#i think this is why i have been a bit slow on my latest cover projects

[mayordeas-clone]

i think i’ve mourned before about how i can’t have any audio distractions when im writing or ill never be productive, but at least there i can pop on like. my video game osts and chill beats. whenever im trying to adapt a little tune and do music i absolutely cannot have other music playing because the activity in question requires me to listen to it 😭😭😭😭😭

[nats--sw]

Gold chain (pt2) | Leah Williamson

Leah, among other things, can be a bit of a distraction for your game… but just a bit. warnings: none, just fluff and slow burn note: a short one for today,, thanks for all the love in the pt1 :( pt1 - pt3 my masterlist

It had been three days since Leah had received the Instagram notification. Every morning, she took a moment to think about whether it was a good idea to text you or not. So far, you had liked her latest post, and Leah was hoping to return the gesture, but unfortunately for her you hadn't posted anything new since your picture holding the Roland Garros trophy. Not even a story she could react to. Nothing. 

“So... how's it going?” her mother asked that afternoon. Leah had gone to visit her, finding herself with more free time now that the season had ended, not much to do aside from the occasional interview and events, nothing too physically demanding for her.

“Well, I have an interview with the BBC in a couple of days, so that's keeping me busy” Leah said, pacing around the dining room, her eyes wandering over the photographs on one of her mother’s many shelves.

“I'm not talking about work. I'm talking about your girl!” Amanda shouted from the kitchen.

"Stop calling her that. I still can't believe you embarrassed me in front of her” Leah retorted. Just then, something over the fireplace caught her attention. 

Right in the center, where her picture holding up the Euro usually was, now stood a small transparent box. Inside was your autographed tennis ball. Leah picked up the box and couldn't help but smile at the sight of your signature, along with a smiley face.

“Hey, leave that there” her mother scolded as she entered the dining room with the two plates of food for dinner. 

“This should be mine, I'm her fan,” Leah said, fiddling with the box in her hand.

“Did you help Y/N win her trophy?” her mother retorted.

“Well, I got you there in the first place” Leah defended herself, placing the box back in its spot.

"Too bad that gift was given to me. If you want a ball, ask her for it." Amanda teased.

“You're my mother. You should be nicer to me.” Leah countered, taking a seat. 

"Yes, I am your mother, but I didn't raise a coward," Amanda said with a teasing smile. “Now eat”

Leah bit her lip nervously as she stared at her phone screen. The chat with you was open, and a picture of the autographed ball at her mother’s house was ready to be sent.

God, why was she so nervous? She had captained the England women's team to their first major title in history, yet now she was afraid to send a simple message.

“Screw it,” she muttered, hitting send.

“My mom won't let me touch the ball you gave her.”

Leah panicked as soon as the text was sent and quickly locked her phone. She glanced at her watch, it was past eleven o’clock at night, and she didn’t even know where in the world you were right now. The best thing to do was to go to bed and try not to think about the message. Maybe, if she was lucky, you would read it and respond in the morning. 

Within half an hour Leah was in bed, with her ipad in her lap, checking emails. Suddenly, her phone vibrated.

She had tossed it onto the bed ten minutes ago, and now it was lost somewhere among the sheets and the pile of pillows she had. She rummaged around looking for the phone, but couldn't find it, that was until her foot got tangled in the sheets, causing her to tumble to the floor. That's when she saw her phone, on the edge of the bed, covered by a pillow.

Without bothering to get up from the floor, she grabbed the phone and smiled when she saw the notification: a message from you.

“Aww, I seriously thought she would give it to you.”

Would it be too intense if she responded immediately? 

Leah decided to go for it. “My mother is not that kind of mother,” she typed and sent the message, then relaxed as she saw you had immediately read it. The bubble with three dots appeared instantly, confirming you wanted to keep the conversation going.

"Ah, my mother is similar. I understand," you replied.

Leah was taken by surprise when the next message popped up.

“What are you doing at this hour?”

She realized she was still sprawled on the floor of her room. She got up, climbed back into bed, and opened the first streaming app she saw on her ipad, choosing an old movie she had been trying to watch for days. She took a picture, making sure to show only the ipad and part of the bed, then sent it to you.

“Watching something.”

Leah shook her head,feeling like a teenager sending things like that. It reminded her of what she used to do years ago. But she wanted to sound interesting to you. What would you think of her if you knew she was actually just checking emails and watching old football matches, trying to figure out if she could play like she used to?

"What about you? I don't even know what time zone you're in."

“I’m in Italy, just an hour difference :)”

“Italy?”

"Resting. Back to my workouts tomorrow."

"Oh, right. What’s next for you now? Berlin?"

This time Leah was surprised to see that your response was not a text, but a voice message. She hesitated before playing it, then hit the button and heard your voice.

“Wow look at you, you really are a fan,” you said in a teasing tone. Leah blushed immediately. She couldn't send you a voice message because she was sure she would get too nervous. Leah Williamson, the same woman who had spoken at the UN months ago, now felt like a schoolgirl with a crush.

She took a deep breath and replied:

“Of course I am. I’ve watched almost all your matches since Wimbledon last year. I told you I was your fan when I met you. My mother made sure to emphasize that too.”

“I just thought it was to flatter me if I'm being honest... Not that I'm that self-centered, but it wouldn't be the first time it's happened.”

Leah could tell you were walking during the last voice message; there was background noise. You obviously weren't in a room.

“Where are you at this hour?”

The next thing Leah received was a photo of a couple of tennis courts. From the angle and the small table with a glass of water, she deduced that you were sitting a few feet away from the courts.

“I thought you were training from tomorrow?”

"On grass. The grass court season starts soon. Now I was just playing with my racket.” You explained in the message. Leah didn't have a chance to respond before receiving another voice message from you. "But it's getting late now, and I need to rest up for tomorrow's training session. Say hi to your mom for me please." 

"Of course, have a good rest," Leah replied, understanding the importance of proper rest for training sessions, especially during the season.

Days had flown by since that chat, and Leah was getting antsy. She was really hoping you'd reach out first this time, just to ease her mind that she wasn't bothering you. But as she sat at Alex's place,  enjoying a glass of wine over dinner before going out, she couldn't help but feel a bit silly constantly checking her phone for a message that never came.

As far as Leah knew you had already arrived in Berlin for the upcoming Open, not because you told her, but because she'd seen some snapshots of you during training sessions thanks to some tennis websites she followed.

Leah didn't know it, but your mind was fully consumed by the upcoming tournament with Wimbledon just around the corner. It was the topic of discussion throughout your entire day: grass, Berlin, Wimbledon, Leah no, wait, focus on that WTA ranking.

"Ready?" Lucas, your coach, asked, checking his watch. It was the last day before the tournament started.

"Huh?" You looked up, putting your phone down.

Lucas gave you a concerned look. "You okay? You've seemed kinda spaced out for a few days now."

You shook your head, trying to brush it off. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good."

"Is something up? You look kinda off," Lucas took a seat next to you, his concern evident in his expression. “You're not hiding some injury from me?"

"It's nothing. I'm fine, just tired” you lied, standing up and glancing at your phone once more. Lucas caught your glance.

"Don't tell me there's a girl," he said, rubbing his temples.

"What?! No! Of course not!"

"God, I knew it. It's that Italian girl, isn't it? I saw you chatting with her at the hotel."

"That was a waitress, Lucas. I'm serious, there's no one," you said, grabbing your bag from the floor. "I've got my priorities straight."

"Good. What you have to worry about now is Berlin. Remember, Wimbledon's around the corner" said Lucas, standing up and grabbing his bag. "If you want, after that tournament, you can sleep with whoever you want, Italian or not. But for now, you must keep your eyes on the grass. Okay?"

"Okay"

The next morning, as you sat down for breakfast, Leah's face caught your eye while scrolling through your Instagram feed. She had posted some photos, seemingly from a night out. 

It struck you how you hadn't come across Leah until the Roland Garros final; she seemed like an incredible person. You had even done a quick Google search when you first started following her on Instagram, impressed by her contributions to her sport back home.

It wasn't your fault that your family never showed much interest in football, so it wasn't surprising that you couldn't recognize any of the people beside Leah in those pictures. In the final photo, Leah was wearing a top that exposed her abdomen, wow, with a hand from someone you didn't recognize resting on her waist.

“Hmm?” You quickly tapped on the tag on the other woman's body. Her Instagram profile revealed that she was a football player too. Leah was in many of her photos, often seen next to her or hugging her. 

“Hey, Y/N” Lucas intervened, taking the phone from your hand and turning off the screen. “I've been trying to get your attention for minutes, your match starts in an hour.”

You nodded your head. Lucas didn't seem to notice the tension in your jaw, you tended to be serious before matches, so it wasn't unusual.

As you warmed up on the court, your mind couldn't shake the thoughts about Leah.

"Who was that other woman?"

"It doesn't matter. Leah is just a fan, maybe a friend, not someone you're going to marry."

"Exactly. Whether she has a partner or not shouldn't affect anything."

"But I couldn't help but find her cute."

"She's undeniably beautiful."

"Focus on Wimbledon."

Despite the game starting, your mind continued its internal debate.

Your opponent secured the first game at 40-0. Now it was your turn to serve. Just as you tossed the ball into the air, a nagging thought intruded again.

“Does she have a girlfriend?”

The ball hit the net. An irritated sigh escaped your mouth, knowing you had to make this serve count, aiming to avoid a double fault.

Shaking off the distracting thought, you prepared for another attempt. Gazing ahead, you focused on your opponent's movements, determined to regain control of the match.

"Her mother played matchmaker when we met," you mumbled to yourself, the distraction causing you to miss the hit once more. This time, it sailed over the net but landed wide, giving your opponent an unexpected point.

Even your opponent seemed surprised by the unforced error you just made, giving her a point without any effort on her part.

"I need to find out who she is," you muttered under your breath, feeling the pressure with each lost point.

Your serve had enough power behind it this time, but your return lacked precision, sending the ball flying into the stands. As the ball sailed out, your opponent glanced at you in disbelief, clearly surprised by the unforced error you had just made.

"Wälti, that was her name," you murmured to yourself, the name lingering in your mind like a persistent echo. 

With the score now at 40-15, your opponent was on the verge of breaking your serve.

You needed to get rid of the doubt, but you couldn't leave the game, you weren't that crazy. But you could do something else, win the game in record time. Focus on winning to satisfy your curiosity and anxiety. You adjusted the gold chain that hung around your neck and took a deep breath. You had to hurry.

The match ended 0-2, with you taking the sets at 2-6 and 1-6. Your best result on grass.

"Where'd that come from?" Lucas asked once you were alone. "Since when is your backhand so killer on grass?" he wondered. "I've never seen you pull off moves like that on grass."

"Just got inspired," you said, tossing your visor aside and slumping into the chair. "Can I have my phone now?" Lucas hadn't given it back to you yet, not as a punishment, but because you'd asked him to keep it. 

Lucas handed it over, eyeing you. "You're keeping something from me," he noted, scratching his beard. "But if it's what's making you play like a champ, I'm all for it," he said, grinning.

You brushed off your coach's voice, fingers darting to your Instagram. With a few taps, you found Leah's chat, eager to shoot her a message.

"Heyyy! How was your night?" you typed, your leg bouncing with impatience. Though you needed to hit the shower, the excitement of hearing from Leah consumed you.

"Hope you're not feeling too rough today; starting the week hungover would be nasty," you added, fingers hovering over the screen in anticipation. But as the moments passed, there was still no response from Leah, leaving you hanging in suspense.

A cold shower seemed like the perfect remedy to clear your mind, and thankfully, it did the trick. Lucas egging you on for extra drills, especially to fine-tune your backhand, also helped to distract you.

By dinner, any hope of hearing back from Leah had evaporated. You were so disinterested that you didn't even bother bringing your phone along. It wasn't until nearly ten, when you reached for your phone to set the alarm, that you noticed Leah's message—a voice message.

"Hey, fancy hearing from you!" Leah's voice chimed in, carrying that distinctive lilt that hinted at a potential afternoon spent dozing off. You could practically imagine her, wrapped up in blankets, nursing a post-party hangover. "Yeah, went out with some friends. We were celebrating the end of my mate's long-distance thing. Was fun, until they started getting all soppy, reminding me I'm the last single one in the group."

A groan slipped out before she continued, "I may have had a bit too much to drink," she confessed with a sheepish chuckle.

Those messages had been sent around 4 pm, while you were deep into your training session.

The rest of the voice messages were sent after 7 pm.

"What the heck was up with your game today?!" came the first, followed by a chuckle "Just watched the highlights of your match. Seriously, what did that poor player do to deserve such a thrashing from you? She ain't an ex, is she?"

Then, a last voice message added, "Sorry if that sounded a bit too nosy. Just curious, you know?"

You chuckled, enjoying the sound of Leah's accent. It had this magical way of making you grin like an idiot, even when you were just staring at your phone screen.

But now, what really mattered was Leah's relationship status, she was single, confirmed without even having to pry. Knowing she was single now seemed like a game-changer. Suddenly, that whole thing with Wälti didn't matter anymore, Leah's path was crystal clear. Not that you were planning to make any moves to win her over; that was definitely not on your agenda, at least not for now.

“Remember, Wimbledon”

Oh… the other thing that hit you: Leah truly proved herself to be your fan. It blew your mind that someone recovering from a hangover would bother to watch highlights of your match just to chat about it later. She was the first person to do that, apart from your coach or family.

"Hey, I'm free tomorrow, at least from the matches. What do you think if I call you tomorrow?" you typed, feeling a rush of anticipation mingled with nerves as you crawled into bed.

Before closing your eyes, you couldn't resist checking your phone one last time. And there it was, Leah's response: "Sure, call me anytime tomorrow. I'll be waiting for you."

With a grin stretching across your face, you drifted into the most peaceful sleep you've had in ages, feeling a sense of warmth and excitement settling deep within you.

[cassiefromhell]

The Game

Nanami x Wife!Reader

wc: 2.7k

warnings: f!reader, mdni/18+, smut, teasing, ROUGH, manhandling, gentle choking, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering a/n: this is a combination of my reaction to the latest jjk ep and a general need for manhandling nanami.

You know exactly what is coming for you.

You can feel his eyes on you from across the room. Watching you. 

Watching his pretty little wife play games that she’d lose. 

Because you have one goal in mind: piss off your husband, Nanami Kento.

Which is not an easy task. But you had pissed him off once before, a few weeks ago, and had been insatiably craving more. His reaction that night was… his hands in your hair, throwing you back against the bed, the words out of his mouth—

You can’t help but blush a little at the memories that flood your head now, as you speak to a man twice your age at this party. You know this man thinks he has a chance with you. He came up to you earlier, and is now flirting with you relentlessly, seeming blind to the ring on your marriage finger which marks you as claimed. 

You giggle a little at something he says, taking your poker and stabbing at the fire. You sip the glass of wine in your hands. There’s no need to look over your shoulder to confirm; Kento is most decidedly watching you.

And that fire? It’s growing.

You can feel the way your white silk mini dress has ridden up your thighs a little, but you don’t do anything to fix it, no matter how much the skin on the back of your thighs sizzles and sears under his scorched gaze.

All it takes is for the man to reach out, try to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, and the flame explodes.

Hands are on your waist in an instant, a cotton-covered, firm chest pressed against your back. You know that chest. Those hands.

“I think it’s time for us to get going, don’t you think, dear?” Kento grits out, his thumbs digging into your skin. A warning.

“Oh,” you pout, turning your head to look up at him. You’re met with a hard-set jaw and cold eyes, as your husband stares down the inferior man who got a centimeter too close. “But it’s raining. We’ll have to wait for it to slow down a bit, or have a valet bring the car around, we’re parked a block away—”

“We’ll walk. Goodbye,” he flashes the tightest, fakest smile you’ve ever seen, and then turns you towards the elevator, pushing you in that direction.

And what choice do you have? You half walk, half stumble forward, his hands never faltering in their iron grip the whole walk over. He stops you in front of the elevator.

“Button,” he commands, jerking his chin towards the panel with two buttons, one an up arrow and the other down.

“Why do I have to do it?”

“It seems that if I let you go for half a second, you’ll run off and let yourself get eye-fucked by a nobody in a cheap suit. Button,” he growls, his hands tightening their grip, causing your sides to protest.

You whimper softly, reaching out and pressing the down button. It glows a soft blue, and you tilt your head to the side, gazing up at your angry, blond man. “What’s got you in such a frenzy? I was socializing—”

He scoffs. “Socializing. Sure. I know the game you’re playing, and might I remind you that it’s a game you can’t win, darling.”

You swallow hard, fighting back a flinch as the elevator dings, and the doors slide open. 

Empty.

Kento shuffles you both inside, and holds the ‘close doors’ button so hard that you’re afraid it might actually crack.

The elevator doors slide closed, and he releases you, taking two steps back.

Suddenly, the air is so thick that you can hardly breathe, and the thought of the fingerprint bruises he’s likely left on you fills your head.

“Ke—”

“No. No more words from you,” he spits out, practically punching the ground floor button.

You pout, and take a step towards him. “‘Nam, c’mon,” you poke that damned fire again, just waiting for it to burn you.

And it does.

His arm snaps out, his hand gripping your chin, tilting your head up. “I said, quiet.”

That sharp anger in his eyes makes your stomach flutter, abdomen tensing. You bite your bottom lip, and try your luck. “You’re a little angry, huh?”

Your back is against the wall before you can even process what’s happened, before you recognize that he’s shoved you into the corner of the elevator, one hand gripping your neck and the other pressed firmly against your hip, keeping you in place. His body is fully pressed to yours, and the straining bulge you feel is unmistakable.

“Angry? You have no idea,” he says, his voice having dropped to an eerily calm tone. “I want to throw you onto the ground of this damned elevator and make you suck me off right here, right now. I want to fuck your throat, and then that kinky little cunt of yours, until you are sobbing and begging me to stop.”

Your breath catches in your throat— no, it completely stops. You’re no longer breathing.

“Then do it.”

He gives a breathy chuckle, suddenly spinning you around, a hand knotting in your hair and shoving your cheek against the wall. And then he leans down, presses his lips against your ear, and…

“No. You’d like that too much.”

You whine, straining against his grip on you. Kento is usually ever the gentleman, the perfect white picket fence husband. He brings you roses each Friday and a piece of your favorite cake every Tuesday, and fucks the shit out of you each day when he returns from missions. But he’s so… polite, all the time, his touch gentle and his voice soft. He’s the type to rest his hand on your thigh while he drives, and carry you bridal style into the house.

But this Kento… This Kento is the reason you’re trying to piss him off. Because you unlocked the manhandling, relentless Kento once, and now can’t get enough of it.

Suddenly, the hand on your neck drops down, down, down to your thighs, and then up under your skirt. Kento’s fingers ghost over your bare pussy, straight up laughing when he realizes you’re wearing no underwear. But the laughter is harsh, and sends shivers down your spine.

“You really planned this, didn’t you dear.” It’s more of a statement than a question.

“Can you blame me?” You murmur, trying to grind down on his hand, the hand which is now cupping your dripping cunt, the heel of his hand juuuust below your clit. “Please.”

“We’re almost on our floor,” Kento suddenly releases you, fixing your dress with a soft touch and taking two steps back. 

You open your mouth to complain, but right on cue, the elevator doors slide open. Kento presses a hand against the small of your back, forcibly guiding you out of the elevator, and across the plaza, out to the main doors.

Where it’s pouring.

You pause outside the glass doors, crossing your arms across your chest. “No. It’s pouring.”

Kento sighs, but looks you over, and realizes it at the same moment as you do; you’re wearing white.

And Kento is a gentleman.

“I’ll bring the car around. You stay right here, you understand me?”

You nod, and he’s out the doors in an instant.

You find yourself shifting on your feet as you wait, your heels really starting to do a number on you. You keep fixing your dress, trying to ignore how you’re wetter than the rain outside.

Your feet have not moved an inch when your familiar white BMW M8 pulls up to the doors, and your husband gets out of the driver's seat, umbrella in hand.

And he is soaking wet.

His blue shirt sticks to his chest, not hiding any of the rippling muscle along his entire torso. He’s discarded his gray suit jacket, but the pants have darkened a shade due to the rain. His hair sticks to his face, blond locks drenched.

You can’t help the blush that rises to your cheeks when you realize how close you are to being able to make out his dick print, and that only worsens when he walks through those doors, headed straight for you.

“I didn’t move,” you murmur as he takes your arm, gripping your bicep tightly and heading for the exit once more.

“That earns you no brownie points tonight.”

Kento opens the umbrella as he drags you outside, holding it over your head. Not a drop of water hits you as he escorts you to the car, and then opens the door to the back seat.

You raise a brow. “Backseat?”

“So you can’t touch me,” he replies, and then promptly sweeps your feet out from under you, catches you, and tosses you into the back seat.

You yelp as your back hits the leather, and the door is closed immediately. Kento is in the driver’s seat before you can blink, staring at you in the rear view mirror. 

You buckle yourself up, and he seems satisfied, putting the car into drive and pulling out of the parking lot at a speed that’s probably too fast.

You chew your bottom lip, watching his hair drip onto his face, watching his hands white-knuckle the steering wheel, watching his foot press the accelerator.

“You’ll catch a cold,” you murmur, leaning forward and running a hand over his hair, trying to squeeze some of the water out.

His hand wraps around your wrist, pulling your fingers away from his head. “No touching.”

You pout, unbuckling yourself and scooting forward, pressing your face against his neck. “Kentoooo…”

You feel the change in his demeanor immediately. He tenses, and reaches back to grip your hair, yanking your head away from him.

“That’s it,” he hisses, and pulls the car into an empty parking lot, putting it in park.

He’s out of the driver’s seat instantly, coming around to the back, and climbing into the back seat.

You have to fight back your victorious grin, but he doesn’t have the same plans as you do, because he grabs you, and pulls you out of the car and into the rain.

“Kento—”

His mouth crashes into yours, and he grabs your chin tightly, his other hand holding your waist to his. You whimper into his mouth, trying to ignore the cold rainwater that’s certainly making your white dress translucent.

He pulls away just when you begin to shiver, then drags you around the car, putting you into the passenger seat and slamming the door. He appears back in the driver’s seat in an instant, his jaw once again set and eyes cold as ice.

“What happened to the no touching rule?” You grin, kicking off your heels.

“Better idea.”

He pulls back onto the road, eyes staying on the path ahead, all while his hand starts to make its way under your skirt.

You realize what he’s doing just as a finger plunges into you, sliding easily with your wetness. You groan loudly, whimpering as his thumb grazes your clit.

He slides in a second finger, and starts pulling them out and pushing them back in, all while stimulating your clit.

It hardly takes any time at all for you to be whimpering and grinding against his hand, gripping the door for support and leverage.

With a few more strokes and swipes of his thumb, that coil in your abdomen begins to tighten, your cunt clenching around his fingers. “Ah— oh, shit…”

Kento withdraws his hand, and you open your mouth to protest, then realize he’s pulled the car into your garage, and is putting it in park.

And he presses the garage door closing button.

And then waits, both hands on the steering wheel, as the garage door closes.

The second that the concrete meets the door, Kento turns his head to look at you, all needy and desperate with pleas begging to escape your lips.

“You really want me to be rough with you?” he asks, his brows stitched together in concern.

“Wherever would you have gotten that impression?” you drone, raising a brow sarcastically. “I want to get the ever-loving shit fucked out of me.”

“You want to be hurt?”

“A little. I liked last time,” you murmur, allowing your mind to slip back a little bit, back to that night that had left you both bruised and begging for more.

“There are better ways to go about this than pissing me off,” your husband narrows his eyes, jaw clenching.

“This is the authentic way.”

“You’re spoiled, you know that?”

“You’re hard as fuck, you feel that?” your eyes flick to the bulge under his pants zipper.

That’s enough to send Kento flying out of the car, and before you know it, he’s opening your door, dragging you out by your bicep.

You yelp, stumbling forward as his grip on you — which is covered in your slick — remains firm. He pulls you into the house, and your back is pressed against a wall immediately, his mouth on yours, hand around your throat.

Kento pulls you up the wall, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your aching cunt against his shirt. He roots his fingers in your hair, tugging just enough to be a bit painful.

Clearly he’s done waiting, because his dick is out within seconds, and he’s pulling up your dress. You whimper once the fabric is bunched up around your waist, gripping his shoulders.

“Please…”

“You think that’s enough?” he scoffs, tugging your hair and tilting your head back. “You flirt with another man, nearly let him touch you, act like a brat, and you expect me to just give it to you?” Nevertheless, he presses the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with the slightest bit of pressure. 

“Fuck—” you whine, groaning softly. The hand holding you up digs into your skin. “I’ll be good— jesus, please. I need you.”

Kento slaps your ass, and then thrusts nearly his entire thick length in at once, causing you to cry out, tears coming to your eyes. He immediately starts a bruising pace, fucking you into the wall so god damn hard that a picture frame nearby rattles.

You whimper as his cock reaches that sweet spot once— and then again, and again, until you’re matching each thrust with a tilt of your hips and a moan.

“Fuck— there you go, baby,” he grits out, yanking on your hair. “Take it all.”

That familiar cool begins to tighten, your abdomen tensing as he picks up his pace even more, and you wonder how it’s possible — untll you look down and realize he’s using the tiniest bit of cursed energy to fuck the actual shit out of you.

“Cum for me, come on. You wanted this so bad, so cum on my dick.”

And that’s enough to send you tumbling over the edge, stars flooding your vision and a long string of curses leaving your lips like a prayer.

His thrusts grow a little sloppier, and he spills himself into you with a hiss, leaving little nips along your jawline. 

“I’m not close to being done with you, just as a fair warning,” he growls, and then tosses you over his shoulder.

At this point, you’re half dead.

But also half alive, kept awake by Kento’s hands rubbing circles along your skin, the bubbly bath water tickling your breasts. 

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to a bruise on your shoulder.

You give a half-babbled response, leaning into his warmth more.

“Full sentences, please.”

“Mm.. I love you,” you manage, turning to face him. You press your face into his neck and inhale his scent.

“I love you too.”

A long pause comes, with Kento just rubbing circles into your bruised sides. Then, he speaks.

“Now, what did we learn?”

“That pissing off the husband results in mind-blowing sex.”

He draws a sharp breath in, and smacks your shoulder gently. “No, no. We learned that we don’t have to piss the husband off, we just have to use our words and plan a date for these things.”

“That’s not very authentic.”

“Do I have a shot at winning this?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Alright.”

[purrassicjet]

@snakeoil2 thank you for endulging me <3 here's your reward, the first section of Jawbone/Oliver's perspective for Darkest Times, Brightest People:

Oliver O’Shaughnessy had never been one for the gossip magazines.

He usually walked right past, maybe skimming the titles if he was really bored.

But things change. People change.

Suddenly, the gossip magazines were the only entertainment he could afford.

The most recent scandal had caught his eye, though. He reached out for the latest issue of Hot Odyssey, who seemed to be covering the issue the most. Apparently they had managed to get an interview with the woman involved. She was on the cover. An elven woman with long brown hair who couldn’t have been older than him, younger even. She looked scared, but the magazine made it seem like she was some temptress. His brow furrowed. They had been at the throat of that woman for just over a month now, and she always looked… sad in the pictures they took of her. He flipped to the page with the interview, skimming the article and feeling a pit develop in his stomach.

Me: So, Sandra, what led you to try and break up the marriage of such a pillar of our community?

SS: I didn’t! I swear!

Me: Come on now, you can be honest with me.

SS: I am! Is this why you asked for an interview? Just to try and pin this on me?!

Sandra continued to become more enraged the more the interview went on, sadly, I cannot write down what she said, out of fear of risking my publisher dropping me.

He shut the magazine in frustration, an animalistic growl rumbling in the back of his throat. He hated how he didn’t sound human anymore.

He put the magazine back on the stand, stuffing his hands in his pockets. There was no way that woman was the temptress the magazines always said she was. She didn’t look like she would have done what she was accused of, especially with the way she talked in that interview. He regarded the woman for a few more moments, part of him waiting for her to spring to life with some sort of magic, but dropped his gaze. He turned it instead to the sky, watching it darken with sunset. A bit of anxiety hit him and he rifled through his pockets, pulling out a few silver pieces and a copper piece. He hoped it would be enough to get him a room.

Oliver walked a couple blocks before he found a motel with its sign flashing “vacant”. He slipped into the reception building, only to find a frantic half-elf searching below the desk. He leaned over, “You alright, kid?”

“Fuck.” Was all the kid said, popping up so that Oliver could read his nametag, Ian. “I left the vacancy sign on, didn't I? Oh… my boss is going to kill me.”

Oliver held up his hands, “Slow down. What are you looking for?”

“I lost the key to one of the rooms.” Ian muttered miserably, “I went to the bathroom for just a second and it was gone. I can’t go find it because I have to stay here.”

“What room?”

“103.”

Oliver paused, thinking it over, “What about I go investigate? I need a room, you need help, let’s help each other.”

Ian’s eyes lit up, “Really? You’d do that?”

A small smile spread over Oliver’s face, exposing his now overgrown canine teeth. He cringed when Ian flinched a little, “Yeah, of course.”

The boy popped back underneath the counter and returned with another key, “This is the master key. If the door’s locked, you can get in with this.”

Oliver took it. “I’ll be right back.” He promised and backed out of the building.

He repeated the room number under his breath as he made his way to the line of rooms, passing a couple before he reached the correct door. He picked up a faint shuffling coming from behind the door and leaned into the peephole, seemingly causing more shuffling.

A woman’s voice said something he didn’t quite understand, but it reminded him of someone shushing an animal. 

“Is anybody in there? I’m coming in.” There was a string of swear words as Oliver put the master key in the lock and turned it.

The door swung open to reveal an elven woman trying to fit a full grown griffin into the small room. Her brown hair was cropped even shorter than a pixie cut, but longer in other places. It wasn’t a professional job, that was for sure. The haircut was the reason it took Oliver a few moments to recognise her.

It was the woman from the article.

“Sandra Sparkquiver?” There was nothing but confusion in his voice.

“Fuck!” The woman swore again, dropping her arms away from the griffin, who looked to be trying his best to fit into the small room, “How did you know? Are you press?”

He held his hands up in a surrender gesture, “Just looking for a room. The kid at the desk said if I got the key back, I could have it.”

Guilt washed over Sandra's face. “Yeah. That doesn't feel great.” But her face quickly shifted to a hardened expression again. “I need it.”

Despite the direction the conversation seemed to be going, Oliver couldn't help but feel calm. She was just… scared. 

“We could share.” He tried to suggest, but that only made her recoil further.

“Woah, okay.” He held up his hands, “Bad idea. I get it.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and raised her hands again, blocking him from the griffin behind her. 

“Should I just tell him I couldn't find it?” 

She looked like she was about to respond, but closed her mouth. Her eyes flickered to the bandage on his arm and her eyes widened. He could almost see the math in her eyes. After a few moments of silence, she dropped her arms. 

“No.” She grabbed a bag from where Oliver couldn't see, hauling it over her back and slipping past him. “Bye.”

He didn't feel her pass by, but when the griffin basically shoved him out of the way he stumbled. 

“Hey! I need the- key…” He raised his hand as she left, but quickly felt just what he was looking for. She must have slipped it into his hand as she passed. His gaze lingered on the key for a moment.

The back of his neck pricked and he turned quickly to reception. He was running out of time. He jogged back to pay.

[generic-sonic-fan]

Team Dark Week: Together/Journey

Summary: Rouge recalls some memories of her unlikely journey to becoming the leader of Team Dark. For @teamdarkweek.

2125 words, no content warnings

---

“Hey, Rouge!” Amy waved from the sidewalk.

Rouge landed next to her. “Hey, hun. Sorry not sorry for being late.”

“I figured you would be, so I didn’t worry.” Amy smiled. “How’ve you been?”

“Busy. Now come on, let’s get our pampering on.” She gestured to the nail salon.

“Straight to the point! You’re a girl on a mission as always.”

They entered the salon and were brought over to the pedicure chairs. After removing her shoes, Amy jumped into the cushioned chair and stuck her feet into the pool of hot water below. Rouge followed suite. She activated the massage function and slumped back into her chair. The last mission had been particularly. . . eventful. The massage was doing wonders for her aching wings. 

Amy spared no time describing her latest conquest- a massive haul from her favorite consignment store. Rouge was content to sit back and soak it in, occasionally opening her eyes and glancing whenever Amy had a picture to show of the outfits she’d put together already.

“What about you, huh?” Amy asked. Before Rouge could reply, though, she continued. “How are Shadow and Omega doing?”

Rouge pouted. “How am I supposed to know?”

“Uh, I don’t know, they’re your friends?” Amy shrugged.

Fair point. “They’re off doing their own things.”

Amy twiddled her thumbs.

“You really associate them with me that much?” Rouge asked.

“Well gee, I didn’t think it was that bad of an insult!” Amy replied.

“That’s not what I meant.” She took a breath. “Just that, it only felt like yesterday. . .”

—

“I’m an independent contractor. IN-DE-PEND-ENT!”

“If you’re going to accept my offer, that is going to change.”

Rouge bared her fangs, then turned herself away from the bars of her cell, giving a “hmph!” for good measure.

“GUN agents do not work alone. We can’t risk losing communication with an agent on a vital mission.”

“Vital mission? What ‘vital mission’ are you going to send a jewel thief on, hmm?”

“Might I remind you where you are right now?” The officer paused, presumably making some grandiose gesture at the cell around her. “If you don’t accept our offer, you’re going to be serving jail time.”

“Not for long.” Rouge mumbled. 

“In maximum security, if you keep that up.”

Rouge covered her mouth. “Oops. Silly me.”

“So make your choice. You can stay in here. . . or you can work with us.”

“Alone.”

“You will be assigned a team.”

“No, I won’t. Not if you want my expertise. You sound very desperate if you’re begging for a known thief to join your cause.”

“Indeed, command is desperate, to consider a thief who’s actually been caught.”

Rouge hissed. “Then why don’t you go find a better one?”

The officer paused. “I-”

“Because there is no better one. Do you know why? Because I work alone. I don’t let anybody slow me down. So go ahead and let me rot in jail, if you’d like, but if you want me on your side you’re going to give me what I’m asking for.”

She looked over her shoulder to see the officer looking down. Her grin faded, however, when he tapped a button hidden under his shirt. It was then that she noticed the tiny wire sneaking up to his ear. A voice spoke from his earpiece, but even with her ears swiveled towards it she couldn’t make much out of it.

The officer looked up again. “Fine. We won’t pair you up with anyone, if you agree to be implanted with a chip that will track your location.”

“An implant seems like a lot of work. Why don’t I just have it, I don’t know, sewn into my clothes right here?” Rouge turned around and tapped her chestplate. 

“That isn’t secure-”

“Do you think I’m going to strip on the job?”

The officer stammered a bit, before shaking his head. 

“That would be very unprofessional. Now come on, get me out of here. And get me talking to who’s really going to be in charge of this mission.”

The officer grabbed the keys from his belt and unlocked the door. 

—

For calling himself a genius, Rouge had easily talked her way into becoming essential for Dr. Robotnik's little mission. The “Eggman” wasn’t all he was cracked up to be, pun intended.

But the small black-and-red hedgehog that followed him, Project SHADOW. . . now that was much more of a challenge. It was the sort of challenge that sucked her in, like trying to crack a bank vault or figuring out how to bypass GUN security systems. No person had ever caught her attention like this before. 

She needed to know more. She wanted to pick his brain about all the things she was seeing in his files. That was a stupid idea, of course. She couldn’t afford to get chummy, not when he was her mission. 

—

“Where is Shadow?” Rouge asked as Sonic stepped into the observation room of the ARK.

Instead of a quip, she saw Sonic stiffen. He shook his head. 

A sort of breathless gasp passed over not just her, but the entire room. Tails, Amy, Knuckles, even Eggman, to some extent. They wandered over to different windows of the observatory. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a star shooting down towards the surface of the planet. She froze. 

(If she didn’t look, it wasn’t real.)

Sonic tapped her on the shoulder. She exhaled, tried to paint a normal expression on her face, and turned to him. 

In his hand was one of those golden rings Shadow wore around his wrists and ankles. 

—

The golden band, an inhibitor ring, as she knew it to be now, sat on a shelf amongst her most prized jewels. 

—

Her heart stopped when she saw Shadow in that pod. Even when bullets started flying, she couldn’t get her limbs to work. 

“Shadow!” She cried as he tackled her out of the way. 

“Stay here.” He replied.

She looked over to see the source of the gunfire- some sort of fancy new Badnik model. Shadow lept around the room to avoid its fire. 

“MUST ERADICATE ALL EGGMAN ROBOTS!”

Now that didn’t make any sense. Eggman’s newest and best robot wouldn’t have a destructive streak like this. And the fact that it was currently attacking Shadow, the person that was in the pod, and not her, the intruder trying to steal that person in the pod, meant that-

Shadow charged. The robot put away its miniguns and pulled out a wicked pair of claws. Rouge jumped and flew between them. 

“Hey, hold up!” She screamed as she put a palm on each of their chests.

To her surprise, both parties actually listened.

—

They exited the basement of Eggman’s base. Shadow, now amnesiac. And E-123 Omega, a robot now out for revenge. 

As they exited out into the blue skies and palm trees, both stayed in the doorway. 

Rouge turned back, but any demand for them to hurry up dried on her lips when she saw Shadow’s face.

He blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Blinked again. Stared up into the great big sky above them, as if it might swallow him whole. His quills shivered as the warm breeze blew past him. 

The robot shook too, the metal plating clanging against itself drawing her attention away from Shadow. Behind the glass of his optics, his apertures expanded and shrunk three or four times before settling on a size. There was another noise, besides the wind, something whirring within him. Some sort of cooling fan, maybe.

Rouge was sure that Shadow’s metaphorical cooling fans were going off as well. 

An Ultimate Lifeform and an Ultimate Robot. Both looking like they were about to short-circuit after a ray of sunshine hit them. 

Something in Rouge’s chest clenched, making it difficult to breathe. She pushed it down. “You two ready?”

—

“Thank you for retrieving the Ultimate Lifeform.” The commander said to her. 

Rouge wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at Shadow, who was bristling under the attention of four technicians that were poking and prodding at him.

“All in a day’s work.” She replied. 

“And the capture of Robotnik tech is very impressive. Now that you’ve got it following your orders, order it to accompany the technicians back to the clean room so that it can undergo-”

“I DO NOT FOLLOW HER ORDERS!” Omega snapped. “I FOLLOW NO ONE’S ORDERS!”

“We know, we know,” she made a calming gesture to Omega, not that it’d do much, as she’d learned recently. “He doesn’t work that way. I’d suggest-”

Three GUN soldiers brought their rifles to their shoulders and pointed them at Omega. 

“You didn’t inform us that this one retained its autonomy!” The commander said pointedly. 

“Hey, HEY! Put those down!” Rouge ran in front of Omega. “He’s not gonna hurt you as long as you’re not an Eggman robot! Right?”

“IF THEY WISH TO APPREHEND ME TO OBSTRUCT MY MISSION, I INVITE THEM TO TRY.”

“You heard the robot! Put down your weapons.”

“Agent Rouge, we cannot allow it to simply roam free with its programming still intact.”

“Then I’ll get Sonic’s little squirt to evaluate him! Now put those away before he takes it as a challenge.”

The commander gave a gesture to the soldiers, and they lowered the rifles from their shoulders, only barely.

“Okay, good. Now let’s sort this out-” Rouge said.

“Rouge.”

Rouge whipped around to see Shadow being dragged led off by figures in white.

“Let him go!” she flew after him.

She grabbed his wrist and stopped the senior technician from going any further. 

“Agent Rouge! Explain your behavior at once.” The commander shouted.

“I won’t let you take him away!” She shouted back. “I won’t let you take either of them. They saved my life. They saved everyone from Metal Overlord! I’m not gonna let you dissect either of them- you owe them that much!”

“Both present a danger to everyone in this room if not evaluated.” The commander hissed. “Are you willing to put your reputation on the line for them?”

“Yes!”

The answer shocked her even coming out of her own mouth. She let go of Shadow’s arm and turned to find the commander with his hand on his chin. 

There was nothing left to do but double down. “We’re a team. Team. . .”

All GUN units needed a unit name. ‘Team Rouge’ would probably get an objection from the other two. ‘Team Jewel’ was too cliche. She looked between the two, then down to herself.

“Team Dark.” She said. “We’re Team Dark. We’ll get evaluated together, thank you very much. You’re welcome for our help in saving the world.”

The commander lowered his hand. “Very well. I’ll consider it. Guards.”

As the soldiers swept around them, she now found herself shoulder to shoulder with the hedgehog and the robot. 

She was never doing this again. She wasn’t liking being on this end of the equation, the one with no negotiating power, especially not on the behalf of two unstable superweapons who could decide at any point that she wasn’t worth their time. If she continued like this, she was going to end up dead or in someone’s prison cell or-

“Thank you,” Shadow whispered to her. 

She looked at him. He met her gaze. She glanced back to Omega. He met her gaze, too. 

Any regrets she had were gone as they were escorted down the hall. 

—

“Uhhh, Rouge? Rouge?” Amy waved her hand in front of Rouge’s eyes. 

“Hmm?”

“You, uh, kinda stopped talking.” Amy explained. “You were saying?”

Rouge took a moment to blink the rest of the memories away and remember where she’d left off. “Oh, nothing. Just how it only felt like yesterday since I stuck my neck out for those two idiots.”

“That’s a little mean of you to call them that.”

“And now we’re friends. So much so that it’s the first thing people like you think of when they see me, apparently.”

“Oh.” Amy relaxed.

“It means we’ve got work to do! We’ve got reputations to maintain, you know.”

“A reputation for what? Being broody loners?”

“That’s more Shadow’s speed. And besides, I doubt he has this problem.”

“Knuckles asked him how you were doing yesterday.”

“Well, Shadow’s always the more sentimental of the team. Omega certainly wouldn’t tolerate it.”

“. . . Tails didn’t even have to ask Omega about you guys before he started talking about what you were up to the last time you left him for repairs.”

“Really?”

Amy nodded. 

“Well,” Rouge looked down at her lap, “then I suppose everyone knows.”

“Knows what?”

“That we’re better off together.” 

Amy’s eyes lit up. “Awwwwww! See? Aren’t friends the best?”

Rouge rolled her eyes and whispered to herself, “despite everything.”

[rotnow]

✨ Articles of Phantom Theives : The mermaid and the ship of fakes! ✨

NOTE : watching the actual episode of the anime is highly recommended Hello everyone! Huhu here! It's been a while huh? Well as I promised I have finished the chapter for this story! You are in a treat this time my friend, I have decided to write an actually full fledged story this time instead of writing bullet points. I’m going to be honest..this wasn’t easy. I had to constantly keep motivating myself and the amount of times I have went back and forth to looking at the episode is insane 💀 That being said, THIS IS A WARNING‼️ the end of this story might be lacking and I apologize for that. I’ll try to be better in the future! Hm..what else? Oh yes, Emily's outfit! Yes yes she is dressed up in knight armor (will be explained in the story) here I even drew it!!

Now without further adieu.. Let the story begin! Thank you for reading!!

———————————————————

Don’t get me wrong, Emily Oak loves parties. She enjoys socializing with different people and most importantly the food.

So why is she wearing a fully covered knight costume in the middle of a party?

Well dear reader, let me explain. So it started when Emily and DJ peacock were discussing their latest report on Kaitou Joker when a little birdie told them that Joker has sent an advance notice to steal Mr Kaneri’s Mermaid Crystal during his luxury liner party! Obviously both of them were stoked about this news but before things can get even more better it was also hinted that the mysterious phantom thief Spade (who has yet to reveal his identity) was also going to be appearing!

DJ peacock was too busy jumping around in excitement already having ideas on covering the underground news and to notice Emily's shoulder’s slow slump when she realized who Joker and this spade is stealing from.

“Hm? Emily what’s wrong?” “Oh um.. well good news! I can go to the party without being accompanied by inspector oniyama and the others!” “That's wonderful! How did you manage to do that at a short notice?” “Ok so here's the surprising news..”

Emily had to shut her friend’s gaping mouth before any flies would fly into it when she revealed that Mr Kaneri is her uncle. In her defense, the rich man is her FAR FAR FARR UNCLE. She hardly sees him that much anyway but she has a great opportunity in her hands and she could get a peek of what kaitou spade looks like as well! All it took was one greeting (and a bit of persuasion) and Emily had the invitation in her hands, ready to go!

And that's how she got into this situation, a fully covered knight armor costume in her uncle’s cruise attending his costume party. It's not like she doesn’t want her uncle to find her (ok she does) but she only really came here to see what Joker has up his sleeve this time and see kaitou spade, not be forced to write an article about how wealthy her uncle is.

‘Now that I think about it..this armor is making me sweat..’ the brown hair girl thought to herself while looking at the multiple paintings of her uncle on the wall. It was amazing how Emily managed to get such armor like this on rent, truly it was a snatch ... .except it was hot and heavy to move in!

‘Maybe I need water..yeah water might do the trick!’ She made her way to the buffet table that had the most drool worthy food on it. It looked so good she almost bumped into a waiter that suspiciously looked familiar to her. Is it just her or has she seen those blue eyes and strange hairstyles before? Eh it's hard to see through the helmet anyway.

A few minutes pass, and the mermaid crystal is now revealed to the guests by Mr Kaneri’s assistant, kaneko. The beauty of the treasure shown on television could not compete with the real deal! It looks stunning and amazing, and- is that Joker?! Emily paused in the middle of feasting on the delicious custards to see LITERALLY KAITOU JOKER OUT IN THE OPEN COMING DOWN FROM THE CEILING?! She couldn’t believe it! Has Joker already planned to take the mermaid crystal this early? Or has he already done it? How?!

As if she heaviness of the armor Emily is wearing didn’t bother her anymore, she instantly brought out her pen and notepad (guests who were beside her was looking at her weirdly like ‘did this knight just pull out a pen and paper out of thin air?’) preparing to make a beeline towards the fight breaking out in stage between iInspector Oniyama and “Joker”. Until that beeline was cut short, now Emily stood a good feet away from the mess of her uncle who was actually wearing a joker costume, shouting at Inspector Oniyama and her crew of attacking him. To the Oniyama’s defense, the costume looked TOO much like Joker.

Emily sighed at this and turned around to go back to her previous spot at the food buffet. She could hear bits of conversation of Mr Kaneri and oniyama’s conversation but she isn’t one to eavesdrop so-

“By the way, have you seen my lovely niece Emily? She said that she’ll be here at my party tonight!” Mr Kaneri boasted about making Oniyama tilt his head. “Your niece? Emily?” “Yes! Emily Oak! The famous journalist that wrote articles about the rotten Joker! You see I’m planning on convincing her to write articles about ME instead, because I’m so rich and famous it would definitely indeed turn heads!”.

‘You know what I think it's a great idea to hide in the kitchen for a while’ her legs guided her quickly into the kitchen. Big mistake, she was faced with four heads turned towards her. Emily blinked at two out of the four familiar heads, grinning behind her helmet at the sight of them. She pointed at them.

“Hachi! Joker!”

….

“WHO ARE YOU?!”

///

“I didn’t realize it was you, Miss Emily!” Hachi exclaimed as Emily took off her helmet and smiled at the ninja boy “Sorry for making you panic back there in the kitchen, it's nice to see you again!”. She didn’t get to spend that much time with hachi the last time they met (that being he was literally helping Joker steal something) but she can just tell from his adorable face he is just sweet. Hachi looked at Joker who was staring at the other two with bis hands on his hips

“Hey so what's up with Joker-“

“I’ev heard lots of rumors..so you’re the big up and comer, Spade”

Emily’s eyes instantly darted to the two, the time has finally come! She is now in the presence of the one and only phantom thief Spade!

“King, you must be this Spade’s apprentice”

Wait what?

Emily slowly puts down the pen she didn’t even realize she was holding (must be muscle memory) confused. Joker just continued to talk, “Unlike you, I’m already on my own. And I have my own apprentice! This is Hachi, my number #1 apprentice”. “A pleasure to meet you!” said the apprentice.

The journalist couldn’t help but smile softly at the way Joker is proudly introducing Hachi. To think this was the same Joker she met in the past when he was still new to being a phantom thief is astonishing! Oh how the times have changed. He was even defending Hachi when this apparent “King'' made a remark of how small the ninja is. Oh how it warms her heart to see this.

“By the way, this is Emily Oak! My journalist friend”

Aw he’s introducing Emily as well?

“She writes articles about ME, very good ones in fact. That just adds weight to how much I have grown” Joker smirks as he crosses his arms together looking like an athlete showing off his medals.

‘I should have expected that..’ Emily waves her hands in front of her when King and his friend turned to look at her as she tries to explain more about herself “I don’t only write about Joker of course”The brown hair female failed to notice Joker’s side eye beside her “I am also interested in writing about other phantom thieves. That's actually one of the main reasons why I’m here, to interview phantom thief spade”

King and partner glanced at each other for a moment before looking back at the journalist. “That’s very nice of you, emily. We would love to be in your articles, it might even be more popular than Joker over here” King said with the last few words a bit louder , irking the tophat phantom thief. “Hey!” “J-just who are you to Mr Joker anyway?”

The next sentence that came out of the king's mouth was like a golden buzzer for our girl. It's not everyday she gets information about Joker’s childhood heck even his life when he’s not doing his phantom thief stuff even! She has always wondered what Joker’s childhood was like. To grow up, training to become a phantom thief must be tough right? Who was his mentor? Did he live in a secret isolated place like in those spy movies? Or a hideaway buried deep in nature where the only access to get food was hunting?

Well at least now she knows that he and King were training partners under the same master. Just wait till her article fans hear about this!

Emily was too busy thinking about what she’ll write in the upcoming article, she didn’t mind the current argument happening with king and joker. Er..something about ‘that summer’? Eh, the girl was too far in her thoughts to even listen unlike hachi who was dying of curiosity.

“Hey, what happened that summer?’ Please tell me!”

“Shut up! I’m not like I was back then! No matter what you people do, that crystal will be mine!”

In response to Joker’s claim, King just confidently crossed his arms ``We'll see about that, you don’t want to underestimate the skill of phantom thief spade. Let’s compete to see who can recover the Mermaid’s crystal first!”. The monologue was accompanied with his partner’s chuckle in the background (very nice add on might I say).

Emily’s brain was busy functioning this situation at the moment. ‘Two phantom thieves’ + ‘compete’ = SCORE STORY!!! For a moment she squealed, making everyone look at her for a second. Joker smiled to himself when he noticed Emily’s expression, it's one that he has seen many times before and assumed she was already loving the idea of this.

Not wanting to let her upcoming article be a disaster (and his pride won’t allow it), Joker returns King’s confidence with a smirk “I have no intention of losing to you two”. Hachi shared the same confidence, ready to be alongside Joker to win this challenge.

…

“Wah, I’m so full..”

!

The five of them looked to see inspector oniyama nearby with his partners. ‘Oh crap!’ Emily thought to herself, quickly putting on her armor helmet. She didn’t want to be caught by none other than the police with phantom thieves, especially inspector oniyama! He doesn’t even know she’s here to begin with! Besides if he does then Mr Kaneri will know..and then- She shivers at the thought of being in an endless bound conversation with her distant uncle where most of the time it's just him talking about himself.

“You’re so under arrest, Joker!!” Inspector Oniyama yelled out, dashing towards the phantom thief. Joker and Hachi both stand in their place, barely having any time to make a run for it until the king's partner swiftly moves in front of them facing the police. ‘Eh?’ Emily thinks, now that she is thinking about it she has never been introduced to King’s partner yet..

Luckily inspector oniyama also wanted to know who was the person standing in between him and Joker as well, “W-who are you?!”. King wasted no time in introducing that, his partner is Phantom thief spade. Emily gasped at the introduction, ‘This is perfect!’ She thought, ‘I can’t believe I’m going to see the phantom thief spade in action right in front of me!’

“Evil glance!” A bright light shines from Spade’s single eye (the one thing that stood out from his bandaged head (weird choice design but…still cool)) blinding inspector oniyama, momo and ginko. Just like that, three officers were down on the floor asleep once the light faded away. Emily looked at the three unconscious figures in wonder at what just happened beside Joker “Woah..” “T-that was so cool!”. Spade looked back at Joker, “Now you owe me one”. The spiky haired phantom thief gritted his teeth “I didn’t ask for you to do that!”.

The journalist on the other hand, hummed behind her helmet, “Thank you for that, Spade and King!”. Joker whipped his head to look at her “Don’t compliment the competition!!”. Spade smirked and winked, “No problem, Emily. Well, we’ll be taking that treasure. See you then”. He and spade ran off ignoring Joker’s constant yells of not letting his childhood friend steal the treasure he’s targeting. Hachi looks on in determination and notices emily walking away to where the part was. “Hm? Emily, you’re going too?” Asked the phantom thief apprentice. The girl smiled sheepishly, admitting that she’ll be heading inside to where king and spade are “I don’t want to miss spade and king steal the mermaid crystal..” “How do you know they’ll steal the mermaid, we’ll do it first!” Joker huffed as he crossed his arms, hachi mirrored his movements. Emily chuckled, “You better do it fast then, goodluck you too!” She gave a thumbs up which was returned with smirks and smiles before running to the party leaving the other two behind.

//

Once Emily entered the party room, she tried her best to find Spade and King. No really, she did! Like literally looking up and down, the kitchen, the toilet, everywhere! Seriously what kind of training did he and joker do in the past that involved both of them being able to hide so perfectly well?!

She sighed to herself, the journalist was hoping to meet them for a quick second along for a little mini interview but it seemed like that wasn't going to happen. She glances at the bag behind her, there was another reason why she wanted to see them again..

She found a tranquilizer gun.

In fact she found it on her way to the party on the floor. ‘Is it theirs?’ She wonders, ‘or is it..someone else's?!’ The thought of someone in the party with a tranquilizer gone got her sweating…it even makes her sweat bullets because now she has the gun in her bag.

‘If anyone were to see me with this..’ Emily internally panicked at the thought of someone catching her with the tranquilizer gun. She didn’t want to go to jail yet!!

Fortunately the thoughts slowly go away as Kaneko and Mr Kaneri go up on stage to announce the winners of the- eh? There was a costume contest? Emily surely didn’t know that, but the prize must be amazing then if it came from a rich man like Mr Kaneri!

“The winner indeed will receive a year’s supply of Mr. Cookie!” Mr Kaneri announces as the projector behind him projects an image of his cookie brand. Emily sweatdropped ‘why did I even bother..?’, for once she assumed her distant uncle would give out an expensive prize, she wonders who the winner of the competition is.

Before the winner is revealed though, the doors to the entrance of the room opens and Spade stands there chuckling “kukukuku”.

Emily gasps, holding her hands in front of her helmet at the sight (the guests who beside her looked at her weirdly yet again). It's the big moment of the show! Spade is now going to steal the mermaid treasure. ‘But wait..where’s King?’

“Evil glance!” Light yet again appears from Spade’s glowing eye blinding everyone, including Emily this time. However instead of sleeping like what happened with inspector Oniyama and his partners, the girl didn’t feel herself growing unconscious. Once the light faded, Emily along with multiple other guests blinked in confusion. Obviously the guests are wondering what just happened but Emily was the most confused out of them. ‘Huh?? Why aren't I unconcious? Isn’t that supposed to happen?’ Emily thought to herself, as she takes a look at Spade who is unmoving from his spot. Looking more closely, Spade was indeed not looking too good. In fact he seemed like he was panicking.

‘WHAT IS HE DOING?! IS THIS NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN???’ She looked in worry feeling bad for the phantom thief. This was supposed to be the moment where he and King (again where is he) steal the mermaid crystal..and it went totally wrong! How is she supposed to make this sound amazing but also truthful in her article? ‘Phantom thief Spade fails to steal the Mermaid Crystal’? Oh dear..

As if anything else could get worse, Inspector Oniyama along with Ginko and Momo bursted in immediately capturing Spade by dog piling! Great now Emily might as well write ‘Phantom thief Spade fails to steal the Mermaid Crystal AND gets dog piled by police’ as the title of her article!

There could only be one thing to do now.

That's right.

Visit the caged Spade alone.

You would think security would be tight but for some reason, Emily has no problems sneaking in to check up on the caged phantom thief behind bars. She still had to take precautions though so she kept her helmet on. There wasn’t even anybody else in the room, just her and Spade. The journalist made her way in front of Spade with the only thing separating the two was the bars holding the phantom thief in. “Spade,” Spade looked up to see a knight in front of him. For a second he thought it was just some random party guest that wandered into the room but soon realized it was the girl he met on the ship’s dock once Emily lifted up her helmet to reveal her face

“M-miss Emily? What are you doing here?” Spade said out loud, curious on why she decided to come visit a literal criminal. The girl replied with a hum “Since you’re basically arrested now and most likely to be going to jail as soon as this ship gets onto land, I want to spend these last moments of interviewing” she frowned at the last words. Emily felt disappointed a bit to see such a phantom thief like spade get caught like this but..it's not she could do anything about that. Spade’s body paused at the brown haired girl’s words, ‘This girl..wants to interview me? Even though I’m-‘

“Ok first things first I need to ask you about something” Emily reached to take something out of her bag. Spade titled his head wondering what it might be.

He expected many things but no once did the thought of a tranquilizer gun being an option.

Emily may not see it, but Spade was shocked to see the gun in her hands. I mean how did the journalist get her hands on it?! Did it fell off when-

“I just want to make sure this is yours and King’s…because I really hope it is since the idea of someone else on the ship with a gun like this wouldn’t ease my worries” Emily nervously chuckled and turned the tranquilizer gun to fidget with it. “Actually now that I think about it, this is my first time holding a gun” “Miss Emily please be careful on holding that” Spade warned the person on the other side of the bars, the last thing he wants at the moment is something to go wrong. She assures the phantom thief, while holding on to the gun loosely “Its fine I got this-“

“So this is the so-called phantom thief Spade!” A third familiar voice in the room called out behind her.

“AAAH!!”

Bam! Out of panic, Emily accidently shot a nearby crate with the tranquilizer gun and quickly put the knight helmet on her head. ‘Oh shoot! It's..’, she turned around to see a shocked Mr Kaneri clutching his Mr Teddy in his hands as if his life depended on it. ‘Oh no!!’ the journalist mentally cried out, quickly putting the tranquilizer gun in her backpack. She didn’t mean too, really! You all saw that! She doesn’t quite like her distant uncle but not so much to shoot him! Her eyes shifted towards the guard behind Mr Kaneri staring at her through his glasses.

‘Its over.’ Emily has accepted her fate, freezing on her spot. This is the end. She was caught talking to a literal criminal, almost shot someone and a guard was there to witness all of it. “Y-you-! You tried to shoot me! Guard! Arrest him! He indeed needs to be locked up with that thief as well!” Mr Kaneri pointed straight at Emily, who was only accepting her fate more when she realized her uncle doesn’t even recognize her. Great so she’ll be going to jail by her own distant uncle.

This is the end of Emily Oak’s life..

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The guard made no move to arrest Emily however instead he knocked Mr Kaneri out. No seriously, the journalist was now looking down at her unconscious uncle as the guard was tying him up. “What..” Emily gaped, not understanding what is happening right now. What was she feeling? Shocked? Confused? The poor girl could feel herself shaking a bit. After successfully tying up the rich man, the guard stood up to face Emily with a smile. She gasped when she recognized who the guard was.

“You're an interesting one, Emily. I didn’t even realize my tranquilizer gun was missing until the last minute” King let out a chuckle while making his way to let Spade out of the cage. He patted his partner’s arm as an act of comfort before looking back at her with a curious look, “Are you sure you’re not secretly a phantom thief?” Emily quickly shook her head at the question, “Me? No way, I just happened to find the gun on the floor as I was walking to the party. You guys must have dropped it” Besides, I don't think I can handle the intense life of being a phantom thief again, she mentally added. .

“So what are you going to do now?” “Continue our mission to steal the mermaid crystal of course! Don’t tell me you thought we’ll just let Joker and his apprentice take it from us.” “Ahaha of course not, I wish you luck for you two!”

King and Spade leave the room after bidding their goodbyes to Emily. Now it was just her and Mr Kaneri’s slumped, tied up unconscious body on the floor. He was even snoring- is he dreaming of something?! Emily shakes her head and smiles, ‘I've seen what Spade and King had done..perhaps it's now Joker and Hachi’s turn!’ She grins and makes her way to the party room.

The phrase ‘The show must go on’ fitted perfectly for what was going to happen next in my opinion. Despite just capturing a phantom thief, someone must have thought it was a good idea for the party to still continue, not that Emily minded she was interested in how things will turn out. Especially since she hasn't seen Joker make any moves to get the treasure yet. Speaking of the devil, as soon as the girl was wondering where her friend was, the lights turned off and there Joker was, standing on the stage with a confident stance.

‘There he is! Oh and since everyone knows that Mr Kaneri is dressing up as Joker no one is batting an eye’ Emily mentally noted how smart this trick was, it was just as easy as taking a candy from a baby. Joker seemed to not even hide his victory smirk as he approached where Kaneko and the mermaid crystal is. However he didn’t get to even touch the treasure. Somebody stopped him and that someone is none other then..Inspector Oniyama.

“So under arrest!”, he and a few other officers cornered Joker on the stage. The phantom thief was surrounded the only thing left to do was the inspector making sure this was the real deal or just Mr Kaneri (He secretly hoped it was the later).

“You’re a fool, indeed!”

It was the latter.

Emily was starting to get a headache, so that wasn’t Joker but her distant uncle? Wait but that doesn’t make any sense, she saw the old rich man asleep a few minutes ago… and what do you mean he won the costume contest?! She stared in confusion as Mr Kaneri cackled on stage, embracing the fact that he became the winner of his OWN contest.

But what’s that..?

Another Mr Kaneri appears on stage?! Commotion arrupts from everyone, this has turned into a mess!. ‘What..is happening??!!’ Emily looks back and forth at the two Mr Kaneris from her position in the crowd. Instantly, being the one and only japanese police inspector that is determined to catch his target criminal, inspector oniyama and his subordinates jump on stage to set the record straight on who is who.

In the end though, the mystery was solved when one Mr Kaneri realized the other Mr Kaneri was King. This caused both of them to take off their disguise and can you guess what happened next? Yeah, you’re right, they both got captured and taken to the cage Spade once was.

Ok let's be honest here, this whole story Emily Oak has witnessed so many twists and turns. She wasn’t even surprised to be asked to help distribute curry laced with whatever was in the tranquilizer by Hachi and Spade. You can say she was already tired and wanted to get over this. The journalist began pushing the trolley from the kitchen to the party room when she heard the little ninja beside her sigh.

“What’s wrong Hachi?” She asks wondering why Hachi was sighing. “Its just..I really want to know why Mr Joker seems to have a bad history with dipping sauce! But he won’t tell me one bit of it.” he crossed his arms, seemingly annoyed he can’t know. Emily chuckles and assures him, “Its ok, Hachi. It must be an embarressing past if he doesn’t want to tell you what it is. Everyone has their secrets after all.” The asisstant hummed, taking her words before realizing something, “Hey Miss Emily, why aren’t you with them?” “Them?” “Yeah Inspector Oniyama and the others, normally when there is a event where me and Mister Joker attend you always stick with the police force.” The brown hair girl titled her head as she continued to push the trolley with the curry pot at his question. Emily was considering on telling him the reason why she got invited to the party…but then the thought of the ninja telling his master that Mr Kaneri is her distant unlce. It would open so much opperunities, oppertunites that will lead to trouble.

“Everyone has their secrets, Hachi”

“What?”

Emily continued to push forwards, quickening her pace.

“MISS EMILY??”

//

“I am the true phantom thief spade!”

“What?!”

After putting everyone to sleep with the curry, the trio managed to save the two phantom thieves and are now standing at the dock of the ship just like what happened last time. For some explanation, Joker managed to snag the mermaid cyrstal before Spade and King could. Now this is the part where emily would write down what happened, and smile with a “I guess joker won again, I can’t wait to tell my readers!” UNTIL..

It was revealed that King was actually Spade the entire time?! And the “spade” was actually King’s assistant, Dark Eye?! This is the last plot twist the journalist could handle, she is going to lose it if it weren't for Spade giving a dramatic departure as he steals the treasure away from Joker in his airship….do all phantom thieves have airships?

The journalist continued to look at the distant blip flying away. So she has a story, she just expected it to go like this. Emily chuckles as she thinks to herself ‘This was a fun night..’

Joker and Hachi stop their current bickering (yet again it was Hachi asking about the summer dipping sauce and Joker refusing to tell anything about it) to stare at the girl. The spiky hair thief decided to speak first, “What are you laughing about?” “I was just thinking how fun this whole night was..I can’t believe I got to meet Phantom thief Spade. He sure is an interesting fellow”.

Joker huffed and crossed his arms “Don’t compliment the competition!”. “Yeah! And don’t worry we’ll win next time!” Hachi added with a determined smile shared with his master.

“I can’t wait-“

“JOKER!!!” “Give me back my treasure, indeed!!”

Uh oh

The three of them turn to see a very awake Mr Kaneri and Inspector Oniyama running towards them at full speed. Emily quickly puts on her knight helmet to shield her identity as Joker and Hachi…jump off the ship into the ocean?! She quickly looks down by the railing as she sees the two of them in the ocean. ‘What an exit..’

“Ah! Inspector! That was the knight that almost shot me earlier, indeed!”

Emily did a sharp turn to face her distant uncle, “WHAT?!” No way..is her uncle really going to make the police arrest her?!

.

.

.

.

Well I guess she has to exit as well

SPLASH!

[The end]

————————————————————

WOWEEE so there we have it folks! You have reached the end of the story! Damm that took long! So this is the chapter where Emily meets Spade for the first time, I quite think they will have a nice friendship with one another. Maybe he’ll spill embaressing secrets about Joker to her a bit and Joker will be like “I DID NOT DO THAT” but like yk he did. What’s that? The ending seems to be lacking? Well I warned you! I’m like running a race, I start strong, end tired and begging my friend to give me my water bottle. I tried my best either way though, I guess this is about 4000 words? This will be a rare case..I don’t think I’ll ever be doing something like this again..

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it and have a nice day or night‼️ ✨

-Huhu

[imaginidol]

Xiumin: “Listen to this, and tell me if you like it…”

You’re sitting at a table where Xiumin is going back and forth between practicing guitar and scribbling lyrics to a potentially new song. You’ve known each other only for a couple months, but you’ve grown to be good friends with each other since then, becoming close enough to be constantly bickering at one another all the time.

“This tune might sound nice,” he muffles through his mask.

“Yeah, you’d sound angelic, too, if you weren’t sick,” you teased, motioning towards the mask on his face.

He rolls his eyes. “Not my fault I can’t prevent a cold. But that doesn’t stop me from writing pretty music!”

You scoff and go back to scrolling through your phone. You’re looking through Baekhyun’s latest updates regarding his upcoming mini album, which he’s only briefly implied to be ready for a full comeback in a recent interview.

“What are you reading?” Xiumin asks, and you’re caught off guard because you hadn’t noticed he’d been staring at you for a short minute.

“Nothing,” you blush, and turn off your phone.

“Show me! You’re red!” Xiumin pleads, and extends his arm out towards you.

“No, go back to your little guitar!” You cover your phone with your right hand and turn your chair around, avoiding him completely.

“Hmph. Fine,” he mutters, defeated. He turns back to his lyrics, and tampers with his pen for a bit before putting it down to stare at you again.

This time, your back is facing him, and he leans back to read whatever’s on your phone: Baekhyun’s New Comeback! Confirmed or Not Before Christmas?

“You’re hooked on Baekhyun’s comeback, when you have me right here?” He scoffs this time, forcing you to instantly turn around and glare at him.

“XIUMIN!” You shout.

“What?” He laughs.

“Let me have this moment! Besides, why don’t you tell me more about it. He’s your best friend. Or more like your brother. Let me know all the details!”

“Sure, I can do that,” he rolls his eyes. “And then what do you want me to do? Tell him you’re obsessed and wanna date him?”

“XIUMIN!! Don’t you DARE!”

He throws his head back in a laughter. “You get too flustered around him,” he pauses, “though I wish I was your favorite.”

You slump back in your chair. “Of course you’re my favorite. But you’re also my friend, and I can’t be crushing over you like that, you know?”

He stares back, blankly. “No, I don’t know.”

You giggle and turn back to your phone. “You’ll be my favorite-favorite when you write a song prettier than Candy. Or Cry For Love. Or Bambi.”

His eyebrows furrow, and he pulls up closer to you. “Fine, then. Listen to this, and tell me if you like it,” he says, and stars to strum along to a beautiful set of verses that scream the theme of falling into a deep, uncharted love story.

Once he’s done, he turns to you, eager to hear your thoughts. “What’s missing?”

You watch his eyes, which are carefully watching your expression. “You know,” you begin, “it’s actually… really sweet. I don’t think you’re missing anything, Minseok.”

He tugs his mask slightly over the bridge of his nose, and smiles towards his guitar. “No, im serious, what about the lyrics do you want to hear more of?”

Your gaze is fixated on his eyes now, carefully studying his expression, or at least the little bit that you can study from under the mask.

“I’m being serious, too, Minseok. Your song is beautiful. But…” you pause, unable to continue.

“But what? Is it the chord progression?”

“No,” you start. “But… can you sing the last verse again? I want to listen to that again.”

He obeys you excitedly, and sings the last part of his lyrical poem in a most heartwarming manner. His eyes move across the pages of lyrics on the table, and they slowly crawl their way to your hands. He’s singing quieter, his attention focusing gently on you.

There’s a moment where he pauses, and his eyes lock with yours.

He sings a line, one that seems to be dedicated to a lover, but the songs pace slows,

ever so slightly,

after every…

passing…

second…

You feel yourself blush lightly, but you don’t understand why. Why do I feel…?

Xiumin finishes his last line, dragging out the last adlib, his eyes slowly making their way to your lips.

He ends his line, and there’s a moment when you both sit in silence, staring into each other’s gaze.

“Xiu,” you say quietly, placing your hands on your knees.

“Yes?” He whispers, his gaze completely fixated onto you.

“Don’t move,” you say, your hands slowly reaching for his mask. “You’re not… you’re not sick…”

You pull down his mask, but he doesn’t protest. “You sing like yourself, you’re not sick at all,” you whisper. “Why’s that?”

He hesitates, pulling his eyes away from your lips.

“Tell me,” he whispers. “What do I need to do, to be more like him?”

You’re quiet, unable to move your hands away from his face. “I don’t… I don’t know,” is all you can mutter.

“Maybe I wear my mask,” he whispers, “to hide the fact that I can’t help but get flustered around you.”

His eyes are infatuated with you.

“I haven’t been sick in a long time. But if a mask can hide the jealousy I feel when you talk about my brother the way you do, then it can also hide the hot, stupid smile I get when I see you walk into a room.”

You don’t respond, but you’re frozen in place, unsure of whether to take your hands off his face or not. Your hands are surely sweating, but the feeling of his tensed jaw under your fingers won’t let you leave.

Then, he does something painfully terrible.

He smiles.

Bad move, you think, because suddenly, you feel your face get hot, and your heart skips a beat.

“You didn’t answer me earlier,” He whispers, wrapping his hands around yours, and slowly descending them down to your lap. He reached his right hand up to your cheek, rubbing his thumb against your lip.

“I don’t think I ever told you how much I love hearing you call me by my name,” he whispers. You feel his hot breath slowly drawing closer, his eyes completely situated on your eyes, your lips, your eyes, your lips…

“What do I need to do, to be your favorite member of EXO?”

“I think… I don’t… Xiu—”

“Say it,” he insists, “say I’m your favorite.”

“You’re…” you stutter, “you’re my favorite…”

His gaze drops to your lips.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, then lets out a small sigh. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

Suddenly, he sits back up in place, and places his guitar back on its stand. He walks up to a desk with music equipment and opens a cupboard, pulling out a small case and bringing it back to you. He places it carefully on your lap. On it read,

Hope you enjoy being the first fan to listen to my new mini album! Listen to this in secret! Much love, Baekhyun xx

“Wha—what— I’m so,” you’re stuttering, unable to comprehend anything that just happened in the span of the last five minutes.

“What? You think I wouldn’t make sure to get you a signed personal copy of his new music? Don’t show that to anyone, alright?”

You glare at him, pick up the album on your lap, then gasp at him in disbelief.

“I can’t STAND you!” You cover your face with the album, absolutely flustered at him right now!

He lets out a loud laugh, proud of his little stunt, and reaches for his pockets. He pulls out his car keys, and turns them towards you.

“Get ready in ten minutes. You and I are going out to dinner.”

You grunt, peeking over your new album and catching a glimpse of his warm grin, one that you won’t be able to get out of your head now. There is no way of hiding the loud smile that is taking over your face right now.

And ultimately, there is no way of hiding the sudden, huge crush you just spawned for the boy standing right in front of you.

[astronautbatman]

human target #1-6 thoughts

okay this is not getting read by anyone and this came out like 2 years ago but i really wanted to get some thoughts down.

first of all! the JLI timeline in this is somewhat confusing. ted and booster seem like theyre in their in the forties/maybe fifties for ted which seems about right, but tora and guy seem like theyre in their twenties/mid thirties at the latest? the age range isnt an issue by itself bc obviously the characters couldnt have all been the same age in JLI. but the way they talk about their days on the team together, it sounds like it happened a good few years ago so is the implication that tora was in her teens when this was happening? so then why does she look pretty much the same in the photos/flashbacks while ted especially looks a lot younger? and also they do mention her and fire being on multiple other superhero teams before they join the JLI like in the original run so how old was she supposed to be then ???

i feel like this issue is mostly because they wanted tora to be like this younger more innocent (or is she) woman to christopher guests middle-aged cynical man which is obviously a staple pairing in noir writing. but like … aside from the kindof weirdness that dynamic always brings, in this case it also confuses the story a bit. and it’s definitely a departure from the orignal JLI where her and bea are probably late twenties at the youngest when they join the JLI.

which brings me to one of the fundamental issues ive seen people have with this: tora’s character. she doesn’t really fit the femme fatale character but tom king keeps trying to force her into that role for the sake of the crime noir genre he’s going for and it just isn't working for me. more than (almost) anyone else she reads like a very different character than the one established in justice league international. instead of being generally quite open and honest, its implied shes trying to manipulate christopher guest with her feminine wiles (?) or something. which just seems like an odd fit for her character.

the only characterisation that i found more egregious was guy gardner (rip). it genuinely does feel like tom king had heard secondhand abt guys character, decided he was a bad guy (no pun intended) and wrote him to be that in this story. calling tora a bitch repeatedly, basically stalking her and christopher guest, overall just acting abusively towards her. i hate it! who let tom king near this man! never in my life have i seen such character assassination before. i never want to see the words ‘my little girl’ written on a page again.

i also did not really care for the way tom king wrote ted. his character in this can be simplified to just eccentric™️ businessman who talks too much. and is also the blue beetle. its not awful but i feel like it really misses what makes ted a fun character to read. like if you’re going to have so much text on each panel covering up greg smallwoods beautiful art then at least have him make a few jokes? i was also gonna talk about booster gold in this but its gotten wayyy too long so i’ll just say he feels like a bit of a caricature and he is saved only by greg smallwood’s ability to draw facial expressions.

saying all this, i actually have been enjoying this story. i dont understand why tom king didnt just make up a new superhero team à la watchmen and have the story been about them instead of using pre-existing characters whose personalities dont fit the genre. as a fan of raymond chandler’s books i actually think tom kings done a good job of blending the more serious noir influences with the superhero setting whilst still maintaining a consistent tone throughout. and the pacing is really good! it somehow manages to feel like a slow burn whilst having a lot happen over a few days. so its annoying that this story feels a little wasted on the justice league characters and vice versa.

anyways

i’m still kind of torn on this story and if i like it or not. i’m probably going to keep reading bc i’m invested now so if i do i might make a second post for issues #7-12. and greg smallwood’s art deserves its own post with examples so i might do that too when i’m finished with this.

[harrison-abbott]

clung to islands

I read this handsome hardback book. With a gold cover and it has one of those string bookmarks attached to the top. But the prettiness of the book has nothing compared to the madness inside, written by a man one hundred and forty years back. I wonder what the author would think, now, up in the clouds, if he could see me reading his book, what he would think. The words are black and stark and I rarely have a clue what exactly he’s meaning, but they’re still brilliant, and this to me is what literature is for.

For a moment I pause from the book. And head downstairs. The cat needs out. The animal is so old it’s a marvel that she’s still alive; deaf and nervous. She hasn’t been deaf her whole life but she’s always been nervous and maybe that’s why she’s lived so long. Opening the kitchen door, a gush of cold air comes in. Still not as cold as it should be in October. Even in this ‘rich country’ we’re witnessing climate heating; oh, and, the people in charge just sanctioned a new oil drilling project three hundred miles up north!

One of the latest headlines in the news, which I can barely stomach anymore, for all of its ferocious content. Wait for the cat to come back in out of the dark.

Standing in the kitchen in the mid a.m. hours. Wondering what to do with the next gabble of years and whether I’ll ever be financially applicable or whether I will crash and whether my health will finally burst disaster and my body implode.

The cat returns, slow and sleek at the same time. I head back upstairs. Got to finish the madman’s book before I go to sleep. Reading literature can be like clinging to islands on a vast expanse of water with nobody around to come and see you; this, I suppose, is often how writers may feel whilst they’re composing their texts.

I ponder if people would be reading my stuff 140 years henceforth. If, indeed, there is still an inhabited planet by then. There is conflict still raging, here and now, after 70 years; people that still habitually despise each other because they are different. Longer than seventy, actually. It’s hard to keep hope. Even when all of that mayhem is nowhere near you in proximity. Outside, as I head through the pages, I listen to the wind pick up in the October trees. Scraping the remnants of the leaves of the boughs; a kind of bloodless war in itself. Who knows what will come of me. Maybe nothing. The world is far more important than I am; it’s only that I wish I could help it a bit more. Long for the skills to do that.

[waitmyturtles]

TEACH! TEACH! I can ‘splain, I CAN ‘SPLAIN! 

What’s my ‘splanation? My ‘splanation is.... all that good stuff about cinematography and color analysis -- I pay no attention to it until you post about it ::wobbly tears in eyes::! I just look at the shows and think, wwWoooWww, pretty, colors, ooooh! 

No, seriously -- if this show is a perfect fit for you (at least in the early run), then YAY! I’m here to report that there is more, yes MORE, color mentions in episode 2, too. Gigi-girl has got us covered.

And another bad student moment: I actually had some ish finding the Phupha | Nanfah prequel on YT today, after I watched episode 2, so I appreciate reading your reporting of this prequel! I did NOT know it was based on a true story, omg. I believe it was @absolutebl​‘s original review where I read that the prequel wasn’t exactly necessary, so I jumped right into the series, but if I find the prequel at some point, I’ll take a look.

I was going to do a separate post to quickly review episode 2, but I’ll do it here instead, if you don’t mind, @respectthepetty​-senpai: episode 2 does confirm, at least for me, that Phu will rank high on the pissed-off scale. Right now, I have him at a solid 8. Why?

First off, episode 2 did many more deep dives into their background (which, again, makes me believe that the prequel is not a prerequisite -- we get a LOT of flashbacks, a LOT). 

And, I’m kind of tapping my watch to get more info on the separation, because Phu has to address A LOT. There’s that mysterious picture of them that Phu hesitates to put out in episode 1 -- we at least get background on that photo, but not as to why Phu hesitates to display it. We need more reasoning as to why Phu specifically chose an apartment on Nan’s floor. We need to know how long Phu has been tailing Nan. We need to know if Phu ever got Nan’s emails. We need to know why Phu studied advertising with Nan in college. We need to know if Phu ever took seriously that Nan had literal physiological effects from the separation with Phu, that he told Phu about in the emails, and what... Phu just, like, ignored that? For 10 years? If he even got and read the emails? (Which, I assume from his reaction to Nan’s question in this latest episode, means that, yes, Phu did get those emails.)

So to be honest, my anger with Phu is actually more like a 10-11, but I dock a point because (cough cough) he cute, so, ummm... meep? 

Oh, oh, and besides Phu being cute, and a coffee genius -- he sings! So that’s another point docked, because cute coffee guy sings (does that make me easy? Maybe that makes me easy). There’s singing and guitar playing. So now we have in this show: singing, AND dancing, AND cats, AND guitars, AND coffee, AND food, AND colors. And Phu uses Nan’s birthday as a lock code (of course). And remembers Nan’s favorite food (of course).

AND, AND, there’s that work colleague/sneaky “friend” guy in Nan’s life who ALSO knows Nan’s favorite food.

AND: this show doesn’t shy away from the early kisses, even if they were in flashback form. AND we even get some physical comedy, which honestly made me chuckle a little. Oh, AND a rooftop sleepy scene with lights and tents and weed and the whole bit. 

PHEW. I mean -- this show kinda has it all, right? At least for right now. For my tastes, while I love a slow burn, I think the pace is a leetle slow, and at the same time, I’m wondering how Phu’s reveal is going to last 10 episodes, meaning.... it better be a GOOD and BIG reveal, because to stretch out Phu’s hesitation means that the reasoning will have to be very, very solid. Phu left behind a community of queer granny stoners in Chiang Mai to (I think?! maybe?!) go get his man -- maybe?! We still don’t know! So, Phu, chop chop -- let’s get on this, because inquiring minds need to know. Granny needs to know, her friends need to know: what the hell is driving you back to Nan NOW?

But this show has tons of wonderful accoutrements, so I am thoroughly entertained. I’m sticking with this one -- Senpai, I hope you continue to like it, too!

@waitmyturtles, please report to the principal's office, immediately. I repeat, waitmyturtles, please report to the principal's office, immediately.

You have some explaining to do, gentle person. I watched the prequel to The Promise, and I have a few questions, like WTF, home slice?!

You didn't mention that THE cinematographers behind KinnPorsche, I Told Sunset About You, Great Men Academy, and The Warp Effect (Joy & Taweesak) are the cinematographers for this project! All you wrote was Khom, one of the directors of KinnPorsche, was the director for this. I would have already been here!

This is based on a true story! BUT WHY?! Is this going to be Like In The Movies?! And if you haven't seen it, just know, it ended realistically, which means not happily.

Next question - On a scale of 1-10, how pissed off am I going to be at this man?

Because right now, it's sitting at a solid 12, and I haven't even started the actual show.

Is there more dancing in the first few episodes? That might make me like him more.

The prequel informed me that Nan went to Melbourne EVERY YEAR to look for Phu and sent messages, yet Phu never responded and moseyed back into Nan's life like no big deal AFTER TEN YEARS.

Do we get a reason in the first few episodes or is my anger towards Phu going to rise to 15?

I just need to know, so I can act accordingly because I AM watching this show.

So how much do you dislike Phu right now? And responding that you don't dislike him is not acceptable. Pick a number, and it better be higher than 6. *stares into your eyes an uncomfortable amount of seconds*

-higher than 6-

[anime-rambles]

"OMEGA STOP PART 1"

Pairing: Alpha Bakugou x Alpha Kirishima x Omega Reader

Type: ABO Dynamic, Angst, blood, SFW

Word Count: 2900+

A/N: Seeing how everyone is loving “Welcome Home Omega” I decided to do another omegaverse fic this time with lots of angst. Thank you so much for all the kind words, reblogs, likes and follows. Was thinking of making a Part 2 for this? What do you think?

Summary: Omega y/n returns home to her alpha’s after being away in Europe, thinking she would be able to re-join her alphas and be happy. Only to discover they move on without her.

Link to Part 2 = https://anime-rambles.tumblr.com/post/657712192264814592/omega-stop-part-2

************************************************************************

I collect my suitcase from baggage claim and make my way towards the arrivals gate. It has been an incredibly long 8 years since I’ve been back home in Japan. After graduating UA with all my friends, I decided I needed a new path, something exciting that didn’t include my alphas. Being away from my family and friends has been one of the most difficult things to go through and more importantly being away from my alphas. It was nice to be needed and not just because of my second gender.

After graduating UA, I joined Fatgum’s agency and from there I met Jackie one of fat’s previous partners on the drug squad. She needed a bright new hero that wanted to work outside of Japan and head off a special unit in charge of investigating quirk enhancing drugs. At first everyone was onboard and excited fir me but as time went on, it was becoming increasing hard to keep in contact with my busy alphas. So, one Christmas, two years into the job we all agreed to stop dating and put our relationship on hold, until I was finished with the special unit or until one of the alphas said enough, come home. I agreed happily, never thinking I would get the come home call, but here I am. I left Europe and returned home.

The doors of arrivals opened in front of me, I look around the barrier hoping to see either of my boys, Bakugou or Kirishima, but neither blonde nor red head could be seen. I walk the corner a small bit, thinking they might be hiding but nothing. I spot movement in the distant, a blur of pink rushing to my arms, knocking me off balance.

“YYYY/NNNN, I CAN’T BELIEVE YOUR HOME” Mina sobs into my ear. “Mina” I say back hugging her tightly. Out of everyone in UA Mina stayed in constant contact with my updating me on the group’s latest gossip and everyone hero’s ranking. “Come on, lets get you home” She speaks again, taking one of my bags and my hand in hers. I smile to her and gladly accept her hand. Mina is an omega like me, after UA her and Sero got together and currently have a beautiful house and a serval fluffy cats. Once we reach the car and start our journey. Mina tells me of everyone, what they are doing and what is planned for my coming home party tonight.

“Wait, slow down, where are you taking me first” I say, laughing at her excitement. With her hands on the car wheel. She says “Bakugou and Kirishima’s” I pause for a second. They must just be living together and not actually still together without, right? They wouldn’t betray me, would they? These thoughts are fully my head, maybe coming home wasn’t a good idea. I should have ignored the “come home” agreement. What if they just want to use me to have their kid and toss me aside.

“Y/N, please say something, you made me promise not to talk about the boys when were away and right now you’re kinda scaring me.” She presses.

“I’m… just thinking. So out with it tell me what has been going on, why are they living together.” I asked shifting in my seat to look at her and she drives down the straight road.

“Okay, so it started whe….”

Mina basically said what I thought she might after I left fully and didn’t come back like we agreed. Kirishima and Bakugou stopped for a while, they didn’t live together, socialise or anything but after Kirhisma was badly injured in a battle, they moved back in with each other and kept their relationship quiet, it’s been 6 years, that they been together while I have been alone.

“So that’s basically all of it y/n, I’m sorr…”

I cut her off, “Mina this is not for you to apologise for, you kept your promise to me and now I must face the music as they say in Europe.” We had arrived outside their house ages ago, but we ended up talking. I step out of the car and move to grab my bags. I look up to the house, it’s huge and white. Very modern and what’s looks to be very expensive. But what can you expect from the Number 1 and Number 5 heroes in Japan. Mina steps out and comes to my side of the car to hug me goodbye and to tell me the information for tonight. Just then the front door opens, Kirishima steps out with a huge grin on his face. He has changed a lot since I left. He is like a wall, thick with muscle and sporting a high red ponytail.

“There she is,” Kirishima says, holding out his arms as he makes his way down the path towards me. I drop my bags and run to him. I can be anger later, but right now I need this hug. “Here I am,” I say back to him, I took my face into his neck to breathe him in, he tries to do the same but it is unable as I have my marks and scent glands covered as Europe has different rules than us. I can sense the confusion and say I will explain later. Kirishima greats Mina and they discuss briefly about this evening's plans and Mina is off on her way, waving goodbye. With his arm around me, he guides me inside towards the kitchen. We each stand on opposite sides of the Island, not knowing what to say first.

“So, where’s Bakugou? I thought you would both be at the airport” I say frankly to him, showing my frustrations. “He had to work, but he should be back home soon,” Kirishima replies shuffling his feet. I stare at him, I want to voice my anger, I want him to know how much I hurt, I need to do this with Bakugou. “Okay” I reply looking at my bags, why did I come here, why did I think we could go back to normal. “He’ll probably be late like always though, why don’t show you to your room and you can get ready for this evening” He smiled at me, like he trying to form an olive branch between us. I nod and follow him out of the room and up the stairs. All around me are reminders, parties I could not attend, award shows I missed but right now I can’t dwell on that. My time in Europe was the best experience of my life and right now I want to go back. Kirishima leads me to a guest room and leaves me to get ready. I sigh, this is going to be difficult.

************************************************************************

Doing the finishing touches to my hair, I smooth my dress down as I look in the mirror. I’m wearing a tight-fitting black dress, that is off the shoulders. I rub my hands down my neck, wishing I could have had the surgery to remove my mark guards yesterday before I came home. Just to show them, that I kept my promise to them. I hear noises downstairs, Bakugou had arrived home ages ago but did not even come to say hello, just went straight to the shower. Although I know what Mina told me was true, I needed proof if I was to enter an argument with Bakugou. I walk a small bit from my room trying to stay quiet, I turn a corner and see a wall of photo frames, most are from UA and some are from Dates we three had together. The difference, I was no longer in the photos, I was cut out. You could see my arm or a sliver of my hair and maybe an eye. I felt rejection, my inner omega whined. Why would they do this to me? I ripped the frame from the walls and marched downstairs. My heels clicked on the floor beneath me. I rounded the corner and enter the kitchen not bothering to wait for their conversation to finished. I throw the frames onto the countertop and look up at both of them making eye contact. If I wasn’t so mad and hurt, I would be shocked at how mature and sexy they both are right now. Kirishima's hair is half up, half down being supported with braids and he is in a maroon shirt opened slightly. Whereas Bakugou wears a white shirt and supports an undercut. My alphas have matured, I suppose I have as well.

Kirishima looks at the frames and stays quiet. Bakugou does not dare to break eye contact with me.

“So, let me get this straight. I leave home, to become great in something that is bigger than me. I leave my alphas with an agreement, that we all would hit pause, and eventually I would come back or get a called from either of you to come home. I follow the rules, and it seems to me what I got in thanks was to be cut from your lives.” I raise my voice, guesting to the pile in front of me.

“tck…” Bakugou replies and looks at Kirishima.

“Don’t tck me Bakugou, it seems to me that I’m not even wanted here anymore, so why was I called home, let me guess you need an omega to have your child and then I’m to disappear,” I respond. “No that’s not why we called you back” Kirishima speaks up, slightly walking towards to appear less hostile.

“Funny how you call us your alphas but yet, our marks, our bond is no longer on your neck,” Bakugou responds, pointing towards me. “They are not gone, they are covered by a skin slip, in Europe is safer to have them covered in case you are kidnapped and forced to bond with someone,” I say back to him. “Omega, please let us explain, I understand your hurt, but we want you still, your part of our family,” Kirishima replies placing a hand on my elbow. I jerk away from him.

“So, all this time, when I was away, suffering through my heats alone. Omega depression after omega depression. You two, were what? Together happily rutting away.”

“Yes, how do we know you never had it off with anyone else,” Bakugou said leaning on the Island in front of me. “Bakugou, don’t say that -” Kirishima scolded him. “- we don’t think that y/n”. I stand there shocked; I can sense he is hurt but right now I will not be his vent.

“ah, I see, I was away fucking my way through Europe apparently and my alphas decided that instead of coming to see me and to tell me. They went behind my back” I stare at Bakugou not daring to back down. “How do we know you weren’t, how do we know you didn’t get our marks removed?” Bakugou asked.

I scuffed and turned out of the kitchen, towards my bags that were left at the bottom of the stairs. Both Alphas stayed in the kitchen and spoke to each other. I opened my bags and reached into it to find a wrapped plastic bag. I walked back into the kitchen, hearing Bakugou raising his voice at Kirishima, “I can’t Kiri, you almost died.” Kirishima hushed Bakugou as I re-entered the kitchen. I threw the bag at Bakugou.

“Go on, open it -” I say with my hands on my hips. “- There’s your proof” I stand and watch it. Bakugou opens the bag and pulls out two jumpers, one of his and one of Kirishima’s. Their scent has well worn out but mine could be smelled. Years of being alone, years of depression, laid in their hands. Kirishima’s eye watered. “This proves nothing, maybe if you weren’t lying about our mark being gone, we wouldn’t have this problem,” Bakugou said, dropping the jumpers on the countertop. “What do you want me to do, perform surgery right now, you know once you never doubted me” I laugh under my breath.

“Yeah well once, you weren’t such a slut, betraying your alp-“Bakugou responded but Kirishima stepped in creating a barrier between us. Tears started to form in my eyes, my vision blurred. Fine, if Bakugou wants proof right now that I was loyal then fine, I’ll give it to him.

I look at my nails and smile to myself, I thank whatever god is listening that I have long pointed nails today. Kirishima is currently speaking to Bakugou, standing in front of me. I can no longer hear him. All I know is, those skin slips have to go now. I take a deep breath in and dig my nails into my neck around where the stitched used to be. I whimper, both can smell blood and turn to look at me. I rip the slip from my skin, blood starts to pour from my neck but nothing that would majorly hurt me. I reach for the other and dig my nails in. “Y/n stop, what are you doing” Kirishima reaches to stop me, but he’s too late I pulled the other off and make eye contact with Bakugou. “You wanted your proof, here you are Bakugou, take a whiff I have NEVER BETRAYED EITHER OF YOU” I scream, throwing the slips onto the counter and storm off.

“Omega come back now” Bakugou shouts after me, I can hear him chase me and reach for my arm. I pull it forward and turn to face him. Tear are leaving my eyes, ruining my makeup, my dress ruined from the blood. “What Katsuki, you believe me now? What do you want from me, why are you mad?” Bakugou stands in shock, unable to talk. “ANSWER ME NOW,” I scream again. Bakugou reaches forward grabbing my arms, tears forming in his. Kirishima was leaning on the door behind him.

“HE ALMOST DIED, AND YOU WEREN’T THERE, I WAS ALONE, WATCHING HIM DIE AND YOU WERENT THERE, YOU PROMISED ME I’D NEVER BEEN ALONE, AND YOU LEFT ME ALONE WAITING FOR HIM TO COME BACK” he roared at me. I shoved Bakugou off me.

“I CAME HOME WHEN EIJIROU WAS IN HOSPITAL” I shouted back, both alphas heads shot straight up and looked at me. “I was there, I broke me promise to stay away until I was asked by either of you to come home. But I saw the fight, I saw Eijirou get knockdown and didn’t get back up. I hopped on the nearest flight and came home. You need proof, ask Fatgum, Denki, Tamaki, Deku.. anyone who sat in that waiting room.” I said looking into Bakugou's eyes. Kirishima walked forward to join us. Bakugou went to speak. “No you let me speak, I was there. Kirishima opened his eyes and called me an angel and then you shot into the room in a panic and threw yourself on him. Bakugou you looked in my eyes and didn’t say a word, so I stepped back, you saw me there, you. Don’t blame this on me. Knowing how angry you would be, Deku came and got me, promising to watch over both of you.” I stopped to wipe the tears from my eyes.

“How dare you hold that over me Katsuki Bakugou,” I say to him, Kirishima reaches for my hand as if to pull us all back together. I step back, I need to breathe to get out. I walk about the front door, grabbing my handbag. “I’ll see you at the party, some welcome home this was,” I say not looking back and slam the front door.

I walk down the path and reach for my phone, dialing Mina’s number. “Hey girly, I’m just about to leave for the pub,” Mina says down the phone. I start to cry and sit down on the curb. “Sero, wait a second” Mina whispers away from the phone. “Y/n, what’s happened, what’s going on,” She says again her voice has lowered. “Mina I need some help; I can’t see everyone looking like this,” I say back to her. I cry again, I can hear the door behind me open and I stand. I turn and see Kirishima, “Y/n wait please, come back in, we can sort this out,” he says, and I look over his shoulder. Bakugou is frozen in the same spot, staring at the floor. “I’m almost there, start walking to me,” Mina says and hangs up. I bend down and undo the straps of my heels, steeping out of them leaving them on the step. I start to run down the street, I need some quiet, I need to think.

“OMEGA STOP” Bakugou shouts behind me, but I can’t. I see Mina’s car and run towards it.

[1tad0ri]

hiii. can i request a rough nsfw with sukuna where he's so frustrated with jujutsu sorcerers that he decided to unleash those said frustrations on the reader? like he just won't stop until he release all the stress inside him— kshjsch i feel like sukuna would do that 😳 he'll be rough all night long

warning: degradation, choking, breath play, very mild pain kink, hate fucking

ryoumen sukuna x fem!reader

i feel the same way so thank you, i’m going to be thinking about this for a long time

“you know, i really thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

the grip he had on your neck was bruising, but certainly a lot looser than you thought the king of curses would be. your hands clawed at him nonetheless, although the whole current concept of being shoved against the wall of your bedroom wasn’t exactly something you were complaining about.

the three impatient raps at your door earlier had you rolling out of bed, wanting to sleep after your latest mission. you’d thought it was yuuji, hungry for your warmth, but when you unlocked the door, rubbing your eyes and stifling a yawn, you’d been unceremoniously shoved backwards, the wind knocked out of you when your back met the wall. the glint of tattoos on a familiar face in the moonlight coming from your window told you all you needed to know.

sukuna watched you curiously and then his sickening grin was back, fingers squeezing a little harder. you gasped, stretching your neck away. “what? not going to answer?” he sneered, “maybe you all really are the same. scared little fucking sorcerers.” he leaned closer, breath fanning across your face. “isn’t that fucking stupid? you’re all a bunch of scaredy cats, aren’t you?” he pouted mockingly when he spat out the name. his lips were so close, if you just tilted forward—

no. whatever morbid fascination you harbored towards him didn’t change the fact he was... well... him. you stood your ground, leaning forward to bump your nose against his, your own scowl evident. “you can’t do anything, sukuna. once we find all the—”

“all my fingers you mean? the ones you can’t destroy on your own so you have to come up with some little plan to get rid of me?” he laughed bitterly in your face and you bit your lip, trying to calm your fury before you did something you’d regret. “it’s all the same. you’re scared of me. you don’t have the upperhand. never will,” he whispered at the end.

“i’m not scared of you.” your thoughts tumbled out of your mouth plainly without a second of hesitation, but the tilt of his head in question, his forehead brushing against yours, made you think that perhaps telling the truth around him was a very bad idea.

it was dark, hard to see his face, but god he was so close. “yeah? what are you then?”

good question. wait, no, bad question. bad, very bad, because you already knew the answer to it. or... did you? vocal chords at a stand still, there was no way to verbalize what you felt.

“hurry up, brat.” sukuna tightened his grip on your neck before loosening it just the smallest bit so you could speak. “i don’t have all day. how do you feel then? you with your little human emotions.”

words... what are the words. it turns out staring down a literal demon king in the eyes wasn’t the optimal place to think. “i... i don’t know.” your voice was small, unsure, lying.

the staring contest, backed by deafening silence, continued for a mere beat longer as you regarded each other with quiet contemplation. you could just barely make out his eyes and the curve of his lips, parted slightly. his breath was warm.

you couldn’t take it anymore and it seemed like he couldn’t either—you both automatically tilted your heads, lips pressing against each other easily, eyes falling shut. mouths sliding against the other, he gently pushed your head back to hit the wall, tongues running over one another. it was slow, hot, and you decided you should probably thank yuuji for keeping his lips so soft.

sukuna sucked your bottom lip between his own and your hands fell away from his grip on your neck to pull him closer by the front of his shirt (he hadn’t ripped it apart yet, an impressive feat). his leg slipped between your own, and you pushed down on it with your hips, the friction making you open your mouth further to him, something enticing about the fact he was a very good kisser.

but then it was like a switch flipped and his hold on your neck tightened once again. “what... what am i doing,” you thought he mumbled, voice hoarse (then again, your brain wasn’t exactly listening when you were busy making out with someone like him), kiss faltering for a brief moment. his lips curled into a frown, disdainful.

shoving you further into the wall as he pushed against you with his mouth, sukuna was all sharp teeth and rough lips now, swallowing up your whimpers, nothing soothing about it like his previous actions.

“i fucking hate you,” he spat, his hand abandoned your neck and moved up to squish your cheeks together, finding satisfaction in the way your lips puckering out, barely able to move. “do you hear me? i hate all of you.”

“the feeling’s mutual,” you mumbled around his grip, hazy from the kiss but knowing what you stood for, fury evident in your eyes and furrowed brows. he was the enemy. and you were... you. and... and...

you were met with a bitter laugh, your stomach curling into knots at the sound. you hadn’t noticed his free hand tugging at your waistband until it was too late, his hand slipping in and wasting no time running two fingers harshly against your soaking folds. “why are you dripping wet then? a slut and a liar?”

“fuck off,” you mumbled again, a lot quieter this time, face burning hot from embarrassment.

“i’ll fuck off when you stop acting like you want to fuck me.”

his words made you straightened up. “i- i’m not—”

“you’re not acting? mmm,” sukuna let go of your cheeks just enough that he could properly kiss you, tongue forcing it’s way past your lips, “of course you’re not. of course.” he was mocking you and you couldn’t say anything.

a finger pushed into your heat and you bit down on his lip in surprise, although the pain only seemed to spur him on further, a second finger easily shoving its way in next to the first. curling, pushing, rubbing against that sensitive, spongy spot inside of you, sukuna’s fingers had your legs shaking, the knee he still had pressed between them the only thing keeping you up at this rate. the grip on your face as he hummed against your mouth prevented you from avoiding eye contact with him, lips wet as he disregarded any type of mess he was making.

he was everywhere at once and you felt trapped. hot—it was too hot, your body was burning.

“su- ku... n... a,” his name came out garbled between the onslaught of your face being squished together and the sloppy kisses he pressed into you at irregular intervals. when his thumb rubbed against your clit as the two fingers continued to pump in and out, you gripped his shirt so hard you were sure you would rip it this time. “too... mmm,” a kiss that was more tongue than lip cut you off and you weren’t even sure if he heard you as you choked out the next words, “mmm, hah— much, suku—”

at once he released you, almost letting you drop to the floor, but you were able to just barely steady yourself against the wall in time. sukuna stepped back and away from your shaking form. you were gasping, lungs burning.

“w...why did you—”

“i can listen you know.” you could practically feel his eye roll from his dripping tone, even if you weren’t looking at him. “‘too much.’” he laughed as he mocked you. “more like you’re too weak.”

you were thankful he actually seemed to have a brain, but still— “you’re an idiot.” fuck, your lungs hurt, the retort scraping against the walls of them. he was good. it had been a while since anyone had left your head spinning like that.

sukuna flicked a hand dismissively. “‘an idiot’ who’s giving you a chance to breathe, you brat.” he decided to ignore the name for now, thankfully for you (although you didn’t exactly see it that way).

you couldn’t choke out another snarky response and simply focused on clearing your head. he gave you a chance to think and once you seemed clear-minded, he wasted no further time.

“bed.”

you blinked, eyes bleary, peering up at him from where you bent over, trying to catch your breath. “w...what?”

“on the bed. now.” he shoved his hands into his pockets, watching you blankly as you regained your senses. “unless you want me to fuck you on the floor?”

“no...” god, what was with you? or rather... what was with him? the ache in your core answered your question, your cunt feeling so empty now—he hadn’t even bothered to let you cum and you already wanted his fingers stuffed back into you. he was irresistible—you felt stupid even having the thought.

sukuna’s eyes narrowed, close to shoving you to the ground to finish what he started but exercising restraint for your sake. you’d need it. “i’m being nice and giving you a chance to get comfortable on your stupid bed, you idiot. go. now.” he was getting tired of repeating himself.

the last few snarky words and your own desire for him actually had you moving this time, climbing up onto the bed a few steps away and settling uncertainly onto the covers. you went to look up for further instructions but he was already on you, both of you tumbling back onto the mattress as he practically shoved his tongue down your throat, hands pushing up and under your shirt to squeeze your tits.

“take this off.”

you automatically pulled at the hem of the flimsy t-shirt at his command, sukuna giving you just enough room to get it over your head, and then his teeth were on your exposed breasts, marking them up. your fingers threaded through his hair, his head moving under your touch as you watched his mouth work with half-lidded eyes.

you didn’t think you’d be able to change in front of anyone any time soon, already knowing the blossoming colors of bruises would be apparent the next morning. reminder to self: cancel your upcoming shopping trip with nobara; the dressing rooms with her would surely be a disaster if he kept this up.

“who’s are these?” his grip was rough when he cupped your breasts, squeezing.

you immediately knew the answer he was looking for, all too eager to hand it over. “yours. fuck, they’re all yours.” your hands ran through his hair, urging him to continue his onslaught on the previously unmarked skin.

sukuna laughed, thumbing your nipples, giving one of them a light lick that made you squirm. “you’re more obedient than i thought you’d be.” he pinched the buds, rolling them between his fingers as you squeezed your eyes closed, gasping at the pain. “but that’s enough of that.” your eyes snapped open, about to ask him what the fuck he meant by that, but he was already setting to work.

his fingers hooked around your sleeping bottoms and pulled them down with your underwear, the night air cold against your damp lips. you rubbed your thighs together but his hands on your knees forced them apart as he peered down at you. you felt so exposed under his hungry gaze, entirely bare for him to see while he was still dressed. unfair.

“wanna see. don’t close them,” was his short, clipped explanation as he kept your legs spread. one hand on your knee, sukuna brought the fingers of his other to run along your folds again just as he had done before, except this time he could actaully see how you quivered under him, cunt glistening and dripping. he slipped two fingers to run between the folds and then popped them in his mouth, sucking the slick from his fingers and maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. you couldn’t look away.

he hummed, content as he licked the last bit off of the tips. “you don’t taste bad for a slut.”

all the focus was on you, him criticizing everything little thing you did, and you were a mess because of it. not even a chance to run your hands over his chest? unacceptable. you pointedly ignored his comment, pining after some form of a reward instead. “at least take your shirt off. thought you hated those things.” the clothing ratio here was starting to grate on your nerves.

sukuna rolled his eyes but crossed his arms over his chest to grab ahold of the sides of his fitted t-shirt and tug it over his head. you watched, mouth watering at the sight—the moon provided excellent illumination for the scene, his body revealed inch by painstaking inch as he disposed of the fabric. god, he was so hot. you hated it.

muscles on display, sukuna raised an eyebrow at you as though he were asking, happy now? your silent reply came when you reached up to run your hands over the dips of his abs, his chest solid and tattoos curling over the surface.

“that’s better.” you made a show of your gaze tracing over the surface before looking up at him, smiling to yourself. “surprised you didn’t just rip it off.”

sukuna simply scoffed and swatted your hand away, moving from between your legs so he could work off his pants and kick them off to the side.

“knew you’d like to see me take it off properly,” he answered at last, back to you as he wiggled out of his boxers finally and chucked them off the foot of the bed. you didn’t get much time to admire his flexing back muscles before he was on you again, settling between your legs like he knew he belonged there (you weren’t sure you could argue with that point).

he pumped his cock, grabbing one of your legs and pushing it back. precum leaked from his tip, length already fully hard, and sukuna was enjoying your gaze on him maybe a little too much. leg shoved back and in the air, you whimpered when he rubbed the head along you. you didn’t need prep after being fucked by his fingers earlier you supposed and you weren’t sure you’d even be patient enough to sit through him stretching you out any further with anything but his dick.

you wanted to feel it yourself and so you reached a hand out to wrap around the base, captivated by how he watched you as you thumbed the slit, breathing heavy but not saying anything, letting you do what you wanted.

you wanted it in you so badly.

when he opened his mouth in question, eyes flitting up to yours, you were quick to cut him off, already knowing what he was going to ask. “yes, i’m sure.” you didn’t know curses could actually be compassionate, and it was cute when his jaw locked hard at your confirmation and he nodded, shifting his gaze back to your hand.

you released his cock and sukuna set back to lining it up with you, grip on your leg locking the limb in place. you shivered under his hold and he grunted when the head nudged your entrance, slowly pushing in.

“fuck. take it. take it all in. fucking slut.” he sunk fully in in one motion, the pace enough not to have you screaming out at the stretch but making your breath catch in your throat all the same. “yes, just like that. a good bitch, that’s what you are, aren’t you? look at you.”

you didn’t even know what to think at this point, a shaky resemblance to his name tumbling from you, more so a moan than actual talking. you could feel him everywhere—so full, so overwhelmingly full.

shoving your leg back further until it was almost painful, cock bottomed out in you, sukuna snapped his fingers in front of your face. “i asked you a question, brat. or are you already too fucked out of your mind to answer?”

you couldn’t breathe, head heavy, and tried to nod in confirmation as you struggled to puzzle through his words, but then you shook your head to answer no—god, you were confused. what was the right answer? what was happening?

maybe you really were already too fucked out of your mind. you vaguely recalled his words from earlier and were able to form a somewhat coherent response. “a good bitch... yes, i a- wait.” what were you saying? first you let him fuck you and now you’re openly submitting to him? the curse that had nearly cost you and your friends your lives countless times?

pride wouldn’t let you go along with his little game even as your dripping pussy told a different story. “i’m not anything to you.”

sukuna scoffed, hips grinding into you as he leaned over you, hooking both of your legs over his shoulders and pressing them back, close to your head. “and here i thought we were actually starting to get along.” a mirthless laugh left him, both of you eye-to-eye now where you lay.

fire burning in your eyes, you were very much reminded why you hated him so much. a self-obsessed asshole was what he was. “i’m not exactly looking to be friends with the king of curses, you idiot.”

“but look at you now. you wanted this.” he licked a stripe up the side of your neck, pausing at the base of your jaw to grin and press a sweet kiss to the area. you shivered and your hands found his shoulders to grip onto. he wasn’t wrong about the wanting it part—the amount of times you’d fantasized about exactly this was concerning. “i wonder what would happen if your little friends knew about how you really felt. what’s that term you like to use? ‘fraternizing with the enemy?’”

sukuna laughed again when your expression fell, face hot at the reminder of the others. “i suppose this is considered a bit more than mere fraternizing though, hm?” he continued, smiling and kissing your cheek.

whatever. no one would find out anyway. expect... expect maybe... yuuji—what had happened to him anyway for this to happen? knowing him, he’d probably been too tired after the last mission and sukuna had easily switched in—the same mission that seemed to have set sukuna even further along in his fury against jujutsu sorcerers this night.

you weren’t dating yuuji per say (it was... complicated), so your qualms when it came to fucking the curse possessing him were... minimal to say the least. you wouldn’t have done it if you were already taken, couldn’t have done that to yuuji, sweet as he was. but even in spite of all that, sukuna was right... this whole thing was so... no, don’t think about it.

you didn’t care either way (...maybe)—you couldn’t let his words get to you.

“just move already.”

you heard him grumble, annoyed, and he propped himself up to hover above your face. “i was giving you time to adjust. you’re so ungrateful.”

and with that, sukuna snapped his hips into yours without another moment of hesitation and you dug your nails into his back, mouth open in a silent scream because fuck.

“ungrateful fucking brat.”

“more,” your voice was hoarse, focus narrowing in only on the way he was fucking you.

you weren’t sure if it was your words or his own desire that spurred him on, but he set a bruising pace from the start, the places where your hips met hurting every time he rammed back into you. he was marking up your neck, the area already feeling sensitive and oh-so overabused, yet you not wanting to tell him to stop.

sukuna’s hand wrapped around your neck again, the feeling familiar now and you clenched around him at the sensation, him growling when you did so. the slight squeeze of his fingers had you seeing stars, the light-headed feeling going straight to your building arousal.

just like before, his hand traveled up to squeeze your cheeks and he was hovering over your mouth again, lips brushing against your own from the momentum of his thrusts. “let me kiss you again.” sukuna’s eyes were dark, unreadable.

you were quick to act at that, not letting him lean down, but rather craning your neck up to latch onto him, moaning as your mouth fell open for him to push his tongue in. his hand released your face to travel down to tweak at your nipples and grip your breasts again, other hand holding your leg steady against him. “filthy fucking slut.” he forced the words into your mouth, speaking around your lips that kept chasing after him. “fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

sukuna’s attention returned to your neck, leaving you to gasp into the air and missing his warmth against your face. when his thumb found your clit, your breath hitched and you knew you so close to coming undone. the rubbing of his cock against just the right spots inside of you, filling you so wholly was not helping.

“su...kuna, please, i’m gonna—” you were babbling, chest heavy when his teeth sank into your shoulder, stinging. his wet kiss on the area was cooling, the contrast making your head tilt further back, wanting to give him easy access to whatever he wanted.

“i’ve got you.” he was whispering against the wet skin, voice low with his pants, and you shivered, digging your nails into his back even more. “come on, brat, you want to cum for me, don’t you?” yes, you did. the stretch, his hands everywhere at once, his scraping lips—yes, you wanted to let everything go.

“fuck, fuck, fuck.” you let yourself come undone, heat filling your chest. everything was him—that’s all you knew in this state.

“look at you, creaming all over my cock. god, you’re so pretty. pretty little slut.” the words just kept flowing as he fucked you through your orgasm, chasing his own release.

when he finally came, your hole was aching, abused, the sound of skin against skin the only thing you could focus on, mind cloudy. his cum was hot and filling when it spilled into you, your stomach doing summersualts at the feeling. his pace gradually began to slow, the sopping sound of him fucking his cum into you as he rode out his own high the only sound besides your ragged breaths. when he eventually stopped, he was leaning over you, sweaty foreheads pressed together, and he pushed one final bruising kiss to your lips that you gladly returned.

you were panting, chest rising and falling unevenly. “fuck, oh my god.” you reached up pull him back into another kiss, needing something to hold onto. it was an easy kiss, no thought going into its form, just knowing that lips were meant to be on each other and slotted together. his lips were so soft, and his fingers along your side were so soft, and his chest against yours was so soft and you were absolutely lost to everything.

sukuna finally pulled back to let you breath, knowing you were probably stupid enough to just keep pulling him in more and more and ignoring your lung capacity until the very last second unless he stopped you.

chests heaving, you stared at each other and he brought a thumb up to rub at your swollen lips. you flicked your tongue out to lick at the digit playfully and smiled. a laugh bubbled out of you and he returned the grin, his own deep chuckle vibrating through you where you were still pressed against each other.

it was laughing that you moved to push him to roll off of you. “oh my god, i can’t believe we just-” the hand that gripped your wrist, your own hands still planted on his chest, stopped you immediately. his smile had morphed back into one that was anything but sweet.

you were suddenly aware of the ache in your legs where they were still pressed over his shoulders and the dull throbbing of your pussy as it begged for a break, him still not having pulled out—the look on his face told you that you wouldn’t be getting a break from those sensations any time soon.

“who said we’re done?” his teeth glinted in the moonlight and god the line was so cliche and he must’ve known you’d hate it so much. what you hated even more was the throb in your core at his words despite all that. “wanted to cum in you at least once, but your tits-” he paused to squeeze one of them for emphasis, “are looking a little too clean.” body covered in sweat and marks all over your chest from his handiwork made you think clean wasn’t exactly the correct description, although you understood his sentiment.

surprise ridden expression falling away, you rose to meet his challenge, your own grin reflecting back. how would it feel when he came on your stomach, on your face, on your ass—anywhere and everywhere? would it be the same feeling as before when he’d spilled inside of you? (would you get to taste it?)

the thought was horrible, you knew, but the trickle of white out of your hole around his cock and dripping onto the sheets made you think maybe it was okay to be horrible for once.

“do your worst, king.”

[punchdrunkdoc]

Just Breathe - Ch.7

Summary: Six months after the events in Gotham Square Garden, Bruce is struggling to find balance between his role as Batman and his responsibilities as Bruce Wayne. His life is made even more complicated when he learns that someone knows his secret identity.

Notes: This is a multi-chapter, slow-burn Battinson/original female character story with romance, angst, and crime solving!

Also available on AO3

Masterlist

Reference pics and stuff

Bruce stared at the phone in his hand, and wondered if he was making a mistake.

He should just let it go. Ignore the niggling doubts in his head. The questions that were boring holes in his brain…

But he couldn’t. 

He needed answers. He needed to know if his insane theory was just that - insane - or if it was somehow the truth.

He dialled the number.

"Hello?" Gordon's voice was strong - a sign that he was on the mend - and Bruce was relieved to hear it. 

"It's me," he responded, dropping his voice into his 'Batman' register. 

"You have a phone?" Gordon sounded surprised. And a bit annoyed. "All this time we could've just been calling each other, instead of using that signal?"

"This is a one-off. I couldn't get to you any other way."

"Yeah, you're persona non grata at the moment. I'll sort that out when I get discharged - I'll make it clear in my report that you weren't to blame for the botched op. We wouldn't have caught Newsome without you.” He paused. “Is that why you called me?"

"No. Its about Newsome's last victim."

"I heard about that. A mystery 'samaritan' found her and dropped her at the hospital." 

Bruce could hear the scepticism in Gordon's voice. "You don't think it was a samaritan," he deduced. “Are you thinking an accomplice instead?"

"The timing is odd, that's all. The night we take Newsome into custody, someone just happens to stumble across his latest victim? Don't tell me you haven’t considered it."

Bruce had. "Apparently the person who dropped her off was a woman. Female accomplices aren't exactly common and there was nothing in Newsome's house to suggest he had a girlfriend.”

“True,” Gordon said. “But I’ve heard stranger things.”

He hadn’t heard Bruce’s theory. 

“Do you know anything more about her? The samaritan?” Bruce asked.

Gordon sighed in frustration. “No. The ER staff didn’t get a good look at her and all you can see on the CCTV is someone in a baseball cap. The car wasn’t caught on camera, and the nurses were too busy with the semi-conscious women in the passenger seat to take much notice of the make and model. They just said it was blue and ‘looked fast’.”

Shit. 

Bruce scrubbed his face with his free hand. His insane theory had just gotten a lot more plausible.  Beth’s car was blue, and fast...

It was also currently covered in mud, with scratches all along the bodywork. As if she’d been driving in the country through narrow lanes.

He’d noticed the damage to her car last night when he’d dropped by her office. He’d wanted to update her on Newsome’s victim. He could have called her…but the desire to see her won out again. 

He found her clicking through autopsy photos on her computer. She was examining images of a mutilated, partially-flayed body while eating a yoghurt. He marvelled at her ability to compartmentalise. 

“What happened to him?” He asked in greeting. 

She jerked her head up and swore. “I’m gonna put a bell on you!”

He said nothing in response, just stepped closer to view the pictures. It looked like the work of a particularly sadistic killer. “Is this something I need to know about?”

She shook her head and closed down the screen. “Man picked a fight with a train. Train won. What’s up?” She seemed to catch herself. “I mean, did you find Newsome’s captive?” 

“I didn’t, but someone did.” He studied her closely, remembering the damage he’d seen on her car on the way in. 

She smiled. “That’s a relief.”

“I didn’t say they were alive.”

She faltered slightly. “I- I just assumed.”

He took a step closer. “Beth is there something you want to tell me?”

She held his gaze. “No. What do you mean?”

He stared at her. She didn’t sound like she was lying. But how well did he really know her? How good of an actress was she…?

That was the moment his insane, ridiculous theory - that Beth had rescued that girl - took root in his mind. 

But if it was her, why didn’t she tell him that night?  He could have come with her. Helped her.

And if it was her, why lie about it after the fact? She hadn’t done anything wrong by saving that girl.

If it was her…how did she know where to go?

That was the question he most needed answering. 

Gordon was also curious. “If it wasn’t an accomplice, how did they know where to look? The bunker was pretty secluded.”

“Did anyone interrogate Newsome that night?” Bruce asked.

“No, he wasn’t conscious until the morning.”

“Can I speak to the officers guarding his room?”

“Why?”

“Just trying to be thorough.”

“It was Ramirez and Jones. I’ll have them meet you tonight down by the river. Let me know if you find something.”

A few hours later, Bruce listened to the account from the two officers; Jones did most the talking. Ramirez just watched Bruce quietly, her gaze distrusting. 

“Only ones who went in or out the whole night were doctors and nurses,” Jones explained. “They all had ID, and I watched them the entire time. No one talked to him or did nothing funny. Well, except that blond doctor. But she just threw up.”

Bruce frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It was kinda weird at first. She went in to check some surgical thing, then took his pulse. She stood there for a while holding his wrist, I thought she’d zoned out or something…then she ran to the bathroom and spewed her guts out. Said it was morning sickness.”  

On a hunch, Bruce removed the printed photo of Beth from his belt and showed it to the officer. “This her?”

Jones tilted his head and squinted at the photo. “She was wearing a mask. But I think it could be her. Ramirez?”

The woman stepped closer, and peered at the picture. She nodded. “That’s her.”

“Wait,” Jones said, looking worried. “Is she not a doctor?”

“No, she is,” Bruce said, fudging the truth a bit. “I'm just confirming something.” 

The two officers turned to leave, but Bruce stood still, his mind racing to try to fit all the pieces together. 

Beth had been in Newsome’s room that night. 

Then she’d driven straight to his secret bunker and rescued his captive.

But, how? 

How did she get the information out of an unconscious man? When all she did was touch him.

Touch.

He thought back to all the interactions he’d had with Beth…

“Hey,” he shouted to the cops. They stopped and looked back over their shoulders. “Was she wearing gloves? The doctor?”

The two officers glanced at each other in confusion. Jones eventually answered. “No. Just her bare hands.”

Her bare hands. 

Bruce nodded and turned to face the water, an even more insane and ridiculous theory forming.

Beth had never touched him with her bare hands. Even when she was fixing his shoulder, she was careful to only touch the bandages that covered his hands. And he remembered how she’d shied away when he’d tried to touch her cheek the other night. It had been a moment of weakness on his part; she’d just been so brave and selfless, standing there offering her help. He felt like he needed to touch her, to make sure she was real. 

But she had pulled away. At the time he figured she misinterpreted it as him making a pass, and wasn’t interested. That realisation had hurt…but part of him was glad she was able to create the boundaries he was struggling with. 

But what if it was something else? 

Bruce swore under his breath, the quiet curse muffled by the water sloshing against the pier. Was he really considering this?

Was he really thinking that she could…what? Touch someone and find out their secrets?

It was the realm of science fiction. 

It was crazy. 

But it was also the only explanation that fit the facts.

For how a hidden bunker could be found when the only person who knew its location was unconscious. For how someone could know that Detective Harlow had tampered with his wife’s insulin.

And how someone could discover Batman's true identity. 

Newsome, Harlow and Wayne.

Three men with secrets… 

Three secrets uncovered…

And they all had Beth in common. 

Jesus, was it was true?

As ridiculous and insane as it seemed, could it really be true?

 ———

 Bruce sat on the floor of the abandoned train station that formed his base of operations, his back against one of the limestone staircases. His arm rested on his bent knee and he idly cracked his knuckles as he stared at the image on the monitor in front of him.

He’d been staring at it for a while.  

The video was frozen on Beth’s eyes, the only part of her face captured by his lenses as he’d lain on the ground of that damned junkyard. She was bent over him, about to whisper the words that had confused and intrigued him months before.

‘I’m sorry’

Those words had first sparked his curiosity about her. They had made him want to learn more about the woman who’d saved him. Had ultimately led him to Beth. 

And now he knew what those words meant.  

She was sorry… because she knew what was about to happen. 

She knew she was about to steal his secrets.

That was the moment it happened. The only time her bare skin had ever touched his. The moment she had pressed her lips to his, she had gained an insight into him that no one else ever had.

She probably knew him better than Alfred. 

Better than he knew himself. 

So what did she think of him? Did she understand his choices? Or did she see him as a broken man, plagued by a twenty-year old trauma? 

The kindness he’d always seen in her eyes, and the closeness they’d started to share…was it all just pity?

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut and thudded his head against the wall, wishing his thoughts would stop spiralling down this path. He should be angry at her - for lying to him, for sending that damned note about Harlow…but instead he was more concerned with how she felt about him. He was questioning the basis of their entire…relationship. A relationship that he now accepted was real, whether he wanted it to be or not. 

“Are you ever going to get up off that floor and come upstairs? You need to get ready for that fundraiser tonight.”

Bruce chuckled wryly and opened his eyes. Alfred was halfway down the other staircase, staring at him with concern. “We can put the ‘Bruce Wayne rehabilitation tour’ on hold, Alfred. I know who sent that letter. They won’t be going public.”

That much he was reasonably sure of.

Alfred descended the rest of the way. “Who was it?”

Bruce nodded his head at the screen. “Beth Carraway.”

“The doctor? The one who saved you?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know?”

“I worked it out.”

“And why are you so sure she won’t go to the cops, or the press?”

Bruce hesitated. This was an aspect of his nightly activities he’d been keeping from the older man. “Because I know her.”

Alfred leaned against the workstation and crossed his arms. “Know her how?”

Bruce recounted meeting Beth at the ME’s office, getting her help on cases…and visiting her at her apartment.  He left out the weeks of surveillance, not in the mood for Alfred’s disapproval. 

“So you’re…friends with her?” Alfred asked. Bruce didn’t blame him for sounding sceptical. A few months ago, he wouldn’t have believed it himself. 

Bruce sighed. “Something like that. Or maybe there was nothing there at all.” 

“Because she betrayed your trust?” Alfred guessed. 

“She didn’t exactly betray it. Its hard to explain without sounding crazy.”

“Bruce,” Alfred said patiently. “Given that I didn’t send you to the loony bin when you came to me with your plan to fight crime dressed as a giant bat, I think you can trust me.”

Bruce gave Alfred a wry look…then told him everything. About Harlow. About Newsome. And about Beth and her ability. “But it’s impossible, right?” He said when he’d finished. “Things like that just don’t exist in the real world.”

Alfred uncrossed his arms and moved to sit next to Bruce on the cold, concrete floor. He took a deep breath before speaking again. “When I was deployed to Iraq during the first gulf war, there was this guy in my unit, Brenner…” Alfred shook his head and paused, as if lost in a memory. “We were both light role infantry, running ground support for the tanks. He was a quiet guy, pretty unassuming, but seemed like a good soldier to have at your back.”

Bruce listened intently. Alfred never shared much about his time in the Army. As a young boy, Bruce would pester him for stories, desperate to hear about gunfights and tank battles. But now he understood Alfred’s reluctance. War was a trauma, not a source of entertainment. 

“One night,” Alfred continued, “we were part of this big operation with the American armoured divisions. We broke through the western flank of the Iraqi infantry, and cleared two lines of enemy positions. It was close combat engagement - brutal stuff. And Brenner…it was if he could sense where the enemy was. Before the rest of us even knew where to aim, he’d already have fired. He kept us - me - alive that night. And I never questioned it at the time - I was too grateful to him. But looking back, it was like he was seeing through walls, or hearing them think, or something. We were all good soldiers - all highly trained - but he was something else entirely.” He turned to face Bruce. “So, no. I don’t think its impossible. I think there are things out in the world that we just don’t understand, and maybe never will.”

Bruce was silent for a few moments, absorbing the possibilities of the impossible. “But what do I do now? Do I tell her I know? Or do I pretend that there isn’t this massive…disparity…between us. Where I barely know her and she knows everything about me. Every thought. Every secret…”

“How do you know she does? You don’t really know what she can do. Until you do, you’ll never know where you stand with her.”

“So you think I should talk to her?”

“I think…that if she’s the reason you’ve been slightly more human these past few months…then you need to do what you can to keep her in your life.”

 ———

 Bruce waited on his bike opposite Beth’s apartment building, his over-sized jacket zipped up to hide his suit and a hood covering his distinctive cowl. Night was descending, but it was still early enough that the streets were busy with people. He wasn’t used to visiting Beth so early, but once he’d made up his mind to speak to her, the hour had seemed immaterial. 

If only he could be so decisive in what he was actually going to say when he saw her. Despite spending all of last night and most of his waking hours today debating it in his head…he was still at a loss.

He was going to have wing it. 

Just as he was about to dismount and head up to her apartment, Beth’s Camaro grumbled back into view from the underground lot. He’d seen her arrive home from work less than 15 minutes ago…and now she was leaving again.

The break in her usual routine concerned him.

Or maybe he didn’t know her routine as well as he thought. 

He kickstarted the engine and pulled into traffic behind her, the electric blue car easy to keep an eye on.

Where was she headed?

And why? 

What was she up to now?

He sighed in frustration at the direction of his thoughts. He hated doubting her. Hated thinking the worst of her. 

He wanted to go back to the time when she was his touchstone. The spark of light in his darkness. 

But that probably wasn’t fair to her. He’d basically put her on a pedestal - moulded her in his mind into some paragon of virtue and kindness. The antithesis to the corruption and bile he dealt with on the streets.

It was a naive, unrealistic portrayal. She was a woman with flaws and secrets like anyone. 

And strangely, as much as they frustrated him, those flaws and secrets somehow made her seem more…attainable. More on his level now…

Which really didn’t help with his attempts to maintain distance from her. 

He growled under his breath. He needed to talk to her. Tonight. He needed to sort out all these feelings. The mistrust, the confusion. The urge to be near her…and the desire to stay away.

So he followed her, through the rush hour congestion of downtown Gotham, then west, out of the city. He followed her past suburbs and deeper into the country, where civilisation eroded into sparsely populated farmland. 

As the traffic dwindled to nothing, it became harder to hide the fact that he was tailing her; she must have seen the solitary light of his bike following for miles. But if she was concerned, it didn’t show. She drove at a steady pace, a constant five miles above the speed limit and made no attempt to lose him. 

An hour after leaving her apartment, she pulled off the main road and into a rest stop - if it could be called that; it was little more than a dirt covered break in the fields of corn lining the road. She turned off her engine, and her car went dark. He coasted to a stop behind her and shut off his bike, but kept his headlight on. There wasn’t a streetlamp in sight and the night had darkened to pitch black during their journey. 

“Beth?” He called. He didn’t need to shout. The air was silent apart from the gentle rustle of corn husks in the breeze.  

She got out of the car to face him, and sighed. “I thought it was you.”

That made him angry. “But you weren’t sure? Then why the hell did you pull over in the middle of fucking nowhere?”  Why was she always putting herself in dangerous situations? Did she have no fear? Or just no sense? Beth, of all people, should be aware of how precarious this world was… 

“I was, like, 98% sure it was you. Satisfied?” She sounded angry too. “And for your information, we’re not in the ‘middle of fucking nowhere’.” She turned and walked to the front of her car. 

He kicked out the stand for his bike and dismounted, following her yet again. “So where are we?” 

She clambered on to the hood of her car and stretched out along its length, her head resting on the windshield. “We’re in my ‘spot’.

“Your spot?”

“Yes. The place I come to think. And see the stars.” She pointed to the vast sky above them. “Look up.”

He flipped his hood down and craned his neck back as far as the stiff leather cowl would allow. Millions of pinpricks of light peppered the darkness, and the hazy glowing cloud of the milky way arched across the sky.

It was incredible. 

He’d rarely left the light-polluted confines of Gotham, so he’d never seen anything like it. The scope of the cosmos laid out before him was humbling. It made him feel…insignificant. As if all his problems and traumas, all the pain he’d experienced in his life, all the loss he’d ever felt, ultimately meant nothing in the grand scheme of the universe. He was just a speck, briefly inhabiting a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam. 

It was a surprisingly comforting thought.

He wanted to join her on the car. Lie back and bask in the temporary insignificance of his life. To take a break for once and rest a while. 

Forget who he was, and ignore the world beyond this moment.  

The urge was overwhelming. 

And tonight…he was too weak to resist. 

But he needed to get something out of the way first.  

The drive to this secluded spot had given him plenty of time to come up with a plan - and several back ups - to prise the truth out of Beth. Subtle hints, cajoling, outright questions…it was all on the table. He’d even thought about trying to force the issue by grabbing her bare hand and shouting at her with his mind…

But he was tired, and he was sick of this uncertainty between them. He wanted things to go back to how they were before. So he threw all his plans aside and acted on instinct.

He wrenched the cowl from his head and turned to faced her.

 ———

 Beth gasped. “What the hell are you doing?”

Bruce Wayne stood in front of her. 

He wasn’t Batman in this moment - the grey jacket covered his armoured suit; his hands were bare apart from the bandages wrapped around them…and he’d just removed his mask. 

All the trappings of the ‘Bat’ were either gone or hidden. 

Leaving the man behind.

His dark hair was mussed and damp from sweat, and the greasepaint around his eyes was smeared.  He looked younger than the photographs of the suited and styled billionaire…and so much more vulnerable. 

But he didn’t look uncertain. He didn’t look fearful of her reaction to his reveal, or worried…

He knew, she realised with a shock.

He knew…that she knew his identity.

“How?” she whispered. “How did you find out?”

He laughed softly. It was the first time she’d heard the sound from him. It was as if removing his mask had unlocked some of his humanity. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

She frowned at him in confusion as he boosted himself onto the car to lie beside her. He tilted his head back - further than he was able to do before - and took in the scene above them. 

It was an awesome sight.

The first gift she could ever remember receiving was from her social worker on the day they’d chosen to be her birthday. It was an astronomy book - no more than a child’s introduction to the cosmos - but she read it cover to cover, over and over, and it sparked her fascination with the celestial world. 

Gotham was a convenient place to live for someone like her - lots of crime to keep her busy at work, and lots of chilly weather to excuse the gloves and long sleeves she wore to cover her skin - but she couldn’t see the stars in Gotham. 

So whenever she needed to think or brood, she would drive out to this deserted spot and find them. 

Ironically, the reason for tonight’s trip to the stars…had followed her here.  

She hated lying to him. Well, she hated lying in general, but it was a necessary part of living her life. She barely noticed anymore the excuses she gave people at work for not wanting to get drinks, or for why she jumped when they came near her exposed skin.  

But lying to him was different. 

It didn’t feel right. 

And in the last few days, she’d lied a lot. About going to see Newsome. About finding that girl. And beyond the last few days, there were the lies about Harlow, her abilities…and the fact that she knew who he really was.

She wanted to come clean. Tell him everything. Put all her cards on the table and see if he ran screaming.  

It was a terrifying proposition. 

So she’d come to her spot to contemplate it. 

And it turned out he already knew. Or at, least, he already knew one of the secrets she was keeping. 

“So?” she prompted him, when it looked like he was just going to spend the night relaxing on her car. “How did you know? And what exactly do you know?”

He faced her. “I know that you already know my real name. And I know its because of this.” He reached for her bare hand with his. 

She pulled it away before he could make contact. Then she shook her head. “What do you mean?” She wasn’t denying anything. She just didn’t want any misunderstandings between them. If they were getting the truth out there, it had to be the whole truth and nothing but the truth. 

He sighed. “You want me to say the words out loud, don’t you?” 

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “You can discover people’s secrets by touching them.”

She gaped at him. “How…?”

He shrugged. “I figured it out.”

Her gaping continued. “You ‘figured it out’?”

No one had ever figured it out! She’d been working with people for years who had no idea. She’d lived with people in foster homes who’d never caught on. But within months, this man had discovered her deepest secret. 

“So how does it work, exactly? What can you see when you touch people? Is it just secrets, or is it thoughts too?” His questions ran together, his voice almost…excited. She wondered whether it was due to the subject matter, or if this was just him without the mask. 

She’d once thought Batman was the real version of this man, and Bruce Wayne was an act. But it appeared there was some artifice to the Bat persona as well. This felt like the real Bruce. More serious and haunted than the Billionaire Bruce the public got to see. But not as still and reserved as the Bat. 

This was the real man that few people would ever get to meet. And she felt…honoured that she was trusted to be one of them. 

It made answering his barrage of questions easier, even though it felt weird discussing her ability. She’d never talked to another living soul about what she could do. “It- it depends,” she started. “If I brush against someone quickly, I usually just pick up the thoughts flowing through their head at that moment. But longer contact reveals memories, buried thoughts. And secrets, like you said.”

“So what did you see when you touched me?” He asked. “Apart from this,” he gestured to his face.

She bit her lip. “Well, you were dying at the time. Your life was flashing before your eyes, so I saw…that.” The last word was whispered, a combination of nerves and guilt making her voice hesitant. 

He frowned. “Wait, so you saw everything? My whole life?” 

He sounded upset. She tried to reassure him. “I saw a lot, but it won’t have been your whole life. It’s just that-,” she stopped and bit her lip again. 

“What? What were you going to say?”

She squirmed, feeling embarrassed. “Lips are…sensitive. To touch in general, but also to my…ability.”

He cleared this throat and looked away. She was glad she wasn’t the only one feeling awkward. Yes, it had been mouth-to-mouth, and yes he was dying at the time…but their lips had touched. Repeatedly. Which was the technical definition of a ‘kiss’…

Luckily, he found a way to change the subject. “And what about Detective Harlow?”

She told him the whole story. About ‘reading’ Harlow, writing the letter, then about Newsome and driving north to rescue his last captive. 

But he’d figured all that out too. 

He really did know everything. 

“That was reckless,” he said, when she mentioned Newsome. “You should have told me what you were planning.”

“There was no danger. He was unconscious.”

“You still should have told me. About all of this.”

That annoyed her. “So I was supposed to just spill all my deepest and darkest secrets to a guy I’d just met? What about you? If I hadn’t found out you were Bruce Wayne, would you ever have told me?”

He pressed his lips into a thin line and looked away. Eventually he shook his head. “No. I don’t think I would have. But…”

“But, what?”

He met her gaze, and held it for a few moments; she felt like he was looking into her soul. “But I’m not sorry that you know.”

She gave him a tentative smile. “I’m sorry about how I found out. I didn’t want to pry into your mind like that…but I’m glad I know too.”

He met her smile with a small one of his own - another first. That small hint of emotion made him seem so…human. Which was ridiculous. Of course, he was human. 

But he was also so different from anyone else she’d ever met. She had so many questions she wanted to ask him - now that she could. About why he’d chosen this life. What his plan was for the future. If he was ever lonely…

But they’d taken a big step tonight. They’d bonded over their shared secrets, and she felt like they’d become true friends. It was enough for now - her curiosity could wait.  

She relaxed back down against the windshield and faced the sky. She felt him do the same next to her. 

A long time passed, as they stared at the stars, the silence comfortable. Her right arm was down by her side, the material of her coat brushing against his jacket…but she didn’t feel the urge to move it away just in case they touched. 

He was the only person on earth she felt that safe with. 

“Thank you,” he eventually whispered. “For showing me this.”

“Well, technically, you gatecrashed,” she teased. “But you’re welcome. It’s amazing isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

She murmured one of her favourite quotes under her breath - the enormity of the view from this spot always brought it to mind. 

“What was that?”

She glanced over to find him looking at her. They were so close, their faces just inches apart. She spoke softly into the intimate space between them. “It's a Carl Sagan quote that always feels appropriate here: ‘For small creatures such as we, the vastness is bearable only through love.’” 

“My- my Dad had a print of the ‘pale blue dot’ quote in his office. I always liked that one. ‘Every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there — on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.’”

She got the feeling he didn’t talk about his parents much - but probably thought about their deaths often. She was glad that she could remind him of a happier memory.

He continued, now staring back at the sky. “I was thinking of that earlier. About how we’re all just insignificant specks of dirt in the universe.”

She frowned at him. “That’s a pretty pessimistic way of looking at it.”

“No. Its comforting. Our problems don’t amount to much in the great scheme of things.”

“I always thought it was more awe-inspiring than that,” she argued. “In all the vast, enormous cosmos, we may be the only planet that had the right set of circumstances to foster life. That makes us incredibly lucky, so we shouldn’t waste our time here. We should love our fellow man because we’re all each other has - there’s no one else out there.”

“The vastness is bearable only through love.” He repeated her words back to her.

“Exactly.” She smiled at his profile, but she could see a slight frown on his face, as if the concept of love worried him somehow. 

She was struck with the sudden need to smooth that frown away. To sweep back the lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. To take his hand and squeeze it…

It was an alien desire - she never voluntarily wanted to touch someone. 

She settled for resting her hand lightly on his covered wrist where it lay next to hers. 

He didn't say anything, or even look at her, but she could see the frown disappear and the corners of his mouth turn up...just a little.  

-----

CHAPTER 8

Taglist: @hollandorks @grunge-n-roses5 @xmxrfx @neptunesands @caramelcandescence  @blossomedfloweroflove @wanderdreamer @angelsarecallin @stephenismyking​ @rabbitdictionary @starshipvelociraptor​​

[sugarnspicefics]

Recovery

Dad Bod Fatgum x Reader | NSFW | BNHA

Summary: Sweet, sweet lovin'. Our favourite BMI hero takes time out of his recovery to indulge in his needs.

Warnings: Smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, adult language, praise kink.

Authors Note: The first one got flagged by Tumblr, I guess they couldn't handle the spice. Feedback is appreciated. I would love to hear what you think and what other characters you'd like me to write for.

Playing with Toyomitsu's hair, his face is cushioned between your breasts. He's battered and bruised from his latest battle.

It was a battle that has left one pro hero in critical condition and the other three badly injured. Toyomitsu being one of the three.

You remember how everyone in your office huddled around the break room's shitty tv to watch the fight. Bets being tossed around. All fun and games for the first 20 minutes.

Your heart drops and your stomach twists. Your coworkers watch their beloved heroes being beaten but you were watching the man you love.

Recovery has been slow but like always his appetite needed no time to recover. You love Toyomitsu and his many forms but if you had to be honest when his body is fuller with a soft stomach this. That Toyomitsu is your favourite.

That Toyomitsu is a man that can provide for you, love you with such kindness that makes your teeth rot and a hunger that has you begging like a whore.

Toyomitsu Snapping from your thoughts he pulls you in tighter. His hand resting on your stomach works its way down to the elastic waistband of your panties.

"Taishi." You warn.

A laugh that will lead to nothing good rumbles from the depths of his chest. Your protests die short on your lips as he presses the pads of his fingers against your clit. Earning a shallow gasp.

You spread your legs for him, just like that. Toyomitsu doesn't need a better invitation.

He stocks your cunt. Coating his fingers with your slick. Toyomistu slides a thick finger into your heat. He teases you with slow movements before adding another, going in knuckle deep.

Your walls quiver around his fingers. Bucking your hips against his digits, bottom lip quivering. "That's is fuck yourself with my fingers."

The sight of you fucking yourself with his thick fingers. Using him. It drives him crazy.

He can feel himself growing harder, his cock aching for you. Toyomistu crashes his lips into yours, swallowing your lusty whimpers.

He needs to take his time. He's large, and that you need to be well and truly dripping before he can stuff you with his cock.

He brushes a callused thumb over your clit. You come with a cry, gushing around his fingers.

The smile on his lips sends a shiver down your spine. He presses his slick covered fingers against his lips. You can't stop the moan from passing your lips as you watch him sucks you off his fingers.

"You're the sweetest thing I have ever tasted." He purrs

A blush stains your already flushed cheeks red. Rolling away, your hide your face. You thought you would be used to his sweet yet cheeky remakes by now. Yet his words still activate a swarm of butterflies.

He presses kisses to your shoulder, trailing them down your back. Goosebumps rise onto your sensitive skin. His large hands work your drenched panties down your legs. You hum with anticipation. His boxers gone and likely disowned to the floor along with your panties.

Without any warning, Toyomitsu pulls you up on all fours. His hard cock between the plushness of your ass cheeks.

Sinking his cock into you. Your cunt swallows every inch of him. "Just a little bit more, baby, you can take it."

The delightful ache of him stretching out your pretty cunt has you gripping the sheets.

Slowly he starts to move. Blunt nails dig into the sensitive skin at your hips. Pulling lustful gasps from you with every stroke.

His lips brush against your ear, "that's my good girl." You nuzzle the sheets, pushing your ass higher. His voice drops with ginger, "you take my cock so well."

He's taking his time, and you are putty beneath him. His cock large and veiny. He's teasing you, deliberately missing the spot that you need him to reach the most. Yet you can feel your orgasm approaching. Are you about to cum Purley from this man's dick?

Just as you were about to be lost in a sea of pleasure, he pulls out.

You whine out his name like a bitch in heat. Shaking your ass, hoping to entice him back into your heat.

Toyomitsu's large hands cover your smaller ones. "Such a needy girl." He trails of kisses down your spine. In a fluid thrust, he's back inside.

His rhythm is rough and fast. Lewd and wet noises complement the headboard as it bangs against the wall.

His grip on your wrists tightens as he whispers his desires. Fucking you with a wanting of a man that couldn't fuck for three weeks, and you are taking it like the good little whore you are.

You lose control of your body as Toyomitsu massages the swell of your clit. A scream falls from your lips as your orgasm blooms.

Your legs give out under the weight of your orgasm. Toyomitsu follows with one last thrust.

He crushes you as his own body filters under the weight of his orgasm. Toyomitsu rolls onto his back, keeping you in his arms.

"I might have..." He wheezes out.

"You might have overdone it?" You giggle.

Toyomitsu nods in agreement, "this is why they say not to have sex with fractured ribs."

[kiatheinsomniac]

Hello! I wanted to request an idea I got earlier for Assassin's Creed. You can make the drabble as long as you'd like, as well as choose the Assassin.

I was thinking of a sort of masquerade ball. The Assassin is there to gather some information about the next target until he spots Reader (who is a Templar at the beginning, but later on helps the Brotherhood when one of the higher-ups betray them). Dancing and passive aggressiveness ensues.

notes: Simply because of my idea for a Phantom of the Opera AU a while back, I had to go for Arno with this one!

pairing: Arno Dorian x Templar! Reader

word count: 1.3k

☾ ⋆ﾟ  MASTERLIST / RULES / TAGLIST FORM

Masquerade

You reluctantly set your glass of wine down as a gentleman in a blue frock coat approached you, his hand extended in an offering for you to join him on the dance floor. He wore a white and gold mask that glittered slightly in the light of the chandelier and was dressed in the latest high fashion. Some young aristocrat on his father’s money, you assumed. Your dress had been paid for by the Order, of course – quite generously, you had noted when it was delivered to your home by the tailor. It was a bright red, the dye expensive in itself, let alone the silken fabric. It filled you with a sense of pride to be dressed in the colour of the cross that symbolised the cause you fought for. 

“Bonsoir, monsieur.” You dipped your head as you offered him your hand, covered in red lace gloves, to press a kiss to your knuckles just above your rings. 

"Enchanté, mademoiselle.” He threw back, eyes oh so slowly raking from your hand up to your eyes. You allowed him to lead you into a new dance as the orchestra started up, all strings and harpsichord. Taking a bow, the two of you approached one another and began a slow spin around each other, one hand each entwining, forearms pressed against each other. That was when you felt the gauntlet beneath the lace-cuffed sleeves of his coat. The giveaway of any Assassin that had foregone their beaked hood: a hidden blade. The dance called for him to pull you closer to himself, a hand on your lower back as you both followed the courtly steps in time to the music. You could no longer hide the scowl on your face that was not covered by the red and white mask over your eyes. 

The Assassin’s head dipped so that his lips brushed against your ear when he spoke: 2It would be in your best interest to keep out of my way. The less deaths, the easier this will be for both of us.” He warned. He had taken your hand, not as a greeting, but to get a closer look at your Templar ring, it would seem. 

“And it would be in your best interest to leave now, Assassin.” You bit back, acid in your hushed voice as he dipped you back and you set a hand on the back of his neck to help balance the both of you out before he raised you back upright again. “You will not catch your target tonight, I’m afraid.” 

“And are you going to stop me?” You could hear the smile in his tone and it only served to insult you. 

“I am here for no other reason.” Your hand entwined again as he spun you away and then back into his body, feeling his chest pressed to your back for a mere moment and then he released you again. He could have killed you there, left you stumbling for a few moments before you fell upon the dancefloor, giving him more than enough time to slip away. 

Yet he didn’t. 

“What are you playing at, Assassin?” You hissed as the dance began tumbling towards its end. 

“Why, ma chère, I’m only playing your game.” He threw back with a smile and you scowled. 

What was that supposed to mean? 

The dance came to a halt and the two of you bowed before the second dance could begin. Turning around, you looked for the nearest lone woman, finding a blonde with beautifully coiled hair, like that of a porcelain doll, in a pale pink satin dress. You took her by the hand and practically swung her in the Assassin’s direction, flashing her a friendly smile and wink before streaming out of the room, leaving the dance hall and beginning to jog down to corridors to the study where your higher-up was holding his meeting. You stormed into the room, only to find it empty. 

Had he caught wind of the Assassin and left with his associates? But you were a Templar too, surely they would have taken you along with… 

Betrayal wrenched in your chest as tears stung in your eyes. You risk your life day in and day out to fight for the Order’s cause and this is how they repay you? The Assassin had been right, a game was being played here and you were the sacrificial pawn, it would seem. 

Your head spun around when the door behind you opened, finding the Assassin in blue standing on the threshold. 

“Where is he?!” He demanded. 

“How should I know?” You scowled, fighting the urge to trash the whole office out of pure spite, “It seems like he was never even here.” 

“Don’t play games with me, Templ–”

“We’re the ones that have been played, fool!” You exclaimed, “They’ve set all this up for you to kill me so that they can cover their own asses.” Your fingers itched to break something, to swipe everything off the desk, to shatter the mirror on the wall, to throw the chair across the room. 

“Why would they want to get rid of you?” He asked. 

“I don’t know.” You huffed out, “I don’t have the money to give me some power, I’m just the one who runs around killing for them or delivering letters. I guess they thought I could be replaced.” Your jaw clenched tight and you snatched up a bust statue from the desk, firing it towards the mirror with a loud shatter. You looked back over to the Assassin, catching movement in your peripheral to see that he had now raised up his gauntlet. “Calm down, I’m not aiming anything at you.” He reluctantly lowered his arm. 

“Feel better?” 

“No.” You fell down into the plush chair behind the desk, “I don’t know what I’m going to do. If you don’t kill me, they’ll see me as some loose end and take me out themselves. I can’t just go home because they know where I live.” 

“Any family?”

“Why would I tell an Assassin that?” 

“Perhaps because this doesn’t have to be an end for you.” He suggested and you narrowed your eyes in suspicion, a gesture for him to elaborate, “I’m going to guess that there’s some contempt between you and the Templars now, that you need a source of income, a new place to stay?” 

“I’m not joining your little band of anarchists, thank you.” he shook his head at your words. 

“Ignorance aside, you need some help, that much you can’t deny. Maybe, you can even come to see things in a different light with time. I run a business on the side and could do with some more workers. You know how to make coffee?” 

“Nope.” You replied, leaning back in the chair. You didn’t trust him. Then again, why would he draw things out when he could have shot you moments ago? 

“Quick learner?”

“Always have been.”

“Then you have a job. Come to the Île de la Cité in the morning, you’ll be greeted by my manager Charlotte who will set up everything you need.” 

“Why are you doing this? I’m a Templar, aren’t you supposed to see me as some oppressive power that you’re indoctrinated to hate?” 

“Because I was raised by Templars, I don’t see you as some malevolent beings, you’re just people, multi-faceted.” He paused, “And I know what it’s like to be set up to take someone else’s fall, to suffer for it, and I’ll spare another person the suffering that I endured if I can.” That genuinely made you pause to think. Worst case scenario, he was luring you into some trap to be bled for information but you would gladly give up anything about the organisation that had just stabbed you in the back. 

“Tell Charlotte to expect a Y/n L/n then.” You offered your name as a sign of trust. 

“Arno Dorian.” He replied with a slight bow, “I look forward to seeing you around my café, Y/n.” He left the room and you looked at the shattered shard of mirror upon the ground, hot tears pooling in your eyes at the sting of betrayal. 

But you were spiteful and if you had to become the very thing you hated, an Assassin, to get your revenge then so be it.

☾ ⋆ﾟ Buy me a coffee?

🏷️@gojohater101 @daddyadler @writing-noah @havatnah

[shorkbrian]

Creep

Prelude - bitch hold on what about mean brother Shigs being an absolute creep? Inspired by me playing a boss in AC Odyssey and my controller vibrated so hard I almost dropped it, and I couldn’t beat this dude and it was so freaking frustrating!!!!!! 

Pairing - Shigaraki X Reader

Warnings - - INCEST, NSFW, innocence kink, do not read if those squick you out bro!!! Seriously! abuse of trust, dubcon, noncon, literally nothing about this situation is good, or healthy, or nice. Disgusting behavior is exhibited by Shigs.

Music - (does anyone actually like when I provide music? I like getting music vibes while I read through fics but ik that my music taste is a bit wacky lol anyways). https://open.spotify.com/track/0ODyahnUlK9G5bT4dA5NCI?si=10R9ggoJS1inYidrMeWrHA

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He offers to let you play his Xbox game, you keep annoying him by pouting for his attention and he gives up with trying to ignore you.

Stipulation - you gotta sit on his lap while you play, you’re such a stupid little girl that he forces his hands over yours, showing you how to use the Xbox controller while sneering at how dumb you are.

You’re too focused on the game to pay attention to how one of his hands has dropped from the controller, is creeping up your thigh, thumbing at the hem of your shorts. You don't realize that he’s plastered against your back, breath picking up in your ear as he hunches over your shoulder, thinking of all the dirty things he wants to do to you, how you’re too absent-minded to realize how much of a perverted creep he is. 

“Shit!” You curse, breaking Shigaraki out of his thoughts as you bounce your leg in frustration. He feels the slight vibration of the controller - you’re getting attacked in the game, enemies surrounding you and hacking at your player. Shigaraki is too entranced by how he can watch your jiggling breasts over your shoulder, jostling around as you jerk your arms, trying to not die in the game.

“Nii-san help me, ‘m gonna die!” You shriek, whole body getting into the gaming experience, jerking around in his lap as you struggle to press the right buttons. Shigaraki tries not to groan - he can feel the space between your thighs as you move around, hot and doughy and he wants to touch so bad.

Yeah, he’s always been a bit of a creep, but he’s never actually done anything to you.

The most he does is fantasize, thinking about how you’d feel clamping down on him, how’d you’d taste if he made you ride his face. What you’d look like if he forced his cock into you with barely any prep - you’d squeeze your eyes shut so tight, let out little whimpers and clench your fists because “Hurts, hurts! Go slow Nii-san, don’t want this!”

But he wouldn’t have to listen, you’re just a naive little girl who doesn’t know that Shigaraki would be trying to make you feel good too, that it would feel good soon.

“Stop wiggling, you’re gonna fall off.” He rasps back at you, taking his other hand off the controller to grab your waist, barely saving you from keeling over and onto the floor. You’re left to fend for yourself now, button-mashing, groaning when you finally succumb to your enemies and die a violent, gory death.

“I died! Why didn’t you help, you’re right here?!” the accusatory tone of your voice is ignored as you revert to the last save, huffing in frustration as you’re forced to start over.

“You’re never gonna learn if I’m holding your hands like that.”

Shigaraki’s glad you’ve stilled again - if you’d kept up your wiggling, he’d have to figure out a way to explain what the hard thing poking into the side of your plush little rear.

God, you had the most perfect ass.

Maybe he’s a freak, a disgusting man with fucked up morals, but Shigaraki’s always been a social outcast, seen as weird and wrong and criticized for every little thing he did.

What’s wrong with settling into the role other people were so quick to offer him?

Surely you’ve noticed his odd behavior by now, the behavior that’s picked up in the last few years. How he stares at you a little more than he should, how sometimes he slips into bed with you, murmuring some lame excuse about not being able to sleep.

The way he freezes when you give him an affectionate hug, clenching his fists by his side as your breasts are squished up against his body.

You had to have caught on to his uncharacteristic softness with you. He’s still mean and coarse and rude, but there's an underlying affection underneath the way he mocks your outfits, when he says you look like the gross character out of a manga he’s reading, how he tugs on your hair sometimes when he passes by you, wheezing out a laugh if you turn around and try to slap at him in irritation.

If you didn’t want him to be weird, you could’ve said something by now. You should’ve said something by now.

So really, it’s your own fault that he feels so comfortable being a sicko.

“Don’t tickle, I gotta focus.” You tell him, squirming away when he runs a hand experimentally over your stomach. You’re so cute, and dumb, he wants to bully you until you’re crying, say mean things and hurt your feelings only so he can kiss it better. 

But he doesn’t, because he’s a good brother.

His hand travels further up, rests right underneath your breast, almost cupping it. Still, you don’t say anything, attention on the game.

Do you want this? Are you just stupid? His affection is so obviously not normal for siblings, and yet you act like it’s fine. Maybe you’re a virgin, untainted with the knowledge of how sexual touches feel like.

The hand on your waist begins to slip under your shorts, his cold fingers quickly warmed by your skin. “Nii-san, stop that, it’s weird.”

Ah, there’s the common sense.

“I though you wanted to play the game? Don’t be a bitch.” He doesn’t really care whether you want him willingly now or not, he’s getting excited by the heat of your body, your weight on his lap.

You pause the game when his hand creeps lower into your shorts, when his fingers skim low over your tummy, too close to a private place that brothers shouldn't touch.

“Stop touching me, I don’t like that.”

“It’s not like you wouldn’t enjoy it.” He mumbles, and you stiffen in his lap, but he quickly takes his hand out of your shorts, stops cupping your soft breast.

The game gets unpaused, and you resume playing, although your attention is divided now, nervous about sitting in your brother’s lap.

Has it finally clicked? Are you thinking about what he could do to you, how he could make you feel?

“You suck at this.” Shigaraki observes, the controller shaking almost violently as you’re attacked again, overwhelmed by enemies.

“Well, maybe if you taught me how to play instead of being weird, I wouldn’t be.” You snarked, frustrated with the game, uneasy with your brother holding your hips like that.

Shigaraki rolls his eyes. You’re so dramatic, and although you have a valid point, he’s always been weird. This is nothing new, you’ve just been too thick-skulled to realize it before, which isn’t his fault.

A few more tries, and you still can’t get past the one group of enemies, dying after a few minutes every single time. You’re going to waste the batteries like that, controller jumping in your hands. 

“I can’t-” You whine, coming across the enemies after your latest death, already knowing what’s going to happen.

Shigaraki stays silent, red eyes finally flickering away from your body and up to the screen of the TV. 

You’re at one of the hardest parts of the game, facing a section that took Shigaraki two days to beat (not that he’ll tell you that). He grins as you throw yourself into the fight, immediately getting decked.

The noises you’re letting out are cute, frustrated groans on each hit landed on your player, muttered curses and triumphant scoffs whenever you manage to strike an enemy, which isn’t often.

The controller’s still shaking like crazy, and you’re moving around in his lap again, and Shigaraki is done. He can’t take this anymore, you’re being a tease.

He snatches the Xbox controller out of your hands, ignoring your little “Hey! What’re you doing, I was playing!”

“You call this playing?” The shuddering of the controller surprises him, gives him an idea.

There hadn’t been a plan, he had just been acting on instinct, hands itching to push you off his lap and to the floor, just to see the way you’d look up at him after. 

Like that, you’d be in the perfect position to suck his cock.

But he wants to go in a different direction now.

“Stay still, you’re so annoying.” He’s spreading his legs out, sinking back further in his chair to get a better angle, your legs hooked over his.

There’s no time for you to protest. Like this, you’re spread out nicely, exposed, even though your shorts cover your intimate place.

Without any further preamble, Shigaraki shoves the vibrating controller up against your clothed cunt.

“NIi-san!” You shriek, immediately writhing in his hold. But Shigaraki has an arm locked around your chest, keeping you pinned to his chest. “Don’t, think sins’t-this isn't-! Stop this, stop! Don’t touch me!”

He can bet it feels good, that you’re struggling to tell him to stop. He begins rubbing the controller against you, snickering at the way you jolt and writher on each pass of the hard, curved plastic against your protected clit. He can’t even imagine how good it would feel if your stupid shorts weren’t in the way.

“Stop, stop! Stop it! Stop!” You sound like a broken record.

“Shut up, you can’t even play the game right. Feel that?” the controller gets rubbed harder against you, and you writhe. “That’s how bad you are. So pathetic, can’t even fend off a couple of bad guys.”

Can’t even fend off one, Shigaraki thinks to himself. You could be trying harder to get out of his hold, could be screaming and yelling and scratching and kicking.

Well, you are scratching and kicking, moving around so much that he’s having a hard time keeping you still. And you making a lot of noise, but there’s no one else home.

He’s fully hard, and every movement you make struggling rubs him right up against the meat of your ass, and he sucks in a stuttered breath, biting his lip.

“No, no, no, no, don’t want this Nii-san, stop it-” Your panicked pleas are ignored, Shigaraki shoving your hands away as you try to pull the controller off of your cunt, get the vibrations to stop.

On screen, the player is still getting attacked, each new hit making the controller vibrate even harder.

“Ow, ow! It hurts, make it stop! Nii-san-”

“I’ll gag you if you don’t stop complaining.” Shigaraki seethes, feeling irritation creep up. “It hurts because you’ve never felt this good before, idiot.”

He remembers the first time he’d used something on his dick. It was your toothbrush, unsurprisingly, the one that vibrated with three different speeds and made you so proud of your pearly whites.

It had been so overwhelming, he couldn’t even touch the back of the head to his cock. At times, it felt so good it had hurt, had completely blinded his senses and leave him in a puddle of his own cum and sweat, panting.

So Shigaraki understood what you were trying to say - your inexperienced body needed him to slow down, ease up a little. But your gross, nasty brother wanted to ruin you.

Your character on screen died, resulting in one last heavy vibration that made you sob, thighs struggling to snap shut, hands desperately pushing at Shigaraki.

He felt you convulse in his grip, could practically feel the way your little hole was clenching as you gushed all over yourself, whining and moaning at the pleasure.

Your character was sent back to the last save, the game on a loading screen.

But Shigaraki wasn’t done.

He was still hard against your back, rubbing himself off as best he could, but he was finding his own pleasure in watching you writhe on his lap.

The controller was tossed to the side, nimble fingers sliding over your shorts, Shigaraki laughing at what he found.

“You’re so wet, holy fuck. That’s disgusting, wow.” You were drenched, the fabric of your shorts completely soaked with your juices. You only sobbed out a pitiful noise, maybe trying to deny it, but Shigaraki wasn’t listening. He was too busy rubbing over the wet spot, gleefully feeling you up. It was easy for his fingers to find a comfortable, mind-numbing rhythm, so used to playing games and deftly pushing buttons, using sticks and joysticks, directional pads and the like.

You were rocking against his hand unconcsiously, body unable and unwilling to decided whether to pull away or push closer - you had just cum, but that didn’t negate the vicious, heady sensation that his fingers brought.

Shigaraki quickly grew bored of this though, unable to ignore his dripping erection. He had never been a patient man, quickly removing the hand stimulating your swollen pussy so he could pull his cock out of his sweatpants.

With a quick movement, your shorts were tugged down, your brother completely pushing past your refusal to lift your hips, burning your skin with how forcefully the fabric was ripped down.

“Nii-san, what are you doing-you can’t, you can’t!” You cried, renewing your struggle when you felt skin against skin, his cock hot and velvety as it rested against your cheeks. “I don’t wanna do this, don’t make me do this-”

“I don’t care. I’ve tried to be good, and it’s like you don’t even care.” The man ground out, beginning to rut his hips against your ass. It was dry, and it didn’t feel great, but it was more than enough to satisfy Shigaraki. “I barely touch you, I keep my hands to myself-”

Which was a lie. Late at night, when he was sure you were fast asleep, he’d touch, just a little. Rubbing your nipples, feeling them peak under his touch. Feeling the curve of your waist, skin soft against his dry palms.

“-I wouldn’t stare either, but you wear those stupid shirts-” The deep cut ones, the ones that showed off your cleavage and allowed him weeks of jerk-off material.

“So annoying, just a stupid little imoto that follows me around, you just want attention.”

He knows you don’t do it on purpose. You aren’t trying to make him see you in a sexual light. But maybe that’s what makes it all the more appealing, how naive and innocent you are.

Fuck, he’s getting close just thinking about your purity, how much you don’t know, how much he could teach you.

He doesn’t know a ton, but Shigaraki knows enough about what feels good for him, and you probably wouldn’t want to learn, but he deserved something nice every once in a while, didn’t he?

The drag of his cock between your ass cheeks was making him loose his mind, the slide too rough, but it felt delicious and stimulated him just right, pulling at his foreskin and spreading his precum into a sticky mess on your skin.

“Fuck, stay still, lemme feel good-” His voice was choked up, still holding it’s usual nasal resonance. 

You sobbed in his hold, his fingers still playing over your shorts, exploring, keeping you occupied and frozen with sensation while he got himself off with your body.

And then he was breaking, splurting his seed all over your lower back, watching it come out of his cock in shaky squirts, painting your skin a cloudy white.

Shigaraki groaned, eyes transfixed to the sight before him. It was hard to keep them open, body shaking with little snaps of pleasure in his veins, in his stomach.

On the bed next to his thigh, the controller started shaking again. Panting, Shigaraki raised his eyes to the TV screen as you slumped against him, softly crying.

Your character was getting attacked again.

“Let’s keep playing.”

And the vibrating controller was pressed to your bare cunt, making you scream.

He’d have to wash it after this, but he figured it was worth it in the grand scheme of things