.” Gojo clasps your hands together. Some strange little part of your skin burning at the touch in- anger? Something else? But you don’t think too hard about it, because he’s plowing on, “Besides, a little teasing never hurt anyone.”

Such a shame he was so pretty with the stupidest mouth.

“A little teasing? You practically declared to everyone in that room that we’re gonna fuck this up.” you move to pull him down by the collar instead, clearly unimpressed.

But oh you shouldn’t have done that - because he’s so close now. Too close. Hot breath fanning your face, looking so smug as he murmurs unrepentantly, “Do you?” Chuckling lightly at your little head tilt, “Do you think we’ll fuck it up?”

You clench your jaw, trying to keep it all together. “...No.”

“Exactly. We’re good then.” he winks. 

“No. We’re not fucking ‘good’.” you grit out. Wondering exactly how difficult it might be to bother the director into completely recasting the male lead for the movie. Looking up at that million dollar smile and- yeah, it would be very difficult. “You’re so insufferable. I don’t know why they cast you.” 

“My good looks? My charisma? The way I’m the-” he trails off with a sigh at your glare. “Well, you’re not exactly a ray of sunshine, sweetheart.”

“At least I can act and-.”

He whines dramatically, cutting off your rant. “Me too!” 

This conversation was so ridiculous - but, hey, the great Gojo Satoru always did bring out the worst parts of you. 

“Nuh uh.” 

“Yuh uh.” 

“Then why are you so stiff when acting like you’re in love with me?”

Somehow, that makes Gojo shut up. Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water - gasping out a strangled little, “B-because- well-” And if you didn’t know any better you’d say that was a light blush dusting his ears.

Only for a split-second, though, because he’s grabbing you gently by your shoulders, more seriously than you’d ever seen him. “Fine. Listen, we both want the same thing right? To have pretend-sex and ace this film to win like five Oscars?”

And maybe at the heat of his newfound proximity, maybe at the way he was looking at you so goddamn intensely - you feel something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Swallowing thickly, you manage to get out, “I’ll be the one winning the Oscars...but yes.”

Gojo’s gaze roams all over you - from the quirk of your eyebrow to the dress hugging you so sinfully tight. “Then we’ll do it. Ace the scene.”

Traitorously, a shiver runs down your spine. And because the universe loves to play jokes on you, Gojo notices - of course, he does. Eyes lighting up with amusement and something you really didn’t want to decipher as you blink up questioningly, “How?”

“Method acting, silly.” he rolls his eyes, as if he wasn’t implying something that wasn’t seen in even the cheesiest of romcoms. “Think of it as running lines.”

If there was ever a moment where your life flashed behind your eyes then this just might be it. 

“You-” you gulp, so hot all over. “You better shut the fuck up and pray your face is insured because-”

At this, Gojo throws his head back and laughs - loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say about keeping his voice down so as not to let anyone outside hear, but shit you were mesmerized. Damn, a weird little part of you kind of understood why directors loved him onscreen. 

“Feisty,” he muses. “But how can I shut the fuck up when they’re second-guessing the two best actors in the game?” 

“The best? Me, maybe.” you lean in closer, mouth as bitchy as ever - even when you’re so obviously crumbling bit by bit under his gaze. And he knew that. “But not you.”

“Well, only way to find out is with tomorrow’s scene, right, sweetheart?” 

He drove you mad - everything from his heady cologne, to the way that overpriced button-up clung to him like second skin. But, don’t pull away - how could you? Not when he inches closer ever-so-slightly. Not when he lets those overpriced glasses slide down his nose, eyes locked so heavily on you.

Fighting to keep your words steady, “There’s nothing special about that scene, just fake moan in front of the camera, right? We don’t need any…‘method acting’.”

Gojo only raises a brow in amusement, lips curling into a grin that really makes you too aware of his little dimple by the corner. “Then why…” His eyes flicker down from his hands, searing on your shoulders, to yours - still grabbing his collar, just grazing the soft skin of his neck. Not pulling away. “...can’t you let go of me, sweetheart?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you, you really don’t give a fuck. The only thing running through your mind being that shit this was Gojo bane-of-your-existence Satoru, and he tasted so…sweet. Like those cheap lollipops he often snuck on-set. Strawberry, you think.

But you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly he’s pulling away mere millimeters. Whispering hotly, absolutely dripping with something dangerous, “Sooo, is that a ‘yes’ to running lines?”

“Ugh, shut up.” your lips ghost his. “And just fucking kiss me.”

And, well, Gojo doesn’t have to be asked twice. Because it only takes a split second for his lips to find yours again. 

Yeah, definitely strawberry lollipops.

You hadn’t filmed any of the kissing scenes just yet, but damn you didn’t expect him to be so hot and messy - like he was drunk off of you. Licking at the seam of your candied lips, groaning softly like he wanted more more more-

“Sh-shit, Goj-” 

“Call me ‘Satoru’ when we’re fucking.” he cuts you off. “Or, my bad. When we’re ‘running lines’.” 

Shameless. Though, you guess you weren’t any better - not as you press yourself closer running your hands all over his sinfully thin shirt, feeling every bump and curve of his abs. “You talk too much, Toru.” you hiss, muffled against his lips. 

Oh that cute lil’ nickname had all the blood rushing to Satoru’s cock, you were so unfair. 

“You little minx.” Like a little punishment, he’s biting down on your bottom lip, tugging lightly at your surprised squeal. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“Hmm, I doubt it.”

And then your back is hitting the couch before you can react, bouncing lightly at the sheer force. And you’re so swept up in him - the way he hovers over you, arms looping around your waist, his knee wedging between your legs - that it almost hurts for you to pull away.

“Patience.” you huff out a laugh at Satoru’s disappointed whine, eyeing those pretty pink lips mere inches away from you. You just wanted them on yours. So badly. But no, there was something more important you had to do right now. “Jus’ thought we should record our little rehearsal, whaddaya think?”

“Record it?”

“Record it.”

“Record it, hmmm?” he’s whispering, more to himself than you. Fumbling with the zipper of your dress. “So you’re sayin’ we tape it, let the camera see how pretty you look all fallin’ apart f’me.” Kissing down your neck, letting the flimsy fabric fall down, “N’ then we improve for the pretend sex. Shut all those snobby directors up by giving them the best fucking sex scene they’ve ever seen.”

“Y-yes?” you mutter, as he starts tweaking your hardened nipples through your bra, clearly having way too much fun with this. “Unless-”

“Fine by me.”

The fabric hits the floor before you even realize what’s happening. Head spinning too much from the idea of being fucked on camera - by Satoru of all people, it takes you a second to realize that this bastard fucking ripped your dress off. 

“You probably broke-” 

“I’ll buy you a new one.” muffled, as he kisses down your navel, blindly fumbling with his phone. 

“It was expensive.”

With an impatient sigh, Satoru sets the camera up on the coffee table beside the couch. “Five new ones.” Angling it just right to perfectly capture you - in all your disheveled, horny glory, and Satoru, smugly seating himself between your thighs. 

“Ready?” he asks, finger hovering over that damn red button.

Well, it’s just for rehearsal, right? Right? 

“Do it.” you manage to get out, voice getting stuck in your throat at the faint ding! that rings throughout the heady room. “For my Oscars?”

“For my Oscars. N’the camera’s gonna know.”

And whatever retort on the tip of your tongue dies when he rocks his hip against yours, grinding his cock against your soaked panties. Rock-hard and so damp with precum already - so big that any and all rational thinking flies out the window.

Which is probably why you’re letting out such a pretty gasp, ‘S-Satoru, I want-“

“What?” And Satoru only flashes you a devilish grin, hands spreading your legs as far as they’d go on the couch. “This?”

He licks a long, long stripe up your inner thigh, all the way till he just meets the hem of your drenched panties. Teasing. So hot and depraved in the way he breathes in your scent. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart.” Satoru grunts, looking down in awe at the damp fabric, so flimsy and see-through with your sweet juices. You slick beading through so sloppily, just a hint of the state you were in. “You don’t know how you drive me mad.”

Rip! 

He’s so fucking starved that he’s just tearing your poor panties clean off. Throwing them behind him to God-knows-where before spreading your swollen folds with his thumb, showing off just how wet you were for him. 

“You’re a tease.”

“And you’re fucking addictive. Look how fuckin’ wet you are. For who, huh?” he slurs, breath hot against your cunt. Circling your entrance just barely with his fingertip, teasing you like he was addicted to those frustrated moans coming out of your pretty lips. 

“S’for you-” you whine, “All for you, Satoru.”

“Exactly what I wanted to hear.”

And that’s all that needs to be said before he’s burying himself nose-deep. Drunk off your pussy as he licks long, languid movements. And it wasn’t enough - never might be, actually, because only one taste and Satoru was like a man possessed. 

Bullying his tongue between your folds, just dipping into your sloppy hole in a way that had your slick smearing all over his pretty face. Letting out such deep groans that had you clenching around his hot tongue. 

Shit, if you knew that this was the way to shut up the great Gojo Satoru then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. Because for one in his life, Satoru’s too entranced with something else to run his mouth, so fucking satisfied between your thighs. 

“Fuck- hah- think I like you better w-when hngh- you’re like this, Toru.” you purr, breath hitching as he bullies his tongue between your folds. 

Maybe you were an idiot - maybe you were a genius, because that only sets him off more. 

And suddenly Satoru’s pulling your body closer onto his hot mouth, like you were weighless. Pushing himself so impossibly closer while he makes out deeper with your wet cunt. 

“Ah! Hngh- Satoru-” you keen, tugging at his soft locks. As delirious as Satoru was pussydrunk. Drinking in all your cute lil’ whines of his name, angling your hips to lick all over like he couldn’t decide between fucking your sloppy hole or toying with your poor, ravaged clit. 

“Mhm?” he murmurs, the vibrations making you squeal.  Eyes rolling to the back of his head as lets your sweet juices slide down his throat. “Ya like this?” Stretching you out on his tongue, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Over and over- “Like when I tonguefuck your pretty pussy?”

“Ngh- love it- s’good. Ah fillin’ me up s’good.” you squeal, bucking your hips desperately into his pretty face, broken little whimpers leaving you at each rough push of Satoru’s tongue. 

And oh Satoru thinks he wouldn’t mind being on his knees every day if it meant he got to taste you like this. “Tell the camera too, sweetheart. Practice how you’ll come around my tongue.”

Those words send a jolt up your spine - or maybe it was the way Satoru was sucking harshly on your clit. “F-fuck off.”

“Mhmmm, n’ this is why I’m the better actor..”

Ugh, this fucker. And with that you fight to turn your head - looking right in the camera. Feeling so fucking lewd as you let out such pornographic moans.

“Yeah- feel s’good.” you whimper, “Wanted this for so long, ever since I first saw- ngh- you-”

And shit were you so fucking evil - at least warn a guy! Because that has Satoru’s heart lurching, almost jumping up from between your legs before it hits him with a pang - ah, right, you were just quoting your character’s lines. Of course.

Well, two can play that game.

“Yeah?” he mutters into your folds. Two fingers plunging knuckle-deep in your pussy, massaging your plushy walls. Roaming around for that one spot he knows will have you falling apart so deliciously. “Can’t believe I waited s’fucking long. Y’know how hard it was to hold back? With you wearing all those slutty skirts f’me?”

Your body is jerking violently, both at his - practiced - words, and the way he was devouring you like you were his favorite meal. His favorite taste.

So eager and in-character with the way he was setting such a dizzying pace on your poor cunt. Slick trailing down from his fingers, all the way to his wrist. So sloppy and- Pressing down. Hard. “Found it.”

And you can only sit there and take it, such cute little whines of Satoru’s name leaving you as he leaves no mercy. Jaw grinding deeper and deeper, maddening. Aching as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over. And you were so-

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Truthfully, he didn’t even have to ask - if the way you were trembling and squeezing so fucking tightly around him was anything to go by. “Go on darling. scream my name. Show off f’the camera like you do best.”

“Sh-shit. Toru- fuck yes-” you’ve got an iron-tight grip on his hair now, pulling and angling him as you pleased for more. Barely able to let out those strained lil’ moans, definitely not with the way he’s dragging your sloppy pussy all over his face. Fingers cramping up from how rough he was going - but still not stopping. 

“Go on. Cum f’me.”

And then you are. Letting out such a teary, strangled moan of Satoru’s name as you cum all over his face. 

And it’s not just for the camera either - because this orgasm is probably the best one you’ve had in a while. So hard that you don’t even realize you’re arching and rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Using him. 

And he doesn’t stop you. Why would he? You were so pretty falling apart all because of him. He wishes he could see this more often…

“S-Satoru.” you mewl, overstimulated. Jolting with each flick of his tongue, trying to close your legs but you can’t - he won’t let you. Greedily lapping up all your sweet juices, everything that you give him. 

“Nope.” he drawls, finally pulling away, delicate strings of your slick snapping as he does. Looking so fucking drunk off of you that it makes your cunt quiver exhaustedly. “C’mon now, sweetheart, you were s’pposed to say my character’s name. S’how the scene goes.”

Oh. Shit, you got too caught up. But one look at Satoru - eyes half-lidded, hair disheveled, your juices glistening all over the bottom half of his face so prettily - tells you he was much the same. 

“Well…” you huff, voice shot. “According to the script you were supposed to stuff that-” pointedly eyeing the achingly hard cock straining his pants, “-in my mouth first before eating me out. So here we are.”

With a chuckle, he rises slowly. “Touché.” Looking you straight in the eyes - and probably into your very soul - as he pops his fingers into his mouth. One by one. Groaning at the taste of your sweet sweet juices while he sucks them clean. “But I don’t think I’d last one second with those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

And it almost makes you want to tease him for it - one of Hollywood’s biggest It Boys but you can’t handle a lil’ blowjob? But all of that gets stuck in your throat as Satoru starts peeling off his shirt ever-so-slowly. 

Shit, you think. All mouthwatering curves and dips, all the way from his toned, milky shoulders down, down, down to those neat tufts of white peeking out from the hem of his underwear. Sculpted like he was handcrafted so meticulously - a fucking masterpiece, you had to admit. 

One that made you wish you took a longer look at all those shirtless magazine covers instead of throwing them out. One that had your thighs squeezing in such anticipation.

And Satoru seemed to be admiring you just the same, eyes locked on your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing - so ready for him. Distinctly aware of how pathetically needy you were being in front of the blinking camera, you crane your head to glance at it. Was it really capturing-

“Now now, first rule is to never look at the camera during this scene.” Only for Satoru to squish your cheeks together, forcing you into an embarrassing little pout as he turns you back to face him. “Look at me.”

And oh you can’t not look at him. 

Especially when he tugs his pants down, just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, so fucking long and pretty. Smearing glossy precum all over his abs, flushed your favorite shade of pink, rock-hard and so so angry. Shit, he was so hard it looked like it hurt. 

“Satoru…” you breathe, legs wrapping around his slutty waist to pull him closer. Only needier despite that little nagging voice wondering how the fuck you’d take his sheer size.

“Sweetheart?”

“I remember he didn’t do a lot of waiting in the script.”

And God were you right - but Satoru doesn’t think he could’ve kept this act of restraint up any longer even if you weren’t. Too impatient, too starved, his sanity dancing away from him with each second his fat cock wasn’t stuffed inside your pretty cunt. 

“Mhm.” he purrs, one hand reaching down to drag his fat head up and down your slit. Heavy balls squeezing painfully at the way your lip wobbles in frustration. Up and down up and up and- “You’re right.”

And then it’s like something snaps.

Because it only takes a split-second for Satoru to start splitting you apart on his massive cock. Big fat tears pricking at your eyes at the feeling that he was pushing all the way into your lungs. 

“Sh-shit, s’fuckin’ tight-” he lets out a low grunt at the slight resistance, taking everything in him to not just fuck into your snug pussy and use you like his little plaything. “You gotta hah- relax, pretty girl.”

You needed to relax more - to breathe maybe, just something. You weren’t even in the right state to wonder whether that little nickname was in the script - and God was Satoru thankful for that. Because all you can think of is how you never imagined what the bane of your existence would look with his cock stuffed in your dripping cunt - but now that you’ve seen it, you think you’ll imagine it for many lonely nights to come. 

“Hey, now. Don’t get camera-shy just yet.” Satoru gives your ass a playful smack. “After all, this is only the best- part-”

Each word is punctuated with shallow, mindless little thrust to fit himself inside your dripping pussy. Such cute lil’ whines leaving your swollen lips that he really can’t help but tease you a bit. Leering down at your fucked-out face with a smirk, “Or- my bad. Forgot such a scene would be hard for a rookie.”

Oh, did he know how to press your buttons just right. 

Because immediately, you’re blinking away the delirious haze in your eyes, voice so adorably shaky - but determined - as you grit out, “Bring it on, you B-list wonder.”

That’s all that has to be said before he’s finally bottoming out inside you, mercilessly. Inch by fucking inch. You gasp as his twitching balls smack your ass so lewdly, feeling his veins beat in such a slutty lil’ thump! thump! thump! against your heavenly walls. 

“T-Toru- big- ngh- too fuckin’ big. M’gonna break mpf-” his lips claim yours. Partially because it’s been way too long since he’s kissed your pretty lips, and partially because Satoru might just cum right then and there if he let you run your mouth. 

So he lets his hips do the talking instead. 

Cooing into your mouth at each little ah! ah! ah! every time he stuffed you full of his dick, quick, experimental thrusts to try and find that one spot he knows will have you falling apart so prettily.

“Sounds so beautiful, sweetheart.” rocking his hips faster into yours. So hard you were sure he’d leave marks. “No camera in the world can pick up how fuckin’ perfect ya are. Can’t ngh- pick up those cockdrunk lil’ heart eyes.” Angling your chin just so that your sinful expression is caught on camera, “Shit do ya even know you’re doing those? Might just make me lose it for real tomorrow. Might just make me sneak you off to the dressing rooms n’-” Manicured fingers digging into your hips while he fucks you in jagged, purposeful strokes. Hitting that one spot. Hard. “Fuck you all over again.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he smugly hits that magical spot over and over- 

And it was so sloppy - so filthy with the way Satoru still had remnants of your slick all over his lips, matching the way you were soaking his cock. Fingers moving down to draw erratic little patterns on your clit, making it even messier. 

Close - too close. 

So, so desperate and debauched.

“C’mon. Show the camera. Tell the camera how much you love it.” 

“Ngh- f-fuck you.”

“Oh? Who’s fucking who now?” he’s laughing at your absolutely wrecked state. You can feel Satoru twitch inside you as you mumble out such delirious little praises to the camera - were they coherent sentences? You’ll never know, because the next words that fall from his lips have your mind reeling. 

“God, m’addicted to you, my girl.”

“That’s not- ah- in the script, Toru.” you hiss. Close. 

“I know. And neither is that.” he leaves such uncharacteristically gentle kisses down your neck. Miles away from the relentless place on your poor, abused pussy, fucking you deeper and rougher every time despite already bottoming out. “Does it have to be?”

“Th-that doesn’t ngh- make sense.” you gasp into his open mouth. 

“Doesn’t have to.”

Maybe it’s the way Satoru’s panting those words against your lips. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking right in your eyes while he says them - like it would kill him to pull away. Maybe even that fleeting little kiss he leaves against your lips. 

Because before you know it, you’re cumming and cumming so hard that you wonder whether you’d make it out alive. The only thing you can do is throw your head back and take it, thighs quivering, Satoru’s names spilling from your lips in such broken little whines while he thrusts so sloppy. Once. Twice. 

“Ah- this is gonna have me fallin’, huh?” And then he’s letting out such a low, muffled moan of your name, filling you up with rope after rope of his cum. 

What? 

It’s so messy - his cum overfilling your poor pussy, spilling out and coating his twitching balls. Shit, you can’t even worry about whether it would stain that overpriced couch below you. Not when Satoru’s whispering out sweet- lines from the script?

“Fuckin’ beautiful underneath me. Always was.” Hips still fucking into you - not even thinking at this point. “Always will be. Such a vision onscreen, sweetheart.” So thick and hot, and dribbling all the way down your legs with every movement.

And then Satoru’s lips are finding yours again, tasting so unfairly sweet while he drinks in all your cute breathless gasps. “Such a vision f’me.”

Those weren’t from the script either.

Something soft. Something scary. Something that has you looping your legs tighter around his waist, letting him collapse onto you. Pulling him closer, in fact, because now that you know the weight of his body on yours, it just felt so right.

It takes a moment of silence for you two to catch your breaths, the still rolling camera being the last thing on your minds. Neither willing to speak first, because shit Satoru might’ve gone to countless red carpets and film sets but this - you are what strips him away from all the glamor and fame. Until he was just, well, embarrassingly Satoru.

The Satoru that was now shifting shyly in your arms, trying to get up. “Uh- Hell of a way to run lines, huh? Better check the camera n’ see where to impro-”

He might be one of the biggest actors in modern Hollywood, but Satoru didn’t fool you - not one bit. So without a word, you’re tugging him back to rest against you. Heart lurching just a little bit as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Like a little hideaway - from the camera, from the world, hell, maybe even from you.

“Y’know,” he flinches ever-so-slightly at your teasing tone, giving you a playful bite. “I have one area of suggestion and it might just be that you’re too good at ‘running lines’.”

“...Good enough to win those five Oscars?”

“No.”

“Then guess I better prove it to ya, huh? Is the camera still on, sweetheart?”

Just then, some weird little part of you thinks that, hell, maybe you don’t hate Gojo Satoru after all.

Not anymore, at least. 

---

The Enemies-To-Lovers Trope of The Century?! Hollywood’s Biggest Rivals Sport Matching Hickeys (And Smiles) On-Set of Upcoming Film.

Oops! Gojo Satoru's Phone Wallpaper Accidentally Exposed: Surprise, Surprise It’s His Leading Lady! More on Page 6.

“No Comment. Though, I Have Moved Trailers. Twice.” Anonymous Manager Speaks on Latest Movie Rumors.

Director Is All Smiles As He Raves About Upcoming Romance Movie. “Hell, If I Didn’t Know Any Better I’d Say They Were Really-”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[iydiamartinx]

TERRITORY, MARKED II

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Reader ft. Dick Grayson

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto word count: 2.1k synopsis: Damian makes an unexpected friend at the dog park—but when his older brother tags along one day and takes a little too much interest, Damian decides one thing for certain: this was not supposed to be a shared friendship. a/n: I decided to combine it with another request I received to make this the part 2 y’all have been asking for 🩵

Damian knew something was off.

It started with the glances. The subtle shifts in conversation whenever he approached. The way you and Grayson—Dick—would exchange these brief looks, like you were sharing some silent joke he wasn’t invited to.

It was insulting. No—infuriating.

This was supposed to be his friendship. His space. His routine. You were his friend. Not Grayson’s. 

At first, Damian tried to ignore it. Tried to convince himself he was overreacting. Maybe his brother was just being his usual obnoxious self. Maybe you were just… humouring him.

But the evidence was piling up too quickly for him to ignore.

Grayson was starting to show up at the dog park more often. Then you started asking if it was okay if he was invited along. And then came the final straw—one afternoon, just as Damian was about to leave, he doubled back to grab the water bottle he’d forgotten on the bench… only to see the two of you walking off together, laughing, neither of you having noticed him.

It was all suspicious. Highly suspicious.

And so, Damian did what any rational twelve-year-old assassin raised by the League of Shadows would do.

He launched an investigation.

“I need surveillance,” he said flatly, arms folded across his chest as he stood in front of the Batcomputer.

Jason looked up from where he was cleaning a pistol, one brow already arched in suspicion. “On who?”

“Grayson. And Y/N.”

Tim spun slightly in his chair, squinting. “Wait—Y/N? As in Dick’s dog park friend he never stops talking about?”

“She’s not his friend,” Damian snapped, voice sharp with offence. “She’s mine. And Grayson and her have started acting suspicious.”

Stephanie leaned around the monitor. “Aww, are you jealous?”

“I’m being cautious,” Damian corrected with a scowl. “There’s a difference. They’re hiding something. I need confirmation.”

Cass blinked slowly. Then nodded.

“Thank you,” Damian muttered, grateful someone understood the importance of betrayal.

Duke, who had been sitting quietly with a protein bar half-unwrapped, finally looked up. “Let me get this straight—you want us to help spy on Dick… because you think he’s stealing your friend?”

Damian’s eyes narrowed. “He is stealing her.”

“Okay.” Duke took a bite. “And this isn’t just you being twelve and melodramatic?”

Damian didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he turned back to the Bat computer and brought up a file he’d already prepped—complete with time stamps, satellite footage, and a grainy photo of you and Dick walking to your car. Side by side. Smiling.

“Evidence,” Damian said grimly, narrowing his eyes at the screen. “But I need more. This tells me nothing of what they’re trying to hide.”

The others exchanged a look—equal parts amused and knowing. It wasn’t hard to guess what was going on between you and Dick. Especially with how happy Dick seemed to be lately, Steph and Cass had even caught him humming on his way out the door the other day.

Jason chuckled under his breath, tossing his cleaning cloth aside. “Kid’s already built a case file,” he said, standing. “Might as well help him.”

Operation Find Out What Those Two Are Hiding was surprisingly successful.

Within forty-eight hours, Damian had assembled a full investigative task force. Tim handled the digital trail. With a few taps and zero guilt for the invasion of privacy, he pulled location pings, overlapping time stamps, and even access to security footage from the café down the street. 

Stephanie, armed with glitter gel pens and far too much enthusiasm, took charge of the psychological profiling. “Body language doesn’t lie,” she said, flipping through candid snapshots she’d printed and annotated with notes like ‘eye contact: flirty’ and ‘distance: suspiciously close.’

Cass…no one knew what she was really doing all they knew was she was able to get the candids for Stephanie without being seen.

Duke volunteered to monitor Dick’s mood whenever he was at the manor, noting things like “that he was happier more than usual” or that “he smiled at his phone three times in a row.”

Jason, of course, took it too far. He attempted a staged “coincidental run-in” at the dog park—sunglasses, hoodie, and a golden retriever he borrowed from a neighbour. It was a solid plan in theory… until Dick recognized him instantly.

That failed mission had one upside: it’s how you met Jason. Who you learned wasn’t named Todd, like Damian kept calling him—at least his first name wasn’t. While he learned you were a pretty cool chick and that he absolutely loved your dog. 

And Damian—naturally—had taken to shadowing the two of you himself. He followed from rooftops, behind trees, under benches. He was determined to catch you both in the act—to find out what exactly you two were hiding from him and that if you lied and that Dick was truly your favourite. 

And then, finally, it happened.

On Friday afternoon. You and Dick stood near your car just outside the park, laughing about something he said. You reached up, probably to fix his collar, still laughing under your breath when Dick leaned down and kissed you.

Damian burst out of the bushes so fast the squirrels scattered.

“AHA!”

You jumped, half-screaming. Dick whipped around, startled. “Damian?!”

“I knew it!” Damian shouted, pointing at you both like he was delivering a verdict in a courtroom. “You two betrayed me!”

“Dami—” Dick started, hands raised in surrender.

“No!” Damian growled. “You were supposed to be my friend! He already has everyone else! He has Alfred, he has Father, he even stole Titus!”

Titus, who had come to the park alongside your husky and Haley, stood dutifully nearby. At the accusation, he gave a quiet chuff, more confused than guilty.

Dick opened his mouth, possibly to argue that he had not, in fact, stolen the dog—but thought better of it. One look at Damian’s furious expression told him now was not the time for logic.

You blinked, torn between guilt and trying not to laugh. “Damian…”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he snapped, spinning on his heel. “Unbelievable. I trusted you.”

“Says the one spying on us,” Dick called after him.

“I regret nothing!”

You sighed, shooting Dick a look that landed somewhere between why are you both like this and I’ll handle it. He raised his hands in surrender, clearly trying not to smile, and stayed behind as you jogged after Damian.

“Hey—wait up!”

He didn’t slow down. Not at first. He stalked ahead, shoulders stiff, fists clenched, radiating righteous betrayal in every step.

“Damian,” you said more gently, catching up beside him. “Can you just—stop for a second?”

He did. But he didn’t look at you.

You stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “Look, I get why you’re mad. And I’m sorry you found out like that. But can I explain?”

His eyes narrowed, arms crossing tightly across his chest. “Go on, then.”

You took a breath. “We’ve been going out and we didn’t tell you because… we weren’t even sure where it was going. It’s still new. We didn’t want to make things weird if it didn’t work out.”

Damian said nothing, but the way his jaw clenched told you he was at least listening.

“I didn’t keep it from you to hurt you, Dami.” Your voice was soft, honest. “I didn’t stop being your friend. You’re still my favourite person to talk to at that park. That hasn’t changed.” You smiled a little, tilting your head to meet his wary gaze. “It never will.”

Damian glanced up at you, uncertainty flickering behind narrowed eyes—but the tension still clung to his small frame like armour not yet set aside.

“And now that you know Dick and I are… seeing each other,” you continued carefully, watching his expression, “that just means we get to hang out more. I promise—no more secrets. No weirdness. I’ll even bring my dog around to play with yours outside the park. And I’ll make sure Dick doesn’t always tag along, so you and I can still have our talks. Just the two of us.”

Damian stared at you for a long moment. His scowl didn’t vanish entirely—but it wavered. Just slightly. The hard lines of suspicion around his mouth eased, and that sharp, ever-scrutinizing glare lost some of its bite and he stopped looking like he was preparing to exile you.

“You’re not just saying that to get me to stop being mad?” he asked, eyes narrowing—not with anger this time, but with cautious hope.

“I am saying it to get you to stop being mad,” you admitted, lips curving. “But I also mean it.”

A huff escaped him—equal parts reluctant and resigned.

“…Fine,” he muttered, arms folding. “But I’m still watching you both.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

He looked at you then, fully, with narrowed eyes and a serious edge to his voice. “If he hurts you, I’ll replace all the sugar in his apartment with salt.”

You grinned. “That’s fair.”

And just like that, he turned and marched back toward the bench, shoulders squared, chin lifted, every step radiating the proud dignity of a boy on a mission.

You followed behind him, a quiet smile tugging at your lips.

Dick raised his brows as the two of you returned. “We good?”

Damian didn’t answer. He just sat down on the bench with all the grace of someone doing you a favour.

“If you hurt her,” he said flatly, eyeing Dick without blinking, “I will make you regret it.” Dick opened his mouth, but Damian steamrolled ahead. “We’re watching a movie at the manor tomorrow. You’re both coming. And I pick.”

You bit back a giggle as Dick shot you a helpless look. You just nodded, already amused.

Dick shrugged in surrender. “Fine. But if you pick Kill Bill again, I’m leaving.”

Before Damian could respond, five voices shouted in unison. “Can we join?!”

You and Dick jumped as bodies popped out from behind trees, the vending machine, a parked car—Tim, Steph, Cass, Duke, Jason and even Bab’s all coming to gather around you all.

Dick groaned and nearly facepalmed. “Were all of you idiots spying on my date?!”

You covered your mouth to muffle your giggles, eyes crinkling as you looked down at Damian beside you. His arms were crossed, face as impassive as ever—but there was the faintest hint of smug satisfaction in his expression as Dick launched into a full blown scolding.

“Welcome to the family,” he said dryly.

← Previous Chapter ✯ Next Chapter →

[sh4nksslvt]

One Month With You

In the final month of your life, you cherishes fleeting moments with your crew, hiding a terminal illness until only memories—and a letter—remain.

red hair pirates x reader | whitebeard pirates x reader | strawhats x reader | ONE SHOT tags: angst, sfw, ooc, major character death, grief, terminal illness a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe and akward word count: 2.6k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

RED HAIR PIRATES

The sea was calm that morning, the kind of quiet that made even the waves seem to hold their breath. The deck of the Red Force was alive with chatter and light laughter, but you stood by the railing, letting the wind sweep through your hair. Your fingers curled around the wood, your gaze far off—not at the horizon, but somewhere past it.

One month. That’s what Hongo told you when he unknowingly confirmed your own suspicions. You’d been hiding the worsening symptoms for months—fatigue that sank deep into your bones, the relentless pain in your chest, the occasional blood you’d spit out into the sea, unnoticed.

You knew he’d figure it out eventually. He was too good not to.

But you hadn’t expected him to burst into your quarters the night before, shaking with barely restrained panic.

“What the hell is this?!” Hongo had yelled, thrusting a tattered medical report into your hands. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say something?!”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. “Because I didn’t want to be watched like a ghost who hasn’t died yet.”

Silence. Deafening.

“...You have a month, Y/N, maybe less. You’re—” His voice cracked. “You’re dying, and you're acting like it's nothing?”

“I have a month, Hongo,” you had said quietly. “Please… just let me have it. Don’t tell the others. Let me spend it with them. Please.”

He didn't answer for a long time. When he finally did, it was with a whisper: “You’re a fucking idiot.” But he pulled you into a hug and didn’t let go until your shoulders stopped shaking.

From that day, you lived more fiercely than ever. You laughed at Shanks’ dumb jokes and drank with him until the world blurred. You challenged Benn to silent stargazing contests, betting on how many shooting stars you’d catch. You dragged Limejuice to island carnivals and flirted shamelessly until his face burned red. You played cards with Hongo, even when your hands trembled too much to hold them.

They all noticed. The Red-Haired Pirates weren’t stupid.

“You’re real clingy lately,” Limejuice teased one night, bumping your shoulder with his. “You sure you’re not sick or something?”

You smiled, heart twisting. “Would you be mad if I said I might be?”

He laughed, oblivious. “Nah. I’d carry you myself if you keeled over.”

You didn’t say anything. Just leaned into his warmth.

Shanks was the hardest. He noticed too much. Noticed how often you disappeared below deck when the coughing fits hit, how your eyes stayed on the ocean longer than they should have.

“You thinking of leaving us?” he asked once, half-joking.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “No,” you lied.

Benn just watched. Always watched. He didn’t say much, but you could feel his eyes lingering on you, searching. You gave him your brightest smiles.

The day you left, the crew didn’t know.

You made breakfast with Chef-level effort, joking with the kitchen staff, slipping kisses to Limejuice's cheek and hugging Shanks tighter than ever. You sat with Benn for hours on the deck, your head on his shoulder, watching the sun creep across the sky.

“I think you’re my favorite,” you whispered, teasing.

He snorted. “Don’t let Shanks hear that.”

He didn’t know that was the last time he’d feel your heartbeat against his side.

That night, you slipped away. A letter for each of them tucked under your pillow. A note for Hongo too:

"Thank you—for letting me pretend I wasn’t dying. I love you all too much to say goodbye."

Morning broke in chaos.

“Where the hell is Y/N?!” Limejuice shouted, tearing through the ship.

“They’re not in the galley, or the crow’s nest!” Benn called out, panic rising in his usually calm voice.

Shanks was quiet, unusually still, staring at the empty hammock where your scent still lingered.

The notes were found soon after. One by one, hands shaking as they read your last words.

You didn’t say goodbye, but each letter bled with love.

“To Shanks — Thank you for making me feel like I belonged in the stars.”

“To Benn — You saw through me. Thank you for not saying anything.”

“To Limejuice — Thank you for reminding me how fun life could be.”

“To Hongo — I’m sorry I made you carry this alone. Thank you for letting me be selfish.”

They thought you ran. Were taken. Benn demanded a search party. Shanks was pale, silent, gripping your letter so tight his knuckles bled. Limejuice punched a wall. Hongo said nothing—for two days.

And then, he snapped.

He threw your medical file onto the table during a heated meeting, eyes wild. “They didn’t leave!....They died. And...I let them.”

The room fell to a breathless silence.

“You knew?” Benn whispered.

“They had a month. They begged me to let them spend it with us, like nothing was wrong. And I let them lie.”

Shanks stumbled back, as if struck. “No. No, they were… they were fine.”

“They were dying, Shanks! They couldn’t breathe without pain, they were—” Hongo’s voice cracked. “They spent their last strength loving us.”

No one spoke.

Limejuice fell to his knees. “We didn’t even say goodbye.”

Later that night, Shanks sat by the railing where you always stood.

“I hope you’re watching the stars from up close now, Y/N,” he murmured, tears streaking his face. “Because we’ll never stop looking for you in them.”

WHITEBEARD PIRATES

You’d always imagined dying quietly, maybe on an empty shore, wrapped in salt and wind. But fate had other plans. Your end would come not with isolation—but surrounded by laughter, drink, and the stubborn, unbearable warmth of the Whitebeard Pirates.

The diagnosis came on a cold, cloudy day—so ordinary it felt like a betrayal.

You'd passed out during training. Woke up with Marco’s worried face looming over you. He’d examined you in complete silence. But his shaking hands and tight jaw told you everything.

“It’s not good, is it?” you asked, voice barely a whisper.

“No,” Marco had said, the word cracking as it left him. “It’s... terminal. A rare degeneration of the lungs and heart. I don’t—there’s nothing I can do.”

You didn’t cry. Instead, you laughed. “So, what—you’re saying I won’t outlive my goldfish?”

He didn't laugh. He looked like he’d been stabbed. “You have a month. Maybe.”

You made him promise to keep it secret.

Just him and Whitebeard.

When Oyaji found out, he sat beside your bed and gripped your hand with those massive, shaking fingers. “You are my child,” he rumbled. “And if this is your last voyage… then let it be the greatest of your life.”

You had never cried before. But you cried then.

From that day, you threw yourself into every moment.

Ace was all fire and impulse, but when he was around you, something softer flickered beneath the surface. He took to dragging you along for sparring matches, even when you claimed your muscles ached.

“I need a challenge,” he’d smirk, sweat glistening down his neck.

“You just want to show off,” you’d tease, raising your fists anyway.

He was always careful not to hit you too hard. Not that you said anything—but he seemed to know. When you tripped one day, coughing blood into your sleeve when he wasn’t looking, he’d jogged over, helping you up without a word. His hand lingered on your arm just a second too long.

That night, you sat beside him, both of you perched on the edge of the ship with your legs dangling into the air.

“You’re weird lately,” he mumbled, eyes on the moon.

You bumped his shoulder with yours. “Just thinking how lucky I am.”

He blinked at you. “To be with us?”

“To be with you,” you said, gently. And he froze, eyes wide, like he didn’t know what to do with that.

“…You’re gonna break my heart, aren’t you?” he whispered.

You smiled, because you already had.

Izo became your confidant without even knowing it. With every eyeliner flick and matching kimono, you gave yourself permission to feel alive. They would hum as they painted your face, hands warm against your cheeks.

“You’re glowing,” they said once, adjusting the red ribbon they tied in your hair.

“Death becomes me, huh?” you joked, and they slapped your arm, scandalized.

“You joke about dying too much.”

You didn’t mean to, but your voice cracked. “It’s easier than pretending I’m not scared.”

Their fingers paused, lips parting. “…Are you scared?”

You looked at them in the mirror, the shimmer of gold powder across your eyelids catching the light. “Yeah,” you said. “But not when I’m with you.”

They smiled then, a bit sad, and leaned in to kiss your temple. “Then let’s live like hell until we drop, dear.”

Thatch was joy personified. It was impossible to be sad around him for long, and that’s what made it hurt worse.

He caught you sneaking dessert at 2 a.m. once and acted like you’d committed a crime.

“Oh-ho! So this is where my pudding went!”

“Your pudding? I thought it had my name on it.”

“I’ll accept bribes in the form of kisses or cleaning dishes.”

You kissed his cheek, and he nearly dropped the bowl.

Every stolen moment in the kitchen became a memory—dancing while covered in flour, whipped cream fights, drunken baking experiments that ended in fire. You’d laughed so hard your sides hurt, even as your lungs begged you to stop.

“You’re making memories,” he said one night, tousling your hair. “That’s what this is. You’ve been clingy lately. Like you’re trying to make every second count.”

You froze, the spoon halfway to your mouth. “…Would you hate me if I was?”

He blinked. “Nah. I’d probably try to hold on tighter.”

You didn’t tell him then. Just leaned into his side and let him talk about his dream of opening a cake café after he retires.

You knew you’d never see it.

Marco was the one who saw the cracks, and it destroyed him. You kept him close because you trusted him most—and that made it hurt more.

You caught him once crying at your door. He didn’t think you were awake.

You opened it, silently wrapped your arms around him, and whispered, “I’m still here.”

“You shouldn’t be this calm,” he rasped into your shoulder.

“I’m terrified,” you admitted. “But I’d rather spend what time I have being loved than dying slowly in a bed.”

He pulled back, staring at you with reddened eyes. “You could have told them.”

“They’d look at me like I was already dead.”

He said nothing, and you reached up to cup his cheek. “Promise me… promise you’ll wait. Let me leave on my own terms.”

“…Okay,” he whispered. “But I’ll hate you for it.”

You kissed his forehead. “I hope you do.”

You left them on a quiet morning.

Then you slipped away, leaving only a bundle of letters on Marco’s desk.

Your final message was simple:

“Don’t let them hate me for this. Please. Just let them think I ran.”

The ship erupted into panic by nightfall.

Ace punched through a wall. “They’re gone?! What do you mean GONE?”

Izo ran through the corridors, calling your name until their voice broke.

Thatch turned the kitchen inside out like he expected you to be hiding in the cupboards, laughing.

Marco couldn’t speak.

He stood at the rail, gripping the wood so hard it splintered beneath his fingers.

Whitebeard stood behind him, silent, his massive shadow cast across the deck like a shroud.

“Do I tell them?” Marco rasped.

“No,” Whitebeard rumbled. “Not yet. Let them rage. Let them mourn in their own way.”

“But—”

“They wouldn’t understand it now,” he said. “Wait.”

A week passed. Then two.

No sign of you.

Your room remained untouched. Your absence echoed louder than any cannon fire.

They scoured islands. Questioned strangers. Considered kidnappers, Marines, even betrayal.

Ace refused to accept it. “They wouldn’t leave us! Not without a word. Not without—something.”

He went to Marco, desperate. “You know something. Tell me.”

Marco finally broke.

He gave Ace your letter.

Ace read it once. Then again and again. Then crumpled to the ground, screaming into his fists.

“They died?! All this time—they were dying?!”

Marco stood frozen, guilt crawling like acid beneath his skin.

“They didn’t want you to mourn them before they were gone,” he whispered. “They wanted to be loved, not pitied.”

Ace couldn’t answer. He just sobbed, curled around your crumpled letter like it could still warm him.

That night, Whitebeard gathered his sons and daughters.

He read your letters aloud. One by one. Each one aching with truth, memory, and love.

“To Ace — You made me feel alive, even when I was already halfway gone.” “To Izo — Thank you for making me beautiful when I felt invisible.” “To Thatch — You made every day sweeter, even the ones I didn’t think I’d survive.” “To Marco — Thank you for holding my secret when it crushed you. I love you most for that.” “To Oyaji — You gave me a family when I had nothing left. Thank you… for letting me die a Whitebeard Pirate.”

By the end, the deck was silent.

No sobs. Just breathless grief.

They didn’t throw a funeral.

They held a feast.

Not because they weren’t mourning—but because they knew you’d hate to see them broken.

They told stories. Passed your favorite drink around. Laughed, cried, and danced with ghosts.

And when the fire died down, Ace stared at the embers and whispered, “I hope you found peace, flame-heart.”

STRAWHAT PIRATES

You didn’t plan on dying at sea, but the Grand Line has a way of making plans for you. The first signs were subtle: a lingering fatigue you chalked up to busy days, aches you blamed on training, the dull pain in your side that you laughed off when Chopper asked if you were okay.

You knew before he did. Deep down, your body had been whispering the truth long before the words made it onto paper.

It wasn’t until you collapsed in the hallway between the kitchen and the infirmary that Chopper realized something was seriously wrong. When you woke up, it was to the sterile smell of the medical bay and his wide, terrified eyes.

“I ran every test,” he said, voice trembling. “And then I ran them again. It’s… it’s bad. Really bad.”

You nodded. Your throat was too dry to answer.

“I—I can’t fix it. Not with what we have on board. Maybe if we got to a major medical port, but even then, I don’t know if—”

You reached out, resting a hand on his tiny shoulder. “How long?”

He hesitated, ears flattening. “A month. Maybe.”

You didn’t cry. Not then. Not even when he begged to tell the others.

“No. Please. Let me have this. Just a month, Chopper.”

“They’ll never forgive me.”

“They will,” you said. “If they knew now, it’d ruin everything. I don’t want pity. I want memories.”

So you began to live. Fully, recklessly, as if the pain eating away at you was just a shadow at your back.

You started with Sanji. He was the easiest to be around, the one whose affection was loud and constant. Every meal became a moment: you insisted on helping in the kitchen, even when he protested. You chopped vegetables until your hands hurt, stirred sauces while leaning against him, snuck little bites when he wasn’t looking.

“You’re here a lot lately,” he said one afternoon, handing you a bowl of soup.

“I like watching you work,” you replied.

He grinned. “You trying to steal my heart, love?”

You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Maybe.”

He went quiet for a beat. Then, more softly, “You look at me like you’re memorizing my face.”

You didn’t answer. Just smiled.

Zoro came next. You sparred with him almost every day now, ignoring the way your lungs burned, the way your legs shook. He didn’t say anything the first time you collapsed mid-match, just silently carried you to the infirmary.

“You’re pushing too hard,” he said.

“I need to,” you whispered.

“Why?”

You looked at him, really looked. “Because I don’t want to forget what it feels like to fight beside you.”

He frowned. “You’re acting like you’re running out of time.”

You forced a smile. “Aren’t we all?”

That night, he found you on the deck, staring at the stars.

He sat beside you, arms crossed. “You’re not saying something. I don’t like it.”

“I’m just tired.”

“I’d carry you, if you asked.”

Your heart ached. “I know.”

Luffy was harder.

He didn’t notice at first. You were careful around him—too careful. You laughed with him during meals, ran across islands with him, challenged him to stupid games on the deck. But he began to notice the way you lingered during hugs. The way you stared at him too long. The way your smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes.

One evening, you lay beside him on the figurehead, watching the horizon.

He turned his head toward you. “Are you gonna leave?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You look like you’re saying goodbye.”

You looked away. “I’m not. Not yet.”

He was quiet for a while. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to either.”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and didn’t let go until you both fell asleep.

ou made time for everyone else too.

With Nami, you spent lazy afternoons in the library, pretending to study charts. She taught you how to draw maps. You traced the oceans of the world with your fingers and imagined places you’d never see.

“You’re getting good at this,” she said.

“I want to leave something behind,” you murmured.

She didn’t understand then. But she would.

Usopp was a light in the dark. You asked for bedtime stories, exaggerated tales of heroism and romance. He performed them with full sound effects, arms flailing, voice booming.

“You always laugh now,” he noted one night.

“It’s easy, when I’m with you.”

He blushed, scratching the back of his head. “You’re acting like I’m the best part of your day.”

You smiled. “You are.”

Robin gave you quiet comfort. She didn’t ask questions. She simply read to you, let you rest your head in her lap, brushed your hair back from your face.

“You’re calm,” you told her.

“You’re storming,” she replied.

You didn’t deny it.

Franky built you a swing on the back of the Sunny, facing the sea. You spent hours there, feet brushing over the waves, eyes on the endless blue.

“Super chill, right?” he said, adjusting the ropes.

You nodded. “It’s perfect.”

He caught your hand before he left. “You’re not okay.”

You looked up at him. “No.”

“Okay,” he said, voice tight. “You don’t have to be.”

Brook played lullabies for you. Sweet, simple things. You danced with him once, slow and clumsy.

“If I still had a heart,” he said softly, “I think it would ache.”

You rested your head against his chest. “Mine already does.”

Chopper was breaking. Every day, he looked at you like you were already fading. You caught him crying in the storage room once, holding one of your jackets.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered.

“You’re stronger than me,” you said, hugging him.

“I hate lying.”

“I know.”

You waited until they docked at a small island for supplies.

You left at dawn.

Left behind the stargazer chair. The flowered book. The slingshot. The meals. The love.

Left behind a stack of letters in Chopper’s room.

When the crew realized you were gone, Luffy panicked first.

“They wouldn’t leave! They’d never leave!”

Zoro was already on the dock, scanning the shoreline. Sanji lit a cigarette with shaking fingers.

They searched the island. They waited at the ship. They called for you until their voices cracked.

You didn’t come back.

That night, Chopper gathered them in the infirmary.

“I didn’t want to break the promise,” he said, voice trembling. “But… they’re gone. They were dying.”

No one moved.

“…What?”

“They only had a month. They asked me to let them live… without pity.”

Nami burst into tears. "They should’ve told us,”

Zoro punched the wall.

Luffy stood in stunned silence, until he screamed your name into the ocean wind.

They read your letters together. All huddled in the infirmary, hearts shattered.

“To Sanji — You made me feel wanted, even when I felt like a ghost.” “To Zoro — You were my anchor. I always knew where I stood when I was beside you.” “To Luffy — Thank you for being the sun. I needed the light more than you’ll ever know.” “To the Crew — You made me part of a family. You made me more than a dying story.”

They held a quiet vigil on the deck.

Brook played your song one last time. Robin scattered petals into the sea. Chopper lit a lantern and let it drift across the water.

They stayed on that island for days.

Then, they sailed forward—quieter, heavier—but with your memory in their hearts.

You were their nakama.

You were their heart.

You always would be.

[lady-of-endless]

"Veiled Intentions" (Hwang In-ho/Player 001/Front man x player!reader)

Summary: No game of cat and mouse ends well.

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who voted for this fic to be done first. I'm happy to provide. He might be a little obsessive, but you should've expected it by now. Don't worry; I got a softer, heartfelt, and angsty fic on the go for tomorrow. Hope you'll enjoy this one until then, darlings!

(Squid Game masterlist here)

Whenever he flashed a smile to the team, no one noticed how the coldness of his eyes was somehow still persistent. The charm of his smile always eclipsed that detail. It was enough to successfully manipulate most players, except for you. The only one who seemed to see the bigger picture was you and he could sense it. No amount of calculated smooth-talking, apparent encouragement, or fake short smiles could trick you too.

The others seemed to accept him easily, either for the calmness that made him seem reliable or for the vital need to have more people with the same vote. Not you, and it was clear to him.

In-ho had a plan going on; he had no intention of wasting time and trying harder to trick you too, letting you do your silent judging. But still, you were slowly becoming more and more present in his mind. You weren't warming up to him, weren't impressed like the others. Why not? More importantly, why did he like it that way? You were smarter and he enjoyed watching you analyzing everyone around, including him. Yes, you were a problem for him, but he was almost proud of having such a fascinating problem to take care of.

In-ho was too good at looking relieved, and joyful whenever the other players from player 456's team made it during the games. You noticed a strange spark in his eyes whenever you also completed the games. Was he really relieved or just glad that with each game he was getting closer to taking care of you personally?

Even now, he was watching you silently when the speakers announced bedtime. You all remembered what was the plan Gi-hun came up with to stay safe and looked around for a lonely bed bunk. Your constant doubt pushed you to come up with a plan to figure him out and now it was the perfect time to strike.

In-ho was ready to make a strategic choice when your voice interrupted his thoughts again.

"Join me?" You asked bluntly, with a warm smile on your face. A fake smile, a reflection of his. He looked at you, raising an eyebrow at your proposal. "For bonding time, getting along." You added, encouragingly, almost playfully, not to stir suspicion in others.

All the other teammates noticed how you kept your distance from him and were glad to see you try to get along.

In-ho almost wanted to chuckle at your reasoning but his expression remained composed. He could tell that you were trying to convince him with your charm and that you only played a role. And he was doing the same.

"Lead the way then." In-ho responded calmly, as always.

In-ho had a small, almost imperceptible smirk on his face the whole time following you, and his eyes were glued to the nape of your neck. How could he ignore you?

You crawled carefully under a bed that was placed closer to a corner no one else chose. A shiver ran down your spine when he joined you effortlessly, making almost no sound at all. The lights dimmed. However, that wasn't the problem. The problem was that the space from under the beds was not enough for two. Both of you were lying down on your backs, staring at the bed from above. His shoulder was pressed against yours, the feeling was impossible to push aside.

You closed your eyes tightly, cursing the tight space and sighing deeply. Why didn't you think this through? In-ho was amused by your frustration and how your body tensed next to his.

"You seemed so sure about this." He teased with a mocking tone he didn't even try to hide.

The way his voice sounded so intimate in the dark and how his warmth surrounded you, were making it hard to stick to the plan. You grew a little hotter under your clothes but you had to go for it. You took a breath in and spoke in a whisper.

"I can see right through your tactics." You said bluntly, still looking at the bed from above to avoid his gaze, knowing how intense it gets sometimes. You were almost proud of the sternness of your tone. "What are your intentions?"

He didn't respond right away, taking time to just look at your expression. In-ho was a meticulous man, he was expecting that question sooner or later from you.

"Wasn't I clear from the start?" In-ho asked calmly, almost innocently, switching his position to lay on his stomach and elbows, never losing sight of you. That position forced you to look up at him, exactly the way he liked it. He was getting too comfortable for someone who was cornered. Seeing how there was no sign of panic or surprise on his face, the previous boost of confidence was starting to slowly diminish in you.

"I think we both know what I mean." You added coldly, letting him know you've had enough of his games. He could feel your patience running thin and he was enjoying it.

Your assumption was true; you were so close to figuring it out but, at the same time, so far away, so clueless about what he really wanted, what he really was capable of. It gave him the freedom of acting anyways he wanted for a little bit.

"Indeed." He said, seeing an opening and moving a hand to the opposite side of your face on the floor, making it look like he was just supporting himself and not caging you. "And that's because you're playing the same games, don't you agree?" He asked smoothly. He watched as you rolled your eyes and looked away to hide your real reaction, taking you longer to respond. In-ho didn't insist, wanting to take his time exposing you bit by bit. When you turned your head back at him to answer, your heart halted, words dying. Your eyes met intimately, his face was even closer than expected.

"It won't work with me." His breath touched your lips. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear to see your face better. He frowned when he caught himself giving in to his instincts, his fingertips caressing your cheek and stopping on your lower lip without thinking.

"But your tries were..." He added, applying pressure on your sensitive skin and moving his lips even closer to yours slowly. "Entertaining, to say the least."

In-ho watched your expression closely, observing the details of your face in the dark. He couldn't get enough that moment but his face didn't betray any sign of the greed that was coursing through him. So he didn't stop there, using the momentum of your shock.

"Was it fun?" He asked, mercilessly but blissfully tormenting and playing you. "To feel like you had the upper hand?" He whispered while his hand descended to the base of your neck.

In-ho looked at your parted lips again, waiting for your answer and not moving away. There was a storm of conflicted thoughts in your mind and the warmth of his palm on your pulse point was not helping you find a good answer in time.

"Answer me." His grip tightened slightly, his tone smooth yet demanding. "And look at me, darling"

You looked up at him and nodded, admitting silently. Finally, you understood what you got yourself into and felt more than exposed. It was frustrating how easily he switched the roles from being the one interrogated to the one asking whatever he wanted.

You shivered at the sight of his subtle smirk. It was nothing like the bright fake smile he offered to the team. One corner of his lips curled upwards while the rest of his expression remained composed. His eyes glinted with icy, calculated sharpness. Finally, you could see him, whoever he was, and not the simple player 001.

In-ho was studying her, thinking about how you weren't aware of the effect you had on him from how well he was concealing it. Still, none of your questions were answered.

"What are you going to-"

"Hush." He murmured against your lips, cutting your words. "Don't wake the others."

In-ho slowly traced your collarbones through the thin material of the shirt with your player number and placed his whole palm on your chest over your racing heart. He paused, just to feel your heart, taking credit for its hectic beating. The silence that surrounded you was not helping either, you could hear every breath, every move, enhancing the intimate feeling so much you had to remind yourself that you were still in the middle of a sick challenge with daily deadly games.

He looked back into your eyes and spoke softly, seeing your inner conflict, wanting to distract you from it. "I've caught you staring at me so many times."

"I was just spacing out." You whispered, not hesitating this time but still telling him another lie.

Even the always calm, rarely out of character In-ho chuckled at that. It was a pleasant, unfiltered but still strange sound.

"Liar." He said while caressing your hair again but making sure to tug gently at the roots as a warning. "You had so many opportunities to push me away since we got under here." He whispered, almost tenderly, meaning it. His eyes were not locked on yours. Was it because he was letting himself think out loud? "But you don't want to do that..." He added, pausing his touches, giving you time to object. But the truth was that your denial ended with him calling you 'darling'. That waited objection never came and In-ho understood.

With that, he allowed himself to take what he wanted. He thought to himself that it was inevitable. His lips found yours with an unexpected gentleness despite his restrained hunger. The hellhole you were trapped in seemed to fade away with the way his lips explored yours. His fingers tightened possessively against your skin as the kiss deepened. His warmth was embracing you blissfully but his tongue was making you dizzy with each breath he was stealing from you.

After what felt like time, bending to his will, In-ho broke the kiss slowly. Even if you didn't say a word, he still covered your lips with his finger for a moment.

"I'm expecting you to still be smart about this and keep it private." He spoke in your ear, an expectation or a warning. "Do that and you'll be safe no matter what."

What you couldn't understand was that this was a hidden promise. If you kept whatever he gave you a secret for yourself, he would pull all the strings to get you alone with him, away from that game.

[kamaluhkhan]

WE DESERVE A SOFT EPILOGUE, MY LOVE.

pairing: vi x firelight!reader word count: 2k summary: after years of thinking her dead, ekko brings vi to the firelight base. you don't really know how to react when the girl you grew up loving is now a woman you know nothing about and still, somehow, feel everything for. warnings: arcane level angst + lesbian yearning. reader is referred to with she/her pronouns. reader has tattoos and a star-shaped birthmark behind her ear (y'all know vi loves a nickname and i thought 'stargirl' was v cute so i had to make it work). fic gets slightly suggestive at the end ;) author's note: happy act iii release day!!! i wrote this instead of working on my thesis oops. in my defense, vi has sparked something in me that i simply cannot ignore. i'm also working on a werewolf! pitfighter!vi x vampire slayer!reader fic (set in the same universe, just with a slight twist) sooo that might be done before part 2 of this fic (which is where the smut happens hehe). anyways, thank you for reading!

inspired by that quote: "i think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love. we are good people and we've suffered enough" by nikka ursula

even after all these years, vi is still the first one to notice you. 

her eyes widen as she hesitates to pull away from ekko, but you clear your throat to catch both of their attentions.

“i thought we were gonna question her together.”

ekko wipes a stray tear from his cheek and stands up a little straighter. 

“you were taking too long,” he shrugs. “don’t worry — she’s clean.”

you trust ekko’s judgement, but you still can’t reckon with the fact that vi is alive. you’d splashed cold water on your face just before to make sure you weren’t dreaming. 

“i don’t know.” you walk closer until you’re standing arms length from vi. “the vi i knew wouldn’t be caught dead with a topsider, let alone an enforcer.” 

you examine her carefully, and you imagine she’s doing the same to you. vi looks more grown up — stronger and sharper. you’d spent so much time in limbo, not knowing if she were alive or dead. you aren’t sure how to react when the girl you grew up loving is now a woman you know nothing about and still, somehow, feel everything for. 

“i guess the shoddy undercut is a pretty clear give away,” you deadpan.

vi quirks an eyebrow at you. “shoddy, huh? you know, your tattoos look like they were drawn by blindfolded children.”

she smiles, all bright and toothy. the scar on her upper lip stretches, achingly familiar, and you decide there’s nothing you want to do more than to bring her into your arms, to bring her closer, so you do. 

her hair tickles your cheek as you whisper:

“i did those tattoos myself.”

vi chuckles, and you feel it vibrate across her body to yours.

“i know. they’re beautiful.” her index finger traces the star-shaped birthmark behind your ear; you shiver. “i was just messing with you, stargirl.”

vi was the only one who ever called you that, said you made her life brighter or some other sweet nothing that would effortlessly fall from her mouth.

gods, she was the first one who even noticed that birthmark on your skin. 

“i was messing with you, too. the hair — you look hot.”

you feel her heart beating faster against your chest as she smiles into your shoulder.

she’s here.

she’s not some ghost from your past.

she’s really here. 

you’re so overwhelmed by how solid she is against you that you start to pull away, but vi catches your hand before you can fully untangle yourself from her. 

“that’s all i get?” she wonders, licking her lips.

you’re tempted, very tempted, to give her more. maybe you would have, until ekko clears his throat behind you.

“should i….give y’all a moment?” ekko asks. “i’ll go get the piltie.”

you then remember who vi came here with; she might not be working for silco, but you stand by your suspicions at her bringing a topsider to the lanes. 

you slip your hand from hers. you roll your shoulders back as if that would really shake away the hold she’s always had on you.

time has passed. things have changed. neither of you are kids anymore, and you don't have the luxury of indulging in a frivolous crush.

“it's fine, e. let’s show them around.”

“still a night owl, i see.”

vi finds you perched on one of the trees highest branches, surrounded by firelights as you sketch something. you close your sketchbook instantly and place it on the other side of you when vi sits down.

“thought you’d be in bed with that enforcer of yours.” 

“her name’s caitlyn.”

“caitlyn,” you scoff, shaking your head. 

the bitterness you try to hide is all too transparent to vi, who has to bite back a laugh at your pettiness. 

“you say her name like you’re gonna hex her. never pegged you as a jealous ex.”

“technically, we never broke up,” you point out. 

a firelight lands on your hand, and you let it crawl up the lines etched on your skin. 

“if that’s the case, i owe you an apology for cheating on you when i was in prison.”

you frown, but say nothing, your eyes following that same firelight as it illuminates your tattoos. 

“don’t worry, i’m kidding!” vi pauses. “mostly.”

the firelight flies away, and you huff out an annoyed breath. 

“whatever. i don’t care who you’ve fucked, or who you’re fucking. and, you don’t owe me anything. it’s not like we’re anything to each other, anymore.”

vi sucks in a sharp breath — she wouldn’t have expected such harsh words from you.

“is that why you can’t even look at me?” she finally asks.

you’d been strictly business since you first reunited hours ago. you expertly distanced yourself from vi all throughout the tour of the firelights’ base, and throughout dinner, too. 

where’s the girl she’d spend hours goofing around with, who always had a witty response to her sarcastic remarks, who smiled at her in such a way that made her chest glow? where’s the girl who brightened vi’s life when it seemed like the darkness would never leave?

“i don’t know,” you admit. “part of me still can’t believe you’re alive. i know that i should be happy that you are, but i keep thinking about everything i could have done to protect you, and powder —”

“hey. it’s my job to worry about everyone, remember?”

“you weren’t here.”

“i am now.”

she gently moves your chin so that you face her, so that you can see that she’s not going anywhere, at least for tonight. 

which is probably more time than either of you thought you’d ever have together again.

vi notices how your eyes flick down to her lips and back up, and she feels something spark in her chest. but then, you shake your head as though trying to wake up from a dream and turn away once more. 

“that enforcer of yours —”

“she’s not my —”

“whoever she is, she talked about how we all need to heal. i just keep thinking about what you’ve been through, what we’ve all been through…. how it never really stops. healing would be nice, but it’s hard when you have to keep fighting every day. you remember what ekko said, about why we chose this place?” 

of course, she remembers. 

“that if even a seed can survive down here, maybe we could, too.”

 “we. who’s ‘we,’ vi?” you laugh, but there’s no joy behind it. “we’ve gotten used to surviving without each other. maybe it was meant to be that way.”

“that’s not fair.” 

“a lot of things aren’t fair.” you gesture around at the base. “this — this community — took blood, sweat, and tears to build and i just know how easy it would be for someone to destroy it all. which is why we fight, obviously, to protect all this and each other, but i’m scared that we can only do so for so long before we burn out.”

you press your knees to your chest and curl into yourself. vi notices then — the slump of your shoulders, the shadows beneath your eyes, and just how deeply exhausted you must feel, down to your bones. 

you let out a shuddery breath. “is it even all worth it?”

vi swallows the tears building in her throat. you had always been the hopeful one, and it makes vi’s chest ache to think about what you must have endured to lose the brightness that had been woven into your being. 

that's part of what got her through these past few years, and there's no way she's going to let it fade.

“i....i think so,” vi starts, trying to find it within her to be inspirational. “maybe it'll make a difference in the long run, even if we don’t see that now. maybe someone, someday in the future, will be able to not just survive, but live in a better world.”

you raise an eyebrow at her, and vi swears there's a slight smile on your face.

"what?" she asks, her cheeks heating up.

"i'm just...surprised. how is it possible that prison made you less cynical?”

there's a glimmer to your eyes that wasn't there before, something playful, and vi decides to lean into it.

"oh, it wasn't prison," vi says, nudging her shoulder against hers. "see, i ran into this pretty girl from my past and she's this totally badass freedom fighter now, so i think there's some hope in the world."

you snort. "good to know you're still an unbearable flirt."

"i thought you loved that about me."

you laugh, a sparkling sound that vi wishes she could carry with her wherever she goes. it’s contagious, too, and vi finds herself giggling along with you. when it dies down, you rest your head on her shoulder, something you did even back when you were only friends.

“i missed you,” she admits. 

“yeah?” your voice is softer than a whisper. 

you lift your head and vi cradles your face in her hands.

vi nods. “so fucking much, and i want to prove it. if you’ll let me. please.”

“vi,” you exhale. she’s so close now that she can feel you breathing against her lips. “i can’t. you’re with that enforcer.”

“we’re not together,” vi assures, bumping her nose against yours. 

she leans in ever so closely to kiss you, but you move away. 

“you’re still with her, though, and you’re leaving in the morning,” you continue. “things are already so….complicated. i just don’t think we should start something we won’t be able to finish.”

with nothing more to say, you gather your sketchbook and pencils. vi’s sure that you’re not going to bed, just off to nestle into another hiding spot for the night, away from her.

maybe you’re still putting up a cold front, protecting yourself because that’s how you've been surviving in this world where the risk of losing everything lingers, and only gets heavier as you grow older.

but, gods, vi really has missed you, the you she remembers so vividly, the you that shone through just moments ago. she knows that glowing heart of yours is hardened by layers of ice, and she’s determined to make them all melt away.

so, vi gets up, heart beating in her throat, and calls after you:

“haven’t we already?” 

you stop in your tracks. you slowly turn around to back at her.

a moment passes, maybe more. the two of you suspended in time. your eyes are telling her a million different things – you’re confused, you’re scared, you’re tempted, you’re tired – and all vi can do is unsuccessfully blink back more tears because it’s true, how your story together never got the happy ending you deserved. 

“please, y/n. if this is our second chance, even just for a night —”

she’s cut off by you crashing your lips against hers.

the two of you were young, really, just girls when you first kissed. it was awkward and messy and though it ignited something in the pit of vi’s stomach, it was nothing compared to this.

she lets you guide her as you please, lets you press your warm body against hers against the trunk of the tree. she lets your lips mold into hers until her lungs are burning. 

your chest is heaving as you pull away slightly; vi bites back a whine, feeling empty. but air isn’t what she needs, she’s sure of it. what she really needs is more of you.

you study her like a work of art, like you're committing her to memory in case she slips away. your thumb wipes away a fallen tear, across the tattoo on her cheek. 

fuck, no one's held vi this tenderly since, well, you.

“you’re so beautiful.”

vi blushes, becoming increasingly flustered. she'd wanted to make this about you, take care of you in all the ways she'd imagined, but the way you're looking at her, touching her....she's not a religious person, but vi thinks she might have stumbled into her own, personal heaven, with you having some divine hold on her, soft and bright and passionate.

you're kissing down her neck, nipping at her collarbone when you repeat: "you're so fucking beautiful."

“yeah, i know. they should build statues of me,” she breathes, closing her eyes and trying to keep upright on weak knees. she squeezes your hips in an attempt to keep herself steady.

you’re the only person vi can recall calling her beautiful. 

sexy? oh, yeah. charming? definitely. hot? often. 

no one else calls her beautiful, though, let alone makes her feel like it the way you do.

“bad at flirting and full of yourself," you tease. "some things really don't change."

by now your lips are travelling lower, and vi doesn't want to miss a second watching you have your way with her. when her eyes flutter open, vi gets a glimpse of something over your shoulder.

“hm, i guess drawings are a good place to start.” 

she gestures with her chin, which she instantly regrets as you pull away to follow her gaze, eyes landing on the sketches of her from your fallen sketchbook.

“you weren’t supposed to see those,” you groan. "they're personal...."

it's cute, how flustered you get after making vi all hot and bothered.

vi smirks. "personal, huh? had some fun picturing me when i was gone? missed me so much you had to draw me back to life?"

"well, no - wait, yes, obviously, i missed you, but --"

vi cuts you off with a searing kiss.

she tugs on one of your belt loops to bring you closer to her. vi presses her thigh between your legs, relishing in how your mouth opens in a perfect gasp. vi takes the opportunity to bite your bottom lip and you whimper.

“don't be embarrassed, baby," vi mumbles against your mouth, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your hips. "you know i missed you, too. 'cept i'm not talented like you, so my creative imagination had to carry me through some long nights."

“is that so….” your hand slips underneath her tank top, and you manage to pull a groan from vi by scratching your nails against her stomach. “maybe you can clue me in to what, exactly, you’ve imagined.”

vi grins triumphantly. she places a kiss on your birthmark before whispering in your ear:

“sure thing, stargirl.”

[rafecameronssl4t]

How about Pope/JJ having a crush on Topper’s younger sister which is also Rafe’s girl and him making sure he knows his place and the fact that she’s his girl. Maybe she’s the island sweetheart and she’s nice to everyone, and sometimes she hangs out with the pogues (despite her brother and boyfriend hating that) and Rafe noticed how the boy looks at her and decides to put on a little show to prove she’s his girl 🫣🥹

Get in losers, we’re going shopping || Rafe Cameron x Thornton!reader

A/n: This was so fun to write thank u for the request 🫶

Warnings: swearing, suggestive, possesive/jealous!rafe, if there’s anything else lmk

Word count: 1,837

MASTERLIST (rafe x thornton!reader au masterlist)

Divider by @yoonitos

mood board

As you drive along, a smile creeps across your face when you notice JJ and Pope walking on the side of the road. You slow your car, matching their pace, which causes them to exchange puzzled glances before coming to a halt.

Rolling down your window, you lift your sunglasses, locking eyes with the two boys. Their confusion quickly shifts to recognition, and a mix of surprise and curiosity spreads across their faces.

“Hey boys,” you greet them with a smile. “Oh—hey, y/n,” Pope stammers, making you giggle. “This your new car?” JJ asks, patting the sleek Porsche. You hum in response, “want a ride?” you offer sweetly.

The boys exchange a quick glance before sprinting to the passenger side, shoving each other. In the end, Pope manages to snag the seat, and you laugh at their antics.

“I’ll sugar momma you guys today,” you wink at them, moving the stick into gear. They grin widely, and you drive off, the engine purring smoothly. “So, where are we—” Pope starts, but he’s cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. Rafe’s name flashes on the display, and the boys visibly tense up, their smiles fading as discomfort sets in.

“Hi, Rafe,” you say, your voice carrying a mix of warmth and caution. “Hi baby, whatcha doin’? Thought I might come over to yours in a few minutes, gotta see Top for something too” Rafe’s voice fills the car, a smooth and confident drawl.

“I’m out right now, and I won’t be home for a bit,” you reply, tapping your finger against the steering wheel. The boys sit in tense silence, trying to act nonchalant but clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. The cheerful energy from earlier is all but gone, replaced by a palpable tension that hangs in the air.

It’s silent on the other end before Rafe speaks up again. “Right, where—where are you right now? You with anyone?” he stutters, his tone shifting to one of suspicion. Pope’s eyes widen, and he freaks out. “I don’t think we should be here right now,” he mutters under his breath. Eyes wide, you slap a hand over his mouth. “Shut up, dude!” JJ whisper-yells, trying to keep his voice low. You throw JJ a look that clearly says he isn’t helping.

Hearing the voices, Rafe stands up from his seat, his eyebrows furrowed. “Who was that?” he questions sharply. You glance at the boys, feeling the weight of the situation.“Uh, I’m just with Pope and JJ,” you quietly admit, bracing yourself for Rafe’s reaction.

There’s a brief, tense silence on the other end of the line, and you can almost hear Rafe’s jaw clench. You know how your boyfriend feels about you hanging out with them, and the tension in the car thickens as you wait for his response.

“Are you serious right now? How many times have I told you I don’t want you hangin’ around with them?” He angrily says. You roll your eyes, already feeling the annoyance building. “Rafe, I’m not having this conversation with you right now, okay?” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

“No. We’re having this conversation right now. Does Topper even know you’re hanging out with those Pogues?” Rafe snaps back, his tone leaving no room for argument. You let out a frustrated sigh, glancing at Pope and JJ, who look increasingly uncomfortable.

“Rafe, not right now. I’m hanging up, okay? Hanging up right now—” you begin, but Rafe interjects, “Don’t you dare—”Before he can finish his sentence, you press end call. The car falls into an uneasy silence as Pope and JJ sit there quietly, processing what just happened.

“Uhm, so that just happened,” Pope says, staring out at the road in front of him as you chuckle. “I’m so sorry you guys had to hear that,” You apologetically say, biting your bottom lip anxiously, “Nah, don’t even worry about it,” JJ reassures you as you smile at him through the rearview mirror. “Do you guys wanna get some gelato? I’m craving some right now,” You offer as you turn into the main road of Kildare.

~

Opening the door to your house, you pause for a moment as your eyes fall on Topper and Rafe lounging on the sofa. Topper is scrolling through his phone, barely glancing up at your entrance, while Rafe reclines with a smug look on his face.

“Where have you been?” Topper asks, his gaze still fixed on his phone. You hesitate, glancing at Rafe, whose smirk only deepens. “Uh, did Rafe not tell you?” you ask, your voice tinged with confusion since you for sure thought that he would tell your brother who shared the same disdain towards JJ and Pope.

Rafe raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the discomfort he’s causing. “Tell him what?” he says innocently, leaning back further into the cushions. “Oh, nothing. I was just hanging out with my friends,” You say as you slip off your sandals, Topper giving you and Rafe a suspicious look.

“Yeah, okay. How’s your new car, by the way? Have you scratched it yet? Cause if you did, you know Mom and Dad will throw a fit,” Topper says casually, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. You roll your eyes, feeling the familiar sting of his passive-aggressiveness. Without responding, you turn to leave the room.

Rafe gets up from the sofa and follows behind you, his expression unreadable. “How does my little sister end up with a Porsche for her first car anyway? It’s fuckin’ unfair,” Topper’s voice jeered from the adjacent room, his tone laced with mockery. “Shut up, Topper!” you retorted, frustration seeping into your voice as Rafe let out a soft, amused snort.

“What are you doing here, by the way?” you ask Rafe who shuts your door behind him as you set your shopping bags down on the ground. “Can I not see my girlfriend?” he says with a playful smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief as he lounges comfortably on your bed.

You pause, studying his expression for any hint of underlying motive. “I just thought you wouldn’t wait for me after I told you who I was hanging out with,” you say cautiously, carefully avoiding mentioning JJ or Pope by name.

Rafe’s response is nonchalant, almost dismissive. He simply shrugs, as if your concerns are of little importance to him. “Don’t care,” he replies coolly, his tone betraying no trace of emotion. You lean against your window, raising an eyebrow at his nonchalance. “Really?” you say, not quite believing him.

He hums, his expression unchanged. “Yeah, really.” You slowly nod, still feeling a bit skeptical. “You coming to the party tonight, right?” Rafe speaks up, breaking the tension as you throw your new clothes into your hamper. “I didn’t even know there was a party tonight, but sure,” you shrug, before collapsing on top of Rafe, who exaggerates a loud groan in response, playfully protesting your weight.

~

Getting out of the car, you could already feel the curious stares people were giving your way as Topper and Rafe walked up behind you. The beach was buzzing with activity, and you took in the scene, noting the mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces.

Scanning the crowd, you quickly spot JJ and Pope hanging out with a few others near the bonfire. They notice you and wave enthusiastically. A smile spreads across your face as you lift your hand, ready to wave back, but before you can, Rafe grabs your hand firmly.

“C’mon, let’s get some drinks,” he mutters against your ear, his breath warm on your skin. His tone is casual, but the grip on your hand leaves little room for argument. You glance back at JJ and Pope, who are now watching the interaction closely, their expressions shifting to concern.

Reluctantly, you let Rafe guide you towards the makeshift bar set up on the sand. Topper falls into step beside you, his presence adding to the tension. “Here,” Rafe passes you a drink as you gratefully take it.

“What are you looking at?” you ask, staring at Rafe’s side profile. He turns to you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pulls you closer. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” he mutters, his tone trying to sound reassuring but tinged with irritation.

Following his earlier line of sight, you glance over and spot JJ and Pope. They’re laughing with a group of friends, seemingly unaware of Rafe’s intense gaze moments ago. Your stomach tightens as you realize he’s been watching them.

Rafe’s grip on you tightens ever so slightly, a subtle reminder of his possessive nature. You look back at him, trying to gauge his mood, but his expression is a mask of casual indifference. The contrast between his actions and his words leaves you feeling uneasy,

“Let’s go,” Rafe suddenly stands up, grabbing your hand abruptly, “What?” As soon as Rafe is standing up with you following along, you hear the whistles and low muttering of people. “Everyone shut the hell up!” Topper groans, watching his little sister and bestfriend walk off.

“Rafe, where are we going?” you ask, glancing back at the crowd, feeling the weight of their stares and the palpable tension in the air. “Shh, it’s fine, we’re just going back to your car,” Rafe says, pulling you closer. He leans in to kiss you, and you feel his smirk against your lips. His hands begin to wander, moving further down your back, his touch both familiar and possessive.

“Rafe,” you pull back slightly, your voice tinged with concern. “It’s fine, yeah? Please?” He looks at you with a familiar intensity, his eyes pleading yet commanding. It’s a look you know all too well, one that mixes affection with an undercurrent of control.

Playfully rolling your eyes, you unlock the car and gently push him before settling down on his lap. His arms wrap around you tightly, holding you close with an almost possessive firmness. You can feel the strength in his grip, the way he presses you against him, as if asserting his claim over you.

“You’re mine, y’know that, right?” he mutters against your neck, his breath warm and slightly ragged. “Mhm, I know that,” you mumble, your hands running through his hair. His fingers dig into your waist, drawing you even closer. His scent, a mix of cologne and the salty sea air, envelops you, creating an intoxicating mix of comfort and confinement.

You tilt your head slightly, allowing him better access to your neck as he continues to murmur possessive reassurances.

~

“Y/n?” You lift your head just as you finish zipping up your shorts. “Hey—” The greeting dies on your lips when you find yourself face to face with JJ. “What are you doing here?” you ask, awkwardly chuckling and smoothing down your hair. The sound of Rafe exiting the car behind you adds to the tension.

JJ’s eyes trace your appearance before flicking behind you to Rafe. “We were just about to, uh, leave,” he says, scratching his head. You nod awkwardly. “Hey, Y/n,” Pope greets as he joins the scene, sensing the uncomfortable vibe. You manage a smile at him. “Hi—” you start, but your words falter as Rafe steps up beside you, still buttoning his shirt. JJ and Pope stand there awkwardly, waiting, while Rafe ignores their presence.

“Did you guys have fun?” you ask, attempting to lighten the mood. Rafe finally looks up, a smirk playing on his lips as he glances at the boys. “Yeah, yeah, it was fun, I guess,” Pope replies hesitantly. JJ’s pained smile shifts between you and Rafe. “You guys sure did, huh?”

Rafe snorts at JJ’s comment, prompting you to slap his chest lightly. There was awkward silence before you speak up, “Did you guys want a lift back?” you offer.

Before they can respond, Rafe interjects, “Baby, you’ve had a few drinks already. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”JJ rolls his eyes at Rafe. “It’s fine, we’ll find our own way home,” Pope says, his smile tinged with sadness. You nod slowly.

“Yeah, you do that,” Rafe says dismissively, pulling you back towards the group. “Come on, babe.” You glance back at JJ and Pope one last time, mouthing a silent apology as they briefly wave goodbye. The expressions on their faces stay with you—a mix of disappointment and hurt that you can’t shake off.

[monzabee]

diet pepsi - ln4 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where you and Lando have a rather interesting way of resolving an argument. 

Pairing: lando norris x fwb!reader 

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: kinda cute ass fighting so fluff??, sex in a car, fingering, penetration, manhandling, no use of protection (wrap it before you tap it!!), cursing, minords dni!! 

Request: “okay but what about good old car sex with lando pleaseeee” 

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! first of all, who knew addison rae had the power to make a song that made me write this whole thing under 3 hours?? i certainly did not. secondly, i thought it would be nice to take a little break from the charles-carlos drama, and before i finish the third and final part to that little mini-series, i thought you guys would enjoy a little treat in the meantime! i have to admit writing for lando again was an interesting experience for me, but who knows, maybe i'll do it more often (i have one request that i'm obsessed with so that’s definitely coming your way as well!) also, i have an oscar fic in the works as well, so maybe the sudden change in mclaren also started to affect me lol. a quick psa, i know many people asked me in my last fic, but i do NOT have a taglist and i won’t be making one any time soon either! anywaaays, i hope you guys enjoy this fic, and feedback is welcome as always! thank you to the anon for their request, and good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee 

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

“I can’t believe you’re drinking that in my car.” Lando complains, shooting you a sideway glare as you sip your choice of beverage contently.  

You tilt the cup slightly in his direction, grinning. “Relax, it’s not like it’s going to explode, nor it is your car.” 

“It might as well,” Lando mutters, eyes back on the road. “Knowing your luck, the second I hit a bump, that thing will be all over the place and I’ll have to explain what happened to Zak. Do you even know how much it costs to clean these seats?” 

You laugh, swirling the drink in the cup. “You’re being dramatic, it’s not like you are the one to detail the cars you use. It’s fine, I’ve got this under control.” 

“Famous last words,” Lando grumbles. His grip tightens on the steering wheel as if he’s preparing for impact. 

You glance at him, amused. “Are you always this paranoid about your car, or is it just me?” 

“It’s you. Definitely you.” He shoots you another look, this one laced with mock suspicion. “You have a history, you know.” 

“Oh, puh-lease,” you drawl, rolling your eyes as you turn your upper body to face him. “Tell me one time I actually made a mess in your car, and I’ll throw away this can right now.” 

Lando doesn't hesitate as he answers quickly. “Monaco. Last year. You remember that smoothie incident, right?” 

You blink a couple of times, taken aback. “That doesn’t count! That was your fault for speeding around the corner like a maniac. How was I supposed to hold on to it?” 

He smirks, clearly enjoying the memory. “Oh, so now it’s my fault, huh? You were the one who insisted on bringing a smoothie into my car five minutes before a race.” 

“You didn’t even have to brake so hard,” you mutter, crossing your arms defensively. “I had it under control until you decided to turn it into a F1 race.” 

Lando chuckles, shaking his head. “Doesn't matter. I still won, throw it away now.” 

“That doesn’t count, it was clearly your fault!” You complain, holding the can protectively. “There’s no way I’m tossing this because of your bad driving.” 

Lando laughs, shaking his head. “Bad driving? I think I’d take that up with the people who hired me to race professionally.” 

“Professionally doesn’t mean you’re not reckless,” you quip, a playful glint in your eyes. “Especially when there’s a smoothie involved.”  

“Fine,” he contends, shrugging, “how about that time I made you come too hard, and you leaked onto the seats?”  

This manages to shut you down for a moment, with eyes nearly bulging out of your head, you gasp at Lando’s sudden choice of words. “Lando!” You exclaim, reaching over the console to hit him on the arm gently, “That’s vulgar!” 

Silently chuckling at your reaction, he reaches over as he places a hand on your upper thigh, his hand tightening as you hold his wrist in warning. “It’s the truth,” he reminds you with a smirk, “don’t go shy on me, now, you were the one to get the seats all messed up because of how wet you were.” If you weren’t blushing before, your face most definitely resembles a tomato now as he continues his stream of consciousness, “Not that I’m complaining, though, I’m pretty sure I came in my pants when I made you cum just from my fingers.”  

 “You– you did?” The question flies from your mouth before you can stop yourself.  

The smile that overtakes the smirk on Lando’s face is almost sweet, and he coos at the innocence of your question as he squeezes your thigh again. “Oh baby,” he coos, “it was the hottest thing ever.”  

Your thighs attempt to trap his hand as you inadvertently press them tighter together, your nose scrunching up in confusion. “But it was messy.”  

“That was the best part,” Lando confirms, his thumb caressing your skin. “I loved getting to clean you up afterwards, didn’t I? Almost as much as you loved it.” 

“Sure.” You mumble, shrugging as you do your best to ignore his burning stare. You’d be worried about the fact that he was supposed to be driving if it was someone else, but considering he’s a F1 driver, you don’t comment on Lando’s lack of his surroundings as he pushes your thighs apart. “What are you doing?” You ask, confused as he moves his fingers further up your skirt.  

“You just focus on finishing that drink, okay?” He mumbles as his fingers pull your underwear to the side. “I’m suddenly in the mood for something sweet myself.”  

“Lando, I don’t think we should do th–hat.” Your voice waivers towards the end as his fingertips press on your clit, drawing lax circles on the bundle of nerves. “Lando,” you try to warn him, but your voice comes out as a high-pitched whimper.  

He shushes you gently as his fingers spread your wetness around your skin, causing you to bite down on your lip to silence yourself. Lando lets his dissent known by clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, mumbling, “Don’t silence yourself, let me hear you, baby.” And when you give him what he wants and let out a loud moan as your hips involuntarily buck against his hand. Grinding the palm of his hand against your puffy clit, Lando uses your wetness to slowly push two of his fingers into you, drawing out another moan as you lean your head against the headrest. “My God, baby, look at you. You’re already making a mess on the seats.”  

“N-no,” you manage to whine, shaking your head as you give him a pleading but stubborn look, “I’m not making a mess.”  

“No?” He asks, mocking the pout that has found its way onto your lips. “Then who is so wet against my hand that it’s dripping, huh?” You're not sure if it’s his words or the way his fingers keep moving in and out of your cunt, but in either case, the overwhelming need of just something more causes you to attempt to put the can in your hand down, when Lando tuts again in warning, “You don’t get to put your drink down until you first come on my fingers.” 

After his words set in, you finally come to your senses, suddenly opening your eyes as you give him a shocked look. “Wha–what?” You ask, “What if I spill?” 

He shrugs, an innocent smile on his lips as he throws you a glance, “I guess you’ll just have to be careful and not spill it.” The smile on his lips grows as you let out a frustrated sound, and he responds by moving his fingers in a come-hither motion to git the spot, which causes your body to arch into his touch. “Are you going to give me what I want?” He asks, his concentration still on the road as he tries to find a secluded spot to park the car.  

“Uh-huh,” you mutter, voice shaky as you focus on not dropping the can in your hand, “I will, Lando, just keep doing that.”  

“Doing what?” He asks in a faux-innocent tone, as he goes back to simply continuing the pistoning movement of his fingers. “Like this?” He asks, with a shit eating grin on his face as you whine. “Or, like this?” He asks again, but this time, he repeats the movement of his fingers previously as he hits your g-spot again.  

You can’t control the scream that gets released from the back of your throat as your body shakes violently. “That,” you breathe out, your free hand holding onto the seatbelt so tight that you can feel it starting to cramp your hand a little bit, “don’t you dare stop doing that.” 

Lando lets out a low chuckle, clearly satisfied with your desperate plea. His fingers continue their relentless pace, teasing and coaxing you closer to the edge. “Oh, I won’t stop,” he murmurs, his tone soft yet commanding. “Not until you give me what I want.” 

Your entire body feels like it's on fire, the combination of his skilled fingers and the impossible task of not spilling your drink has you teetering on the edge. The car feels smaller, the world outside irrelevant, as Lando’s attention is focused solely on you. Being so consumed by the way Lando’s fingers move in and out of your cunt, you don’t even know that the car you are in at the moment has been abandoned in the side of a deserted road. You grip the can tighter, your hand trembling as the tension builds in your core. “Lando,” you gasp, a hint of desperation seeping into your voice. “I— I can't—” 

He smirks, enjoying your struggle. “You can,” he counters smoothly, leaning slightly closer while keeping one hand on the steering wheel. “You can do it, just let it go, baby.” His thumb presses harder on your clit, drawing another loud moan from your lips. 

“Lando, please,” you beg, your voice almost cracking under the weight of your impending release. “I’m going to—” 

“Good,” he cuts you off, his smirk widening. “Let go for me, baby. And don't you dare spill that drink." 

His words are your undoing. With one final flick of his fingers, you shatter around him, your body convulsing with pleasure as you ride out your high. Your head falls back against the seat, your hand gripping the can so hard you’re not surprised it bursts under the pressure. 

His words are your undoing. With one final flick of his fingers, you shatter around him, your body convulsing with pleasure as you ride out your high. Your head falls back against the seat, your hand gripping the can so hard you’re not surprised it bursts under the pressure. 

You hear Lando’s satisfied chuckle as he eases his fingers out of you, giving your thigh one last affectionate squeeze. “Good girl,” he murmurs, glancing over at you with a proud smile. “Look at how good you look.” He shamelessly holds his fingers in front of your face, then without missing a beat, he brings his fingers into his mouth. The way he moans is nothing short of sinful, and you watch him with your lips parted as he mumbles around his fingers, “I think you spilled it a little bit.” 

“E-Excuse me?” You stutter, looking at Lando with the horrified look on your face. “No, I didn’t!” 

Lando raises an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering as he glances down at the mess on the seat. “Oh, but you did,” he teases, licking his lips after savoring the taste of you on his fingers. His eyes gleam with amusement as he points at the spot between your legs. “Not the drink, though… you.” 

Your face burns with a mix of embarrassment and desire, your breath still uneven as you try to process what just happened. “That’s not what I—” you stammer, crossing your arms over your chest, but Lando just laughs softly. 

“Relax, love. It’s nothing a little cleaning can’t fix.” He leans back in his seat, eyes never leaving you, his hand returning to the steering wheel like what just happened was the most normal thing in the world. “Besides, I’d much rather clean you up later.” 

You feel the heat spread through your body again, and despite yourself, you can’t help but feel a wave of arousal wash over you. Lando’s confidence, the way he handles you with such ease, is almost intoxicating. But as much as you’re enjoying the moment, a small part of you knows this is ridiculous. 

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, trying to regain some composure, though your flushed cheeks give you away. 

Lando just grins, completely unbothered. “You love it,” he says casually, shooting you another one of those playful sideway glances that makes your heart race. “Admit it. You like when I make you lose control.” 

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to throw a retort his way. But you can’t deny it, not after the way your body reacted to his touch. “You’re lucky you’re good at this,” you finally concede, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Lando’s smile softens, just for a moment. “Good at a lot of things,” he says, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. Then he pulls the car to a stop, turning off the engine before leaning toward you, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “And I’m just getting started.” 

[yungistiny]

birthday boy

[ J. Yunho ]

╚��════════

summary: in which yeosang probably should of told you and his roommate he was going to do a live

warning: everyone can hear you, dom yunho, unprotected sex, deep throating, spanking, choking, established relationship

pairing: idol yunho x afab reader

genre: smut

word count: 900

masterlist

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

It’s Yunho’s birthday. They just finished their finale concert of this tour and Yeosang decided sitting in the living room while you and his roommate celebrated would be fine. So, he started a live to thank atinys for all their support, everything was going great until the first sound echoed.

It was a low, deep moan that clearly belonged to Yunho. Yeosang blanched, eyes wide and quickly he covered it up by saying Yunho was yawning. “He must be tired, it’s been a long last few days.” And though Yeosang had overheard you and Yunho many times, atinys were non the wiser.

The second time, Yeosang felt his face flush, because international fans were now in the chat making jokes, jokes that weren’t exactly jokes, not that they were aware. “I asked San and Mingi if they wanted to do a gameplay of a horror game together, Mingi said no.” He was desperate to deter the fans attention.

It’s not like he could just abruptly stop the live because that might arise real suspicions. But Yunho was getting louder and so were you, both of your moans mixing, dancing together in echoes from down the hall and Yeosang wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay live before he would have to make up an excuse, lie.

And Yunho was only loud, especially loud that night, because you were taking him so good. Gifting him for his birthday so well. His dick buried as far down your throat as it could go, you laying at the end of his bed, head hanging off the end where he stood.

His hands were everywhere as he thrusted, fucking your mouth almost as good as he would fuck your cunt. Yunho gripped your throat, thumb tracing over the center, a deep, rumbling moan leaving him.

He knew Yeosang had to of been hearing them, unaware that his roommate was live for thousands of atinys at that very moment as he finally pulled his dick from your mouth, the stretch of him down your throat gone making you cough a little.

“Only way I’m cumming is in this pussy.” Yunho was grabbing you, turning you over, fingers tapping at your aching cunt as you pushed yourself up on your knees and elbows. A loud whine of Yunho’s name left you when he lined himself up, one big hand gripping your hip, smoothing it down your ass before spanking you.

The noise echoed and Yunho smirked before plunging, thrusting into you until he was as far as he could get, until he was touching that spot that had you whimpering and crying out. Then he was relentless. Pounding into you, fucking you into his mattress, another spank against your ass before he leaned over you, hot trail of his tongue and kisses up your spine before he got to your ear. “I want you loud, let the whole building hear you.”

You gasped when his hands snuck around, gripping your throat, pulling you up until your back was flushed against his chest, his other arm wrapping around you, holding you tightly as he continued to thrust up into you, your walls clenching him, words incoherent and moans and cries loud.

Yeosang knew the second he heard you practically scream Yunho’s name, that it was too late. He felt his heart fall to the bottom of his ass and he saw a text message notification from Wooyoung who had been watching his live.

woo: EVERYONE CAN HEAR THEM TURN IT OFF OHMYGOD

Then another text from San

sannie: yunho sounds like he’s fucking y/n into next week SHUT IT OFF

“Well, I’m tired, we have a small schedule tomorrow, it’s a secret.” He was lying. They had no schedule but he had to come up with something, something else to keep atinys from the fact that Yunho was fucking his girlfriend, very loudly mind you. “Goodnight.” Yeosang ended the live and groaned.

“Fuck….. I’m…” You could feel your orgasm rising, glad Yunho was holding you up otherwise you’d probably collapse. “Come for me, make a mess for the birthday boy.” Yunho tilted your head back with the hand he still had on your throat, staring down at you, holding your gaze as you came, a scream of his name on your lips as he chased his own release.

Yunho growled, deep in his chest as his thrust became sloppy, you shaking in his hold as you came again, liquid desperate to spray from your cunt, splashing instead with every last thrust until your boyfriend came with the loudest moan you ever heard from him, your name loud on his tongue as he filled you completely full.

Yeosang hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch, perfect view of the hallway that led to his and Yunho’s bedrooms, when his roommate suddenly appeared. “Seriously?” He exclaimed because Yunho was naked, no shame whatsoever as he had been on the way to the bathroom.

Yunho froze, jumping slightly at Yeosang’s outburst, his ears turning red. “Have you been sitting there the entire time?” He at least thought Yeosang was in his own bedroom. “I was trying to do a live for atinys until the two of you oh so rudely interrupted me.”

Yunho’s eyes widened, there’s no way. Surely they weren’t heard on livestream? No. They couldn’t have been. Shit! Why didn’t Yeosang say he was going to do a live?

“Congratulations, birthday boy.”Yeosang stood up, gripping his phone in his hand as he walked past Yunho towards his own bedroom.

“Atinys know you’re not a virgin.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

permanent tag list: @straycat420 @autieofthevalley @dejatiny @hannahlilibet411 @xh01bri @jintastic-yuyu @maddycline @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @wooyoungsbrat @lucid-galaxys-world

[23xfgg]

YANDERE! BATFAM x DRUG USER/SOBER! READER

(Ch. 1)

Ch. 2 <-

(Ch. 3)

(Ch. 3.o5)

An // this is part 2 of drug user / sober! Reader and I would like to thank you guys for actually liking the last one even though it wasn’t great. I do want to clarify that there won’t be any speech in this as I’m terrified of writing dialogue sorry <3

Again I’m sorry if this sounds messy and disjointed

I will also try making a tag list (max 10 or 20) that would be included at the end of the chapters.

TW// death, drugs, depression, drinking

It has been a couple of months since you stumbled across the drug party and met Adam. Your friendship with him started as aquenences who know nobody else but each other at the function to becoming quite close. You obviously had no way to contact him other than when you see each other at the “drug pit”.

Sometimes there would just be people popping pills, drinking, smoking, snorting, etc with only a few words being shared here or there. Other days it’s like a full blown party. The place is cramped, people are rubbing their bodies on others, coke lines on a random girls chest, mixing all kind of substances together and of course music blasting so loud people outside can hear it. This place feels like a second home to you. The first being your life with your mother and never including the manor.

Thinking about that place just gives you more reason to down another shot and buy a lollipop from a suspicious man in the corner.

Your addiction was a slow start, from turning up at the alley once a week to only smoke weed and gradually increasing to popping pills, drinking along with smoking. And your presence there increased from once a week to now almost every other day. Your frequency to turning to those drugs only ever increased when Damian just has to remind you that your existence will never amount to anything and you might as well save the whole family a favour and just disappear.

Honestly, even when you tried to ignore it his words did have an effect on your mental health, making you feel more depressed. And the depression will lead to grief as you just wish your life was normal before your mom died. You missed how she will hold you when you felt sad. She knew words had little effect so she just let her presence comfort you. Feeling safe in her arms surrounded by her floral perfumes gave you a sense of security. A security now lost because she is gone. She’s not there to hold you and comfort you. So now you resort to crying out on your pillows and popping a few pills whenever you smell the slightest trace of her clean floral perfume.

To keep your “family” off your back about your actions (which wasn’t that hard) you had a simple routine after school to keep any suspicion off you. After school you spent some time in your room, changing into a hoodie and ripped jeans, telling Alfred you will be with a friend and not to say any dinner for you and then you’re off.

Off to have whatever fun you want without any of the judging eyes you would get from the bat family. Whatever fun you want without having to avoid eye contact with your “father” Bruce and his disapproving glare. All the fun you want without a tiny body big attitude gremlin (who is sadly you half brother) telling you how much of a disappointment and a failure you are to the Wayne name.

It was so easy to hide you habits from them when they themselves don’t notice you. You take little care in making sure the spotlight of their attention was not on you. Not like it was hard to begin with. They were always buys with some shit regarding themselves.

You knew all the best hiding spots around Gotham. Including the manor. So you hid your stash based on importance/ how offer you would reach for it. Your pills and week you keep in a shoebox place under creaky floor boards in your room. The slightly harder stuff you have them hidden behind loose bricks, abandoned buildings and in alleyways. And some extra cash in all those spots. Heck, you even have thoes shoes that have compartments in the hell to hide your stuff in when the manor gets a little to risky to leave stuff alone.

You have taken (not) every necessary steps to ensure that the rest of them don’t find your little part time hobby, even when you know they won’t pay enough attention to notice (or will they…). But still as long as it stays with you in the shadows it will be easier as the days go by.

You have thought about quitting. But that was just a brief thought. The high and comfort was just too much for you to leave. It helped you cope. It helped keeping you out of your own dark thoughts. You never had to think of anything regarding your life when you’re high.

All you need was just pills and a joint and you are almost as happy when your mom was alive.

Almost…

An // ahh this chapter is shiiiitt. I srs don’t know what to do here 😭😭😭

I have plans for more chapters that may or may not come just be patient and ignore the mess that is my writing.

Tag list (if I have forgotten you I’m sorry pls just comment and I will add you in the next one) : @welpthisisboring @vanessa-boo @shycreatorreview @jsprien213 @1abi

Bye bye now 🤘

[thewritingfairy]

↪ 12. Confrontation gone wrong!

PREV PART trigger warning: shouting, attempted gaslighting, medical + physical + emotional neglect, trackers, the yandereness is turning up slowly main m.list       series m.list

Nightwing’s behaviour was strange, odd even. But it wasn’t as weird as your family’s, ever since that one breakdown they’ve been acting like nothing happened. Like you’re apart of the family that they’ve shunned you from, yet they’re still keep cards close to their chess. And when you realised that Damian was showing up at your favourite hang out spots a bit too often, you got paranoid.

You always carry a messenger bag around, filled with little activities, extra medication and much more. But when you forgot it at home, or at your friends house you didn’t run into Damian. You didn’t run into your family at all.

And if your suspicions are correct? That bag is the reason why Damian keeps finding you.

You drop the contents of the bags on your bed, searching through it with such precision a surgeon would be jealous and then you found it. A trinket you don’t recognise, that looks like a magnet, but you’ve watched enough crime shows to know what it is. A tracker. “That little fucker,” you curse as you snap it without thinking. The strength that it took to do that was too much for you to use in one go, your body aching the second you broke it. “and now I’ve got high ass pain, thanks Damian. Fuck you too.”

But wait a minute, why would Nightwing follow little old you?

Why would any of the bats follow you?

You who never harmed anyone, you who is just a host at Cobblepot’s restaurant.

Either the bats are in Bruce’s pocket, or they are the bats.

The time-line of the younger vigilantes would make sense with your families time-line…. “Oh fuck no,” you curse as you quickly turn to your desk, rummaging through your drawer until you find a hard drive. You quickly plug it into your laptop and check if it works, and thank god it does. Even if you don’t know for sure that your family are the protectors of Gotham, you need to put the groundwork in for plan B. You need to send this all over to Maria, to Duke, to Francis, fuck, to everyone you can. To everyone you know and trust, you need to build rapport. Maybe… maybe even send this to your work…. No, that will be your plan C.

You make a group chat and you send a mass message; ‘Publish this if you don’t hear from me for a week and Maria doesn’t inform you where I am’. (attached; file (Name) and family incidents)

“(name),” Alfred says through the door, not even bothering with knocking. “Master Bruce expects you at dinner.”

You sigh, loud enough for Alfred to hear. “Yeah, I’ll be down soon!” you shout back as you shut off your laptop and hide your hard-drive once more. “Just need to freshen up real quick!”

When you hear him walk away you breath out in relief as you try to ignore the way your phone is blowing up.

As you ignore the way your heart fills with dread, and your body becomes tense and rigid with every step you take. You know Maria will have your back if your suspicions are correct, you know that Duke would have no issues with fucking everyone up if needed. But if your family is the ‘Bat’ family, he stands no chance. Unless… unless he’s Signal, which wouldn’t surprise you, he’s always ready to help others. But unlike the bats, he doesn’t seem afraid to get his hands dirty.

But there is no time to think about that right now, you have to face your fears.

You have to get this over with.

The moment you got to the dining hall your paranoia just got worse, especially with how Damian is staring at you, with how his arms are crossed. With how he looks like he’s been scolded through and through. Good, but you’ll still have to scold him for leaving a tracker in your bag, you will not tolerate such behaviour. And you never will, yet if you keep silent he might be bold enough to try again. To do so even smarter. “Well, you guys seem tense,” you comment without thinking as you sit down at your spot, which is next to Duke (thank god).

“Who wouldn’t be?” Damian asks, slamming his fist on the table. “When a family member has hidden their health to the extent you have!”

Your eyes snap towards Cassandra but she looks everywhere but at you. Duke clenches the arms of his chair, grounding himself before he does something he’ll regret. Luckily you have no problem with showing your anger, you have no problem with omitting the truth. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” you say as you tilt your head. “I’ve never hidden my health.”

Jason scoffs and you can see Dick roll his eyes, but most importantly you can see Bruce stare you down. A glare that you can only describe as identical to Batman’s. “Give me your phone,” he says, holding out his hands. “you’re grounded until you can tell us, me, the truth.”

You laugh, you can’t help it. “What truth?!” you shout, slamming your hands on the table. “I’ve tried telling you about my health when Jason attacked me, that I was scared about another flare up. But you dismissed it, I never lied, I just never told you.”

“You committed medical fraud,” Barbara points out.

“Can you blame them?” Duke asks, glaring at her. “When none of you took them to the hospital after they were in a coma?”

At least that gagged Barbara, too bad it didn’t shut Bruce up. “Your phone, (Name).” he stresses out, making a gimme hand motion (good thing you always have a back-up phone, huh), you throw it at them. And he catches it with ease. “Thank you.”

Jason groans, this wasn’t the confrontation he was expecting. He expected them to be harsher, not to offer you a way out by giving Bruce your phone. It pisses him the fuck off. “Oh my fucking god,” he curses, throwing his head back. “how the fuck did you get the hospital to give you surgeries, to give you researches without any adult present?!”

You stare at him, raising one of your eyebrows as you cross your arms. Looking as if you’re challenging him to explain why the fuck he thinks you would answer questions like that. And Jason is officially pissing of Duke, and from the look in his eyes Cassandra could assure Jason that he’s getting his ass beat during training. “Where’s your medication?” Stephanie asks, trying to diffuse the situation. “they’re heavy, wouldn’t it be handier if someone else handled them?”

You scoff; “iI someone is to handle my medication it’s Duke, and I don’t need help remembering how to take the pills I’ve been taking for fucking years thank you very much.”

Bruce runs his hand through his hair. “No, I am your father and we will have this conversation and you will give me your medication so that I can ensure you don’t take too much or too little!” he raises his vouce,

“Whatever,” you say as you roll your eyes, but your shoulders are tense and Duke rubs your back trying to keep him calm. “let’s just eat.”

“No,” Damian hisses out. “explain, now.”

You stare at him, wondering where he found the goddamn audacity and you reach in your pocket. Throwing the broken tracker at Damian. “When you explain this, you little shit.”

Duke curses, you never had heard such creative insults come out of his mouth. If you didn’t know better you would think these insults weren’t his own, truly he’s been spending too much time with Francis. But before Duke can stand up from his seat and threaten Damian in his face you shake your head. “Duke, glad that you at least seem to understand how grave this situation is,” you say with a smile. “but we should hear what this little shit has to say before either of us put our hands on him. He’s still a child you know, and I don’t condone child abuse.”

Unlike these fuckers, went unsaid but not unheard. It makes Duke smile. “I would love to hear his explanation,” Duke agrees. “but wouldn’t you also like to know how they got your medical history.”

You grin and pretend to have a dramatic eureka moment. “Oh, babs, did you just scold me for committing medical fraud, but how did you guys get my history?” you ask, pretending to be thinking. “ahah! You guys must have done something illegal as well? My oh my, did it also make you realise that neglect is illegal?”

It got silent, and it’s clear everyone’s waiting for Damian’s answer, but also Bruce’s comments. After all Alfred is just standing there in a corner as if he did nothing wrong. But when Bruce and Damian didn’t say anything, you grinned.

“That’s what I fucking thought.”

NEXT PART GUESS WHAT, :) this story is just going to get darker from here on out.

taglist closed: @prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue, @bunniotomia, @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @princessbonnie-bell, @seemee3, @pix-stuff, @venomsvl, @amber-content, @stove-top96, @frank-vanderboom, @leeiasure, @1abi, @shadowytravelerlover, @chericia, @lithiumval, @lingxio, @cssammyyarts, @marsmabe, @foolishseven, @kore-of-the-underworld, @bunbunboysworld, @homeless-clown, @miashico, @alwaysholymilkshake, @1cxndy, @kittzu, @rtyuy1346, @exactlynumberonekryptonite, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @artistwithcreativeburnout, @alishii, @vanessa-boo, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @91-kya, @ryuushou, @jjsmeowthie, @justthere1956, @depressed--therapist, @xzmickeyzx, @cheappremingerfromdelululand, @plsfckmedxddy, @itsberrydreemurstuff, @trashlaternfish360, @leogf, @dirtydiavolo, @lilyalone, @welpthisisboring, @kenman00001, @nxdxsworld, @icefox8155, @ironsaladwitch, @holderoflostmemories, @asillysimp, @wisefuncherryblossom, @eyeless-kun, @marina27826, @muggleloveralways, @ironsaladwitch, @shyenemyperson, @iamaunknownsecret

[sugarwarachan]

hot for teacher

chapter three previous

pairing: shouta aizawa x f!reader

synopsis: You’re not expecting your day to fall to pieces at 8:21 a.m., but life hasn’t really been going your way lately. A string of lackluster dates, followed by two dead vibrators (with missing cords!), and the only outlet left for your mounting sexual frustration—the smut blog you diligently update—has been discovered by the one person you never wanted to find it: fellow teacher Shouta Aizawa. Who might just be the inspiration behind most of the fantasies you post about.

chapter cws: just enough plot to keep the porn coming, hizashi and rumi being super obvious in their meddling, Shouta ‘talks you through it’ Aizawa, more dirty talk than is perhaps necessary, the filthiest fingering scene i've ever written, soft degradation, ("good little whore" 🤭) d/s elements but never explicitly stated

word count: 3k

andy's notes: AHHHHHH i know this is late thank you all for waiting so patiently!! AIZAWA IS DOWN SO BAD I AM GOING INSANE

Rays of sunlight dance across Shouta’s face as his alarm clock blares. Scrubbing a hand over one eye, he hits the clock and rolls over, burying his face into the pillow.

Holy fuck. 

He’s imagined you before. Knew you would look gorgeous spread out for him on any surface, but the reality of watching you cum, your mouth hanging open in that soft o, brow furrowed tight... He rolls his hips into the mattress in memory. Jesus Christ. If he’s not careful, he’ll have to rub one out before he can even start the day.

Shouta grabs his phone in an attempt to distract himself and immediately regrets it when he sees the text notification on the screen.

Hiz(ass)hi: signed us up for something!!!

He groans and presses call. It’s always better to find out exactly what his best friend's up to as soon as possible. 

“What did you do?” he asks as soon as he picks up.

Hizashi doesn’t miss a beat. “Check your email yet?”

“I appreciate what little work-life balance I have.”

“Well," Hizashi coughs, "then you might not entirely love the surprise I’ve got in store for you, but it involves a certain you-know-whoooooo.”

“Fucking hell.” Shouta swings out of bed and passes a hand through his hair, nerves shooting through his stomach. “I’m serious, did you do something weird?”

He logs into his email, half-listening to Hizashi's explanation that he volunteered them both as chaperones for the upcoming debate team competition and texted you straight after.

“Perfect opportunity to spend some more time together,” Hizashi sing-songs, just as Shouta clocks your 7:35 a.m. reply.

Count me in!

An image of you tucked into his side erupts in his head, hair tousled from sleep and sex, tired smile on your face. 

“You good, man?” Hizashi asks when Shouta lets the line stay silent. 

Hasn’t he been wanting this exactly? A chance to get to know you more?

Shouta heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Yeah, I’m good. Just really wish you’d sat next to someone else in high school.”

“Yeah, yeah. Be sure to include me in your wedding vows.”

Shouta huffs a laugh and clicks off the phone.

He doesn’t know much about the debate team, except that he can hear Bakugou and Midoriya arguing from clear down the hall. Toshinori acts as the team’s usual advisor, but he’s been in and out of the hospital lately.

He imagines the last thing that man needs is accompanying a rowdy group of teenagers on an overnight trip.

He scans the remaining names. Todoroki, Jiro, and Yaoyorozu should behave themselves, at least.

Shouta: How many of us are going?

Hiz(ass)hi: 4. You, me, Rumi, and Y/N. See you tomorrow, sucker!

Shouta isn’t good in relationships.

That’s what he’s always told himself, but it’s not entirely true. He’s simply more deliberate, more exacting in what he wants than the typical person. He sees no point in dating frivolously.

Which is probably why he spent so much time deciding how to approach you.

When Hizashi came to him with his suspicions about your blog, Shouta gave himself an ultimatum.

One story. One glimpse into your head.

It wouldn’t be fair to you to form an opinion based on words alone; words he hasn’t yet confirmed aren’t simply fantasy.  But the minute he reads the story, it unlocks a hunger in him that can’t be smothered.

He knows in his bones that it’s you. The intonation, the cadence; he can hear the way you talk to Rumi, the way you speak to the students.

And you’re fantasizing about someone taking care of you and fucking you stupid in ways he’s only considered in his head.

He never stood a chance.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a last-minute, hastily-put-together trip will result in at least one disaster.

The minibus slowly rolling to a stop along a country road is precisely such an event.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Shouta murmurs under his breath, resisting the urge to bang his hands in frustration on the steering wheel.

You peek over his shoulder. 

“Did we seriously run out of gas?”

He barely hears you; you smell like jasmine and vanilla, and if he’s not careful, he’ll turn around and haul you into his lap in front of everyone on this bus. 

Rumi laughs uproariously, rousing the students from their slumber. Jiro glares at her. “You had one job, Yamada, and you couldn’t manage filling up the tank?”

“It was full when we left, wasn’t it?” he shouts back at her.

Shouto, ever-dependable, is already typing into his phone. “There’s an inn up the road.”

Midoriya folds his body over the seat to get a look at the screen. “Oh! Do you think it’s close enough to this one temple I’ve been reading about?”

“Oi!” Bakugou barks, sweatshirt laid across his face. “Could we prioritize where to sleep and not whatever nerdy-ass thing you want to do?”

“Enough!” Aizawa bites out. “Watch your mouth, Bakugou, you’re still representing the school out here. All of you, go with Yamada and Usagiyama and book us rooms for the night. Y/N and I will stay here with the luggage.”

He ignores Hizashi’s smirk over your head.

“Some luck we have,” you say, digging a toe into the dirt as the two of you watch the group disappear into the fading light. “Do you imagine they’ll have enough rooms?”

For the sake of his sanity, they fucking will.

But as Shouta looks down the road at Hizashi’s retreating form, he knows for a fact that he sent the wrong pair of people ahead to deal with room arrangements.

Hizashi and Rumi return in a borrowed car and a slapped-together reason for the teachers sleeping co-ed that nearly makes him want to punch Yamada in the head. 

“You want to catch up on One Piece together,” is all you say, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

As you and Shouta pile into the back of the car, you nudge him with a shoulder. “Glad to know they’re both as subtle as a brick to the face.”

He nudges you back, not caring that he’s being just as subtle as his two conniving friends.

The backseat is small, and he’s by no means a small man. Even without the bumps in the road that keep jostling you close to him, you’re already practically in his lap. Excited anticipation sets loose in his belly. 

It’s been forever since he’s felt like this. Perhaps never, if he’s being honest. And by the time everyone is settled in for the night, he’s desperate to be alone with you.

“I hope you're clear that I’m not mad about this,” you say as soon as he shuts the door and faces the reality that it’s going to be very difficult fucking you in a way that doesn’t wake up the entire inn. 

He takes in your face and smiles. “Not mad about this, either.”

“Should we talk about, like, ground rules?”

He likes how direct you are, but he also knows that a part of you is asking to stall.

“I’m no expert, but the color system works for me if it works for you.”

You nod, foot tapping an anxious rhythm into the carpet. 

“Nothing has to happen. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” You smile softly, but there’s heat curling in the back of your eyes. “But I wanna feel what I felt the other night again. With you.”

He breathes out through his nose, and you grin like the little cocktease you are. 

Seriously, can he soundproof these rooms?

“You didn’t happen to bring that pleated skirt of yours, did you?"

 Your laugh is like honey. “I did happen to bring it. Should I wear it?”

“Please.”

“Got it, sir.”

The memory of your preferred words when you’ve acted out plays through his head as he suggests that you both wash up for the night. 

When you come back warm and soft from the bath, hair curling slightly at your temple, you stop straight in your tracks. 

Your eyes drop to his sweatpants and linger there.

“Eyes up here, sweetheart.”

“Sorry.” You smile sheepishly. “I was, umm. Noticing.”

His dick jumps.

“You are really big.” You’re suddenly in front of him, one hand on his chest, the other trailing down his belly. “You know, I think I’ve been wet since last night.”

Shouta’s not entirely sure what sound he makes.

“Yeah, baby?” He hitches your thigh up. “Been a little needy for me?”

You whimper your answer, faltering in your exploration of his happy trail as he rubs the pad of his fingers along your creamy slit. Your underwear is soaked through.

“I feel like I’m losing my mind a little. Like I can’t get enough.” 

“I can tell. You’re shakin’ just from this.” He pulls your panties to the side and sucks in a breath. “Oh, sweetheart. This little cunt of yours is practically drooling.”

Ignoring your little squeak, he scoops you in his arms and carries you to the bed, folding your legs on either side of his thighs. 

“Have you ever been this wet for someone else?” He doesn’t know where the question comes from, when the possession grabs hold. He cups your pussy, one hand tight on your waist. 

“No, never,” you breathe out, rolling your pelvis forward into the heel of his hand, and then you frown, bottom lip jutting out in what he knows is embarrassment. “I’ve never even cum while being fingered.” You lean forward, resting your arms around his neck. “I always thought there was something wrong with me.”

Oh.

He stills. “You trust me, sweetheart?”

You nod, a mixture of eagerness and apprehension that makes his chest squeeze. 

“Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for good?”

You wave a hand. “Yes, yes, I know all that.”

He raises a brow, but decides he can address your tone later. One problem at a time. 

“Lay over my lap, y/n.” 

You arrange yourself accordingly, brushing your tits against his thigh as you do so. His palm twitches. 

“We’re gonna have a little lesson, sweetheart.” He caresses the back of your thighs. Your breath hitches. “Spread your knees wider, there you go. Lift your ass up for me, too, can you do that?”

Before he gives you time to think, he flips the fabric of your skirt over your hips and lands a crack on your ass. You squeal, fingers tight in the bedsheets.

“oh my fuck oh my fuck, harder,” you keen, thrusting your ass back at his palm.

Shouta bites down on his lip hard just to maintain some semblance of reason.

You’re fucking made for him.

“Did you say there was something wrong with you?”

Another smack makes the meat of your ass jiggle. You muffle the sound you make in the sheets beneath you and Shouta frowns.

“Nah ah, baby.” He lifts your chin up. “Let me hear you, huh? Can already tell you like being punished.”

“But our students might hear us, Shou,” you say, squirming in his lap. The nickname steals his breath. “I don’t want to be embarrassed like that.”

“Like that?” He raises an eyebrow and laughs softly when you rebury your face into the mattress. “We'll talk about that later, huh? But you’re right. Good thinking, sweetheart.”

Even that simple amount of praise makes your eyes glaze over. He doesn’t know if you fully understand how long he’s wanted someone to place their trust in him like this

“Grab the pillow, and use that to help stay quiet,” he directs you. “No one but me will hear you this time, okay?”

“Thank you.” You twist on your forearms to smile at him. “I know we do a lot of stopping and starting. Thanks for being cool about that, too.”

He has no idea what kind of scumbags have mistreated you before, but he’s happy to erase their influence on you however he can.

“Stopping and starting is par for the course.” He motions for you to sit up. “Should have done this first anyway.”

Shouta’s never been one to wax poetic, but the moment he presses his mouth to yours, he’s a goner. Your hands tangle in his hair and tug, demanding greater access. He grants it, grinning like a fool while you lick your way into his mouth.

“Stop smiling.” You pull away with a mock huff, but you’re smiling, too, and you don’t look annoyed in the slightest. “It makes it hard to kiss you.”

“We were in the middle of something.”

Your eyes gleam. “Are you gonna spank me again?”

He pulls you to him as a chuckle rumbles out of his chest. He cradles the back of your head and caresses the slim bit of skin exposed above your skirt. “Eager?”

You sigh and press your face into his neck. “Very.”

“Take your clothes off, then, and get back on my lap. Keep the skirt on.”

Shouta flips up the fabric again, massaging the exposed skin when you wriggle. The tips of his fingers brush dangerously close to your slit, and you drop your hips to chase the sensation.

“Ass up, sweetheart.” He jiggles his leg under you. “And answer my question.”

“Yes, yes.” A spark of irritation colors your tone. “I said there was something wrong with me.”

“Still believe that?” He finally touches you, knuckles sliding through your gummy folds, savoring the way your back bows at his touch. You’re soaking and trembling from this alone. “Your thighs are wet, honey. I’m pretty sure you’ll cum around my finger the second I slip it in.”

“Oh god.” Your voice is a reedy little gasp, high with embarrassment. 

He sees the mirror across from you on the wall, and an idea sparks. Rearranging you on his lap, he spreads your legs wide and grabs your chin, directing your gaze to where your cunt drools arousal all over his lap. 

“There’s nothing wrong with this slutty pussy of mine, is there, baby?”

The hitch in your breath is reward enough. A slow smile spreads across his face as you shake your head.

“That’s exactly right, honey. Nothing wrong with my girl.” 

He teases your hole with the tip of his fingers. You shudder in his arms, keeping your eyes locked on his in the mirror.

“You think I don’t like seeing how good I’m makin’ you feel?” 

This entire time his cock has been leaking pre and throbbing against the side of his leg. There’s no rush, he knows, because watching you like this will probably have him spilling in his briefs anyway.

He slides a finger up to the knuckle, plugging you up tight. Your eyes roll back in your head when he rolls his thumb over your swollen bud. 

"What’s wrong, sweetheart? That bratty tone from earlier gone already?” 

He adds another finger, the hand on your waist holding you still as you keep squirming. A feral part of him knows exactly how deep his cock is going to be inside you as he presses down on your lower belly.  

“Maybe you’ve never cum like this before because no one’s given you what you needed. Ever think of that, sweetheart?” His gaze scorches you in the reflection. “No one knows how much you like your cunt stuffed up tight. Little whore likes being used a bit roughly, doesn’t she?”

The sound you make is sinful, a shuddering sigh of happiness and arousal that momentarily stops his breath. 

“Please, Shouta.” You’re doing your best to be quiet, but he’s not making it easy on you. You fall into a prayer of pleas as he dangles you over the edge for just a little bit longer, the litany of praise and degradation sparking such headiness in your eyes he’s half-afraid he won’t be able to stop. 

“Keep your eyes on us. There’s my girl.” He ruts his dick against your ass, groaning into your neck. “Can’t wait to sink inside you, honey. Gonna remold this fucking pussy to the shape of me.”

He doesn’t even know what he’s saying at this point. He needs to see you cum, needs to feel your arousal drip all over his hands.

“Let me see it, baby, let me see how much you like being my good little whore.”

He slaps a hand over your mouth just as you shatter around him, swallowing the majority of your keening wail by pressing your face into the side of his neck.  

You go boneless and soft after you cum, limp in his arms and nuzzling into his chest like you belong there. 

“Gonna go clean us up,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. You hum in response, falling back on the mattress. 

He cleans you slowly, gently, and offers you one of his t-shirts to sleep in. You pat the space next to you, and he crawls in instantly, tucking you into his side. 

“I didn’t know it could feel like that.” You look up into his eyes, happiness radiating out of yours. “Thank you, Shouta.”

As your breathing slows and you fall asleep, Shouta realizes that, truthfully, he didn’t know it could feel like that, either. 

taglist: @phaticserpent, @magidzi, @hotlosergirl17, @luckybibucky, @heyithinkilike, @getoisinnocent, @personally4runa, @kennys-partner, @geektastic84, @bakery-angel, @constanttea, @aryuunachigiri, @sskorvid, @therefore-evermore, @one-scarred-mofo, @food4dead, @alphabetsoupyum, @cielito--lindo, @rentheannihilator, @juiceeypeach, @imastorytelleritsondvd, @ivydoesit23, @anotherfuckedupdayinthelifeofme, @deputy-azor, @ibby-miyoshi-nerd, @h3rmit-purrrrple420, @lousypotatoes, @hisbitch101, @greedygobbo, @ginevraxrogers, @alucardsdaddyissues, @minminroie, @honeyoru, @gothsquash, @aldebrana, @yansfanficwritings, @babypeapoddd, @fashionably-a-hippie, @junehasnotbeenfound, @citruki, @bitch-spaghetti-o

ONE LAST NOTE: If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know! I hope you enjoy this, I had a lot of fun writing it. Next chapter is the two of them being freaky and nasty and horny and fucking like bunnies

[adonisbeloveds]

The Main Twisteds being jealous that you're trying to farm for Bassie.

Based off my lovely lovely experience of trying to get Bassie only to get EVERY SINGLE MAIN TWISTED AT LEAST 3 TIMES IN 3 DAYS. Anyway, yes I am alive hello hello, and apologise if any of the twisteds personalitys are not like the canon ones because I suck at writing in character! Reader is GN and doesn't use any pronouns, and Vee, Shelly and pebble are all meant to be seen as platonic. Also you can view them as yanderes or just really possessive.

ASTRO

"Please be- .....you're not Bassie." "Starlight..."

.Stay's as close to you as he can, he already know's who you are looking for -- and so do the rest of the mains. It's not like they hold any personal problems with Bassie, it's merely because they knew you first is all. .Remeber his old blanket? He makes sure that it's always wrapped around you, so when you leave and possible see Bassie -- at least she will know who you are close with. .With the way his hat moves I like to think it's either because A) he can control it or B) it has a mind of it's own -- either way it always ends up wrapping around you when you do the machine's, not that he minds though. you do astro please remove it the Ichor is staining your clothes for the 40th time. "Cuddles? Like we use to?" "Astro you always stain my shirts black with the amount of Ichor-" "......" "Sigh, Fine..." .Four arms equal 4 times the comfort of cuddles, and wrapped in his old blanket? It could almost make you forget about your whole Bassie situation. sadly it didn't but hopefully soon you will finally give up and sleep with him like you use to. .What happens when both him and Bassie are on the same floor? Well you barely see Bassie, it seems like he made it his life mission to keep you two apart whenever he could. .You also swear you hear him grumble everytime you pick up research labled as Bassie's, but at this point you can't distinguish between grumbles and weird purring noises he makes. "You are awfully clingly this time around" "mmm...." "That wasn't an invitation-" "......" "...You know I can't stay mad at you, you cuddlebug" "Mhm.."

VEE

"Vee...Vee this is the 7th time, the 7th time you have shown up." "We can make it 8th" .My darling Vee, the one who never frigging left me -- appeared so many times I got her to 100% in 2 days and she wasn't even on the board once. .She's already standing there when the elevator opens, already waiting for you -- and before you can even get a word in her tail is wrapping around you and she's walking off. "Come on Vee, put me down" "mmmm, nope" .She's talking your ear off about everything and anything, as long as your attention is on her she's over the moon -- though she rarely shows it. .She likes to tease you, with her being insanely taller than you, she uses it to her advantage -- but if she genuinely makes you upset about it she's quick to stop, even throughout all the fun she would never want you to be upset over something she did. .If you compliment her in any way her screen will bug out for a moment before she thanks you -- her voice a bit staticky. Of course you have complimented her before, and so have others, it's just she hasn't had much compliments in this form yet is all. .Somehow she always knows where you are -- what floor you're on, where you are in a blackout, even if she can't make it to the elevator before it arrives, she eventually finds you and picks you up. .You have a small suspicion it's because of her ability but at the same time she's been near you so much you've started to think she's just learn't your habbits. "Do you think I could play games on your screen" "I wouldn't let you test it" "You so would though" "....You might get a virus." "Aw man" .Unlike the others, Vee doesn't really care for Bassie -- in the sense that she won't try to take you to the other side of the map to be away from her. .What she will do though is stay very close to you -- sure you can go to Bassie for whatever reason but make sure to keep your main attention on her, she isn't as possessive as the others. .That's the biggest lie ever, you just don't need to know that or the fact she purposefully kept Bassie off the floors for so long. .If you do spend to much time focusing on Bassie you would hear a sound that's almost like a computer overheating, when you check on Vee she simply raises an eyebrow at your question before saying it's a silly idea, even though both of you can feel heat radiating off her. "Come on, she isn't that bad!" "I know my show star, but that doesn't matter"

SHELLY

"rrrrrr....." "No way, and what happened next?" .Unlike the others Shelly at least tries to help you with the machine, as she tells you -- or at least tries to tell you -- about everything and anything. .In blackouts she makes sure to stay close so you don't bump into anything -- even though she isn't as tall as the other main's, and is usually hunched over, she will try to stand as tall as she can while observing the area. .She love's it when you talk, whether you are talking about something, simply humming or just saying random words. Shelly love's the sound of your voice, and if you don't speak? She just love's being around you, it always makes her tail wag no matter what you do! "How does your tail wag if its just your spine?" "rrrrhhhh?" "Yeah I figured" .She really doesn't like sharing your attention, and it's only worse when you are actively looking for someone else. Don't get it wrong! Deep down she knows it isn't Bassie's fault, but her more protective mindset always seems to win her over. .She use to only growl or roar whenever someone went a little to close to you, but lately she's seem to pick up the habbit of biting people when she gets really mad, causing you to drop everything you are doing and running over to her. .You can't possible decide if she's doing it on purpose for your attention or doing it from protectiveness -- at this point you are more than convinced its at least a bit of both. "I- Shelly- Shelly no- no doN'T BITE HER SHELLY-" "Rrrrr."

SPROUT

"ahusfjhasfhassa" "Sprout I love you dearly but please put me down, the tendrils are cold and wet and-" "hasfsafhhas" "....that didn't mean hold me-" .You thought the others were clingy? Well get ready for mr overprotective here -- he doesn't want you leaving his line of sight, no matter what. .Hmm? You want to collect baskets for the...easter toons? Oh, well it's okay, he can...sort of help with that -- I mean you are only trying to make new friends is all. just don't talk about them to much, he's trying to hold back his possessiveness towards you but he doesn't know how much longer he can take .He can't necessarily voice his complaints but he can sure as hell try, from grumbles to simply picking you up and holding you as close as he could -- he could try to keep you away from the baskets and other twisteds but you seem so adamant about them. .No worries though, he can simply use his tendrils to carefully pick you up and hold you above -- making sure you can't get whatever it is you wanted. You don't like how they feel? No worry! He doesn't mind holding you the whole time. "Sprout, you're like...breathing down my neck right now-" "hsdfiajeidfng" "I just want the baskets..." "Hisdjmfkd!" "I thank you for wanting to bake for me, but I think the ichor would contaminate it-" .God forbid Bassie is on the same floor as you two, there's no way you are even touching the ground with how possessive he becomes -- scarf wrapped around and everything! .What do you mean you need to see Bassie? Don't you know how dangerous it is? and what if he loses sight of you? what if you get hurt, what if- no, the simple answer is no. .But please don't get mad at him! He can't help it! He just wants to protect you is all, it's simply out of his control what happens! "....." "....dfgrf?" "Hmph...." "iodkfjgddf?" "....ugh I can't do this silent treatment anymore, just behave okay?" "sjdngd!"

PEBBLE

"Pebble no- bad dog." "Don't whine at me that's called guilt tripping" .Have you ever wanted a guard dog before? Well now you have a very large and very vicious guard dog, yay! .He's such a happy boy, tail's wagging, he's almost trotting from happiness but that all goes down hill when he notices you paying more attention to the easter twisteds than him. .This causes very loud whining -- the only warning you get before you're jumped by him, causing the both of you to fall down and for him to stay on top of you. not to hard he would never want to hurt his favorite caretaker! .Now you have to play fetch with him! and give him treats galore! Just make sure there's no one around -- he WILL trample over them just to get to you even if you tell him to stop. "I'm such a good pet owner aren't I? Much better than Dandy who can't keep his DOG ON A LEASH" "Pebble with how fast you wag your tail you are going to knock someone out with it, or worse because it's a rock" .You already know Bassie's on the same floor, you can hear his growling and barking from a mile away -- be sure to get to him quickly or else he might just attack the poor basket. .When you get there it's almost like he was never angry -- kew word almost, if it wasn't for the fact he picked you up by the back of your shirt and bringing you somewhere far away from her. .When the two of you are far enough he puts you down before laying his head in your lap and very politely asking for pats for protecting you like a good boy! "Peb-Pebble do not growl and Bassie she didn't do anything wrong-" "PEBBLE PUT ME DOWN YOUR TEETH WILL RIP MY SHIRT"

DANDY

"....okay so I can explain-" "You purposefully wanted this, not that I'm complaining my flower!" .If you were anyone else you would of had a heart attack when you heard Dandy's music coming towards you at max speed -- but you aren't anyone else, and you already know how much favoritism leaks out of that flower. .Whenever you finish a machine -- you are always faced with a smiling rainbow face, his sharp teeth would probably scare others to death but you've seen it so many times it's become normal. .Such a patient gentleman he is, waiting for your signal before pouncing onto of you -- still being mindful of the tapes sticking out of him, making sure none of them accidentally scrape you. "You are such a cat" "Nope! I wouldn't say 'cat'..." "Dandy, you are literally kneading into me." .As long as you give him full permission he will knead on every spot on your body, of course he's careful of his claws -- he would never hurt you. .At most floors you wouldn't even know Bassie was there if it wasn't for her flowers on the ground. Instead of the others avoiding her it seems like she's avoiding you -- well, not YOU persay, rather the toon that follows you. .Say you finally get to see her, you immediately sense the tension in the air before watching Bassie run away as fast as she could on her four, yet small 'legs'. .Turning your attention to Dandy you witness the most deadliest side eye you have ever seen. If this is how he acts when she's not even close to you guys, you think it's best off that you don't get close to her. .You would want the Ichor to be the only physical bad thing that's happened in her life. "omg stop giving the poor girl the side eye" "Hmm? I'm not." "'I'm not a cat' my ass, your eyes literally just dilated when you looked at me."

[no1blacksapphirefan]

For the self aware au- Have you ever written something about the sort of 'discovery' stage of the cookies being self aware? Like, if the cookies did accidentally 'break character' but instead of reader freaking out and deleting the game they become fascinated by it and start trying to get them to do it again? Curious and trying to figure out if it was a bug or glitch or some hacker, but not really bothered by it?

If you haven't written something like this and chose to use this as a prompt I'd love if you'd involve Capsaicin or Burning Spice if you feel like it! love the spicey boys,,,

I like your words weather boy. I hope I understood your request

Capsaicin (May be OOC) Oopsie!! He didn't mean too, he just got really excited seeing you. Perhaps you were wearing a new outfit, how could he not compliment you about the colour? Prune Juice had quickly jabbed him in the chest because of his slip up. And seeing you take notice...oh no, this isn't good right?...

But you didn't seem to be scared, your eyes sparkle with curiosity, he couldn't tell what you were doing at first, but when he realised you wanted to see him talk to you directly again? Oh he's more than happy too, he's quick to compliment you again, perhaps it's your eyes this time, your smile. He gets so giddy when he sees you not mind at all. And cookies said you'd be freaked out.

Burning Spice The words just left him, he didn't think about when he said it. He just didn't expect you to cry out in joy when he did the finishing blow on the other team in Arena...I mean, sure he was the only one with a bit of HP left, but god did that praise boost his ego, he couldn't help but thank you directly...with your name.

Look, look. He can't always just sit around and listen to you speak without talking to you, especially when you seem to talk to him casually as if you already knew...you won't delete the game right? Witches is he happy to see you become a giggling mess as you try and get him to speak again...hey stop poking him, he'll talk to you but-- you're still poking him??

Black Sapphire Like Shadow Milk, he doesn't think too much about his words and if they break the "4th wall" because to you, it was probably just in character, besides. One of his lines already did that anyways. What he didn't expect was, for you to actually believe it...like it wasn't just some code.

Is this a bad thing? He feels like this is a bad thing, maybe he shouldn't have talked his mind as often as he did in the kingdom and-- OH! You like it?? Heh, well if you enjoy it so much, he'll continue as he has done before. He'll just...ignore the stares Pure Vanilla is giving him. Hey! You like it, even if you seem to think it's real...he'll just argue that you found out through one of his already made voicelines.

Shadow Milk He's so happy when you notice, he always wanted you too y'know. He hated not being able to talk to you and besides, once he comes out of your device, he doesn't want to freak you out!! It's better if you knew, that's what he told other cookies but he always got shunned as the others worried it would freak you out too much.

He can't wait to rub it into other cookies faces. See!! You didn't care, you love it! Now he can talk your ear off, c'mon. Join him for dinner. Bring your food and he'll bring his. You might not be able to share a table but hey, you're eating together. He's quick to "confirm" your suspicion.

Pure Vanilla He didn't mean to let it slip! You were coming back with food to continue playing, and he couldn't help but call out in alarm to you, wanting to see if you were okay. Your pain (if you had any) disappeared and you just looked in amazement at him. Uh oh...

Unlike the others who were quick to just accept the fact you knew. Didn't even try to hide it or cover it up with a lie like, it was merely a bug. He's quick to try and continue the charade. It's not that he doesn't want to speak with you more personally, but he wonders if you'll still play when you do find out they all know. Even if it seems like you love it so. He might give in to speak again to you if he sees you desperately wanting to hear him again, he wants to see you happy