#i would like to say i did not originally intend to turn this into a joke
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theartisticcrow · 2 days ago
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THE EVE OF REVOLUTION: A "Short" Analysis of the UHC shooter situation and what this could mean for the future.
[Originally written on 13 December, 2024 by yours truly]
I find myself quite intrigued by the events that have occurred within the past couple of weeks. Brian Thompson, former CEO of UnitedHealthcare, was shot dead in New York city and the working class hasn’t been this happy since the sinking of the Titan submersible [EDIT: I was told that apparently this exact line was used in a negative way by some politician and I want to say that I wrote this line on my own as a joke and I had no idea that this happened. I am a part of the working class. I am a part of the people who are happy when bad people die. I wrote this line jokingly trying to be funny and I did not intend for it to sound like something out of a news headline].
I’ll give a brief explanation of what happened in case you don’t already know: Brian Thompson was the CEO of UnitedHealthcare—as was previously mentioned—an American-owned private company meant to provide health insurance to American citizens who found themselves in need of it. However, UnitedHealthcare has a long and excruciating history of denying several claims for insurance without practical reason despite the majority of claims coming from people who do need the insurance money to cover the costs of healthcare related services. Millions of citizens have suffered and died as a result of the company's greed and lack of regard for the good of the people. UnitedHealthcare is neither the only health insurance company to operate in such ways. It is simply one of many American companies corrupted with power and all of them are aware of how their actions affect the public, but they do not care because the money that lines their pockets is built purely off the anguish of innocent people. 
I have reason to believe that this is the start of something greater, but there’s a lot here that I need to explain before I get to that point, so I hope you like reading because this is going to be a bit long.
On 4 December, Brian Thompson was shot and killed on the pavement outside the New York Hilton Midtown building along West 54th Street at roughly 6:45 a.m. (EST). The suspect was identified on CCTV footage to be a young man in a hoodie which concealed most of his face aside from a joyful smile as he walked away. He then escaped by bicycle and evaded the police for three days before allegedly being arrested in a McDonald’s with several pieces of incriminating evidence in Altoona, Pennsylvania. During the time that police went searching for the shooter, they found a bag in Central Park believed to belong to the suspect that was filled with monopoly money (the fake currency from the capitalism board game) along with three bullet casings at the sight of the shooting that had written on them the words: Deny, Defend, Despose. Seeing as the police had no leads, they began requesting the help of the public, but were met with an interesting response that went something along the lines of ‘claim denied’. 
All across the world, the UHC shooter was quickly regarded as a hero. People began celebrating the death of Brian Thompson and began laughing in the faces of the government, police and news outlets alike. The media attempted to pose the assassination as a shocking and unexpected tragedy and the vast majority of the population could do all but take them seriously. The news spread like a wildfire across all internet platforms. Fan art began being posted online, a UHC shooter look-alike contest was held and every news article was filled with people in the comments merely laughing. Quite soon after the assassination, it was discovered that someone left a balloon at the sight of the shooting that depicted a graphic of a star with a smiley face and written in pink text, “CEO DOWN”. People began calling him The Claims Adjuster. He became viewed as the real life version of Robin Hood. People would turn on the news each morning to make sure he hadn’t been caught yet, expressing that they actually felt safer knowing that the shooter was still at large.
On 9 December, Luigi Mangione was arrested by local police in Pennsylvania and accused of killing Brian Thompson after an employee of the fast food joint he was sat in reported to police his location. However, there is no true confirmation that he is the real UHC shooter. He was arrested in a McDonald’s supposedly with several pieces of incriminating evidence including a gun and a three page explanation of his motives. The day after his arrest Luigi Mangione immediately accused the police of having planted the evidence. And despite police having offered reward money to anyone that gave them a reliable tip, the McDonald’s employee received not even a penny. The conditions of his arrest immediately presented themself as extremely suspicious. You’re telling me that the guy who carefully planned out and succeeded in the assassination of a corrupt health insurance CEO as well as escaping on a bicycle and evading authorities for several days was caught multiple days later in a McDonald’s with a gun and three pages explaining how and why he committed the crime? The chances of this being true are quite unlikely, especially considering the American police department’s notorious incompetency and a long history of corruption and lies. (All cops are bastards.) A far more realistic situation that would make more sense in the UHC shooter timeline is one in which the police either decided to or were given the order to arrest an innocent man that matched what was known of the shooter’s profile as closely as possible, planting fake evidence at the scene of the arrest and doing everything within their power to deny this man a fair defense in an attempt to shut down whatever hope and optimism has sprung up among the public, considering that if enough people realise how many other individuals feel the same of this situation and they possess the same spite and anger towards those in power, it could eventually lead to revolutionary tendencies. 
Along with this, there have already been several efforts made by the government to silence the voices of the opposition, in particular those who have openly threatened other health insurance companies and/or have worked to expose the corruption of some of those said companies. Such is the case with a woman in Florida, Brianna Boston who ended a phone call with her insurance company Blue Cross Blue Shield—who had just denied her medical claim—by saying: “Delay, deny, despose. You people are next.” She was then arrested despite having no weapons, nor a criminal record of any kind and is being charged with a crime she did not truly commit.
A few news articles recently appeared describing Luigi Mangione as having an outburst outside of the court, however upon reviewing the footage it becomes clear that this is not what happened, rather the outburst came more from the police officer with a hand around Mangione’s neck and another officer that slammed Mangione into a wall after he had attempted to communicate “It’s completely unjust and an insult to the intelligence of the American people and their lived experience”. The government is already enforcing censorship upon the internet and citizens where they can, and the media is making every effort to sway the opinion of the American people by posing the assassination as something to be scared of. This is called fear mongering and it is quite prevalent in American politics (as well as Nazi Germany).
But regardless of every attempt the government and media makes to take control of the situation, they cannot control the sudden shift in American politics that has been prompted by the assassination of Brian Thompson. For the longest time—ever since the end of George Washington’s presidency, really—the politics in the United States have always been made out to be a conflict of the Left versus the Right. Democrats versus Conservatives. However, as of the past couple weeks it would seem as though the true conflict in American politics has been realised by more and more people. It has nothing to do with the different political groups that exist partially to keep the country divided and weak. The true enemy of the people is the privileged and wealthy elites. It is all the lower classes—regardless of their beliefs, religion or who they are as a person—versus the wealthy politicians, billionaires and corrupt CEOs that have come to believe the citizens are there to serve them rather than the other way ‘round as it truly should be. The people of America are slowly becoming more and more united by a similar motivation: Liberty, equality, fraternity. For far too long have these wealthy company executives and corrupt politicians sat upon a throne of blood and lies bought with the money stolen from innocent people, gorging themselves upon a feast of human suffering and wine made from the tears of children whose parents were killed in a bombing run funded by the US government for no other reason than profit and power. But little do these people know that terror does not reign. That term in of itself was also a lie, and they were so caught up in their own lies that they forgot they were just as frail and weak as every other human being that they slaughtered to get their way. To put it simply: Times are changing and so is the people’s tolerance. 
Of course, not everyone agrees. There are some who I have seen say that the death of Brian Thompson should not be celebrated. That to do so should be considered sick and twisted behaviour, but what the people saying this either do not realise or are choosing to fully disregard is the fact that Brian Thompson condemned thousands of people to death and made his entire fortune off of doing so. Some argue that now his children are without a father and that is a reason not to support it, but think of how many children have ended up without fathers, or mothers because he made the deliberate and knowing choice to deny them the insurance that could have saved their life? What about friends, family, parents who have lost their own children because of things that insurance refused to cover, deeming it unnecessary despite doctors making clear that nothing else is more important than the very thing that insurance is denying? Brian Thompson’s family will be fine. They live in a house built of blood and bone. Few people can afford even so much as a broom closet.
The media has referred to Brian Thompson’s assassination as ‘brutal’, ‘shocking’, and an act of ‘senseless violence’. They speak as though everyone could not see it coming, because they do not bother to acknowledge the inherent violence that the entire medical, insurance, and governing system is built upon. They spread propaganda and provide the richest country in the world with a major lack of proper education in an effort to keep the people from rising against them, however this fear and every attempt to prevent it from happening will be the very thing that has wrought it in the end. This assassination was not unprovoked, nor was it an overreaction. It was long overdue and truly a wonder that it didn’t happen sooner. If this were somewhere like France, people would be outraged. They would be setting fires in the streets and threatening to shit in the river. The reason this doesn’t happen in America is due to the country’s history.
America is rather young compared to other countries in say Europe, Asia or Africa. They fought a revolutionary war, but after that, the newly formed United States focused on taking over the rest of the land now known as modern day America. The early government was ruled by slave owners and racists. Their education system is underfunded, thus the people do not learn a good enough history. The country is built upon violence, war, nationalism, hatred and a people that have come to treat their political figures like gods. That is not to say other countries are not full of flaws, but I’m rather choosing to focus on the history of the United States and what led to the country’s current predicament and I’ll be using that historical knowledge to explain the true significance of the UHC shooter because it’s the start of something big and I’ve been saying it for years. 
American politics are inherently fascist. That part is obvious, but why? There are several factors throughout American history that come into play here, but I believe that a lot of it can be traced back to the American Revolutionary War and the creation of the country itself. Revolutions are prompted by many of the same and similar factors all throughout history. This can be observed in the American Revolution, French Revolution, Russian Revolution, Haitian Revolution, etcetera… However the American Revolution can be said to differ in a fair few ways. In particular, the American Revolution was prompted by a desire for separation from England and the issues it was causing for the colonies as well as the freedom to do what they wanted with the land across the sea, including expanding their territory West into lands that were already occupied by the native people. Keep in mind, this is one of several factors, but it is what can objectively be referred to as one of the major priorities/motivations in what led them to declare war. The Americans also throughout this part of history and all the way up to the present day saw the native people as inferior. This was a common theme within its politics and nationalistic ideologies that the country maintains today. The vast majority of the major revolutionary figures were slave owners. Come the time of the revolution, they made no efforts to bring a proper end to slavery. Many of them believed it wasn’t necessary. They started to form a new government and formed new laws. However, many parts of the American justice system possessed several flaws and several contradictions. Political corruption became prevalent fairly quickly. (Although that is not to say that any government is without corruption.) 
There is also the thing I mentioned earlier of how the United States has a strange habit of treating politicians like gods. Praising and worshipping at their feet like it’s a cult. Children must stand in their classrooms and pledge their life to a country that betrays them time and time again. This is known as America’s weird obsession with nationalism (a concept basically created by Napoleon). But what does the country owe them? What has the country ever done for them? America is the war country. There is a specific reason that it is often referred to as the American Revolutionary War, because the battle they fought is different from other revolutions in history. It was not the same kind of uprising as the French Revolution for example, which was the working class people fighting against the monarchy and taking over the government. The American Revolution functioned more like two countries fighting against each other rather than an uprising and take over of the government within one country. 
America often likes to proclaim itself as the ‘freest country in the world’, but I always have to call into question what that statement is actually referring to. Among the things the Americans fought for in their revolution is the freedom of expression, but the government is constantly fighting to strip away the rights of as many people as they can and turn the country into an authoritarian dictatorship. So it’s rather hypocritical, isn’t it? I ask once again: Freedom for whom, and to do what exactly? Freedom for white men to do what they like with whomever they please? Freedom for the police and military to kill anybody that they disagree with or don’t like for whatever reason? What about the freedom of having affordable housing, food, medical care and education? The monopoly game of a country run by clowns (derogatory) can’t even do that much. Politicians are supposed to serve and protect the people, not the other way around. Yet so often do I see people forget or completely disregard that fact. The education system is underfunded for a reason. 1984 by George Orwell is banned for a reason. The system is not flawed. It is working exactly as it was designed, keeping people divided and weak whilst also presenting them with the illusion of freedom as they set up every other citizen for failure. But that tactic is exactly what will bring its downfall. You can already see it happening. You can smell it in the air: the calm before the storm. It’s really not that hard to see so long as you know where to look.
The American people, in particular the political left, seem hesitant to get up and physically fight back. There is a hesitance there that results in them not defending their rights as ruthlessly as they should. The origins in this hesitance do lie partly in the American Revolutionary War and the particular major revolutionary figures in said war. The way the country was founded and slowly sculpted into what it is today. They wanted freedom, but for different reasons. They had different goals and motivations. Of course the country born from a war is going to do nothing but wage war. It’s just a matter of why so many of the people would rather sit around and wait for something to happen rather than doing something themselves? Why is it not the same in somewhere like France where the people are more than willing to break out into a riot at the slightest change to a law? While I already made a comparison to France as I explained the difference between a revolutionary war and a proper revolution, I’m going to talk about the French Revolution again and in a little more detail, because I believe there’s no better way to explain the problem with American politics and where said politics are heading than by talking about the most impactful revolution in history.
France is a country decidedly owned by the people with a government meant to serve the people whether the politicians like it or not. The French Revolution is arguably the most iconic revolution in history with an impact that has stretched across multiple centuries, and it’s my personal favourite historical event to study. Call me biased all you want, but that thirty page essay changed me in ways I still have yet to figure out and I might as well use this knowledge however I can. Of course, I can't start talking about my favourite historical event without starting with a disclaimer: Maximilien Robespierre was not a bloodthirsty dictator. That is a very common misconception made popular by Thermidorian and British propaganda, but it is not true. Any historian of the French Revolution worth their salt should be able to confirm this. Regardless, when most people think of the French Revolution, they think only of the Terror and a historically inaccurate depiction of Robespierre, but it is so much more than that. People who think only from this perspective are truly missing out on the bigger picture (as well as the autism). This revolution was fought by the citizens of France as they demolished an entire royal monarchy and fought for years to keep the country from collapsing under the intense pressure of having all of Europe declare war on them. 
I occasionally see people saying that the French Revolution failed, but if you’re the type of person to prioritise thorough research, you would know that this is not true. The French Revolution most certainly did not fail. It set the groundwork for the freedom and equality of the French people. During the Revolution, they got rid of slavery (until Napoleon came along), they legalised homosexuality, cut off the heads of several rich people and so much more. They established the National Assembly and the National Convention, and eventually the CSP (Committee of Public Safety, and that’s how I get confused whenever someone brings up Child Protection Services by its acronym). The Revolution succeeded in so many ways with its major failing being for the most part putting so many responsibilities on the shoulders of the individual members of the CSP and expecting them to be able to handle all of that. The French Revolution had a massive impact upon the world, changing it in so many different ways and it represents so many things that I could genuinely spend fifty pages talking about its historical significance and how it relates to the modern world, but I will keep things brief (for once) with a quick summary so that it’s at least somewhat comprehensible to those who doesn’t have my level of autism. 
The thing that sets the American Revolution apart from the French Revolution and explains in many ways the difference of politics lies in the ideas that drove each revolution. The Americans wanted ‘freedom’, sure, but the French wanted much more than just that. They strived for equality and a country that was not controlled purely by the monarchy and the church. By abolishing their monarchy—something that not even the Americans could do—they achieved a lot both in the short-term and long-term. The Revolution did not fail, even despite Napoleon, the Thermidorian Reaction and establishment of a constitutional monarchy just a few decades later. They killed their King, someone that held a position of power believed to be bestowed upon them by God, and they created a Republic. Such things were unheard of until now. This led to massive changes in society with the rise of the middle class. It redefined the concepts of governance, citizenship and human rights. The distribution of power was forever changed and the realisation that the French people could rise up against their own government, take down the monarchy and succeed is also what sparked the Haitian Revolution, as well as paving the way for the eventual elimination of several monarchies across the continent. It helped shape our modern day ideas of liberty and democratic rights and it unified the French people in a way that still affects the culture of France along with several other places. On top of that, it can also be said that the French Revolution set up the foundations for the rise of socialism and communism. The French Revolution succeeded in more ways than most people realise and it’s that fight for equality by the working class that has given France such an intense revolutionary spirit. To say that it was an overreaction to start burning stuff down when France’s government raised the retirement age by a couple of years is foolish, because that revolutionary spirit is the reason that the French have so many rights and America does not. 
And the only reason why people tell you that the French Revolution didn’t work or was a bad idea is because that then discourages other people from attempting any kind of their own revolt regardless of how corrupt and abusive the government becomes. So long as the public remains undereducated, they will be easier for the government to control.
That is also why I believe that history is the most important subject that you can learn in school. That’s also a part of why I’m saying all this. If you are able to understand the past, you can predict the future. Many of the same or similar factors are present before and during the beginning of every revolution. These factors often include, but are not limited to:
Inflation; a lack of affordable food and housing; increased violence; high levels of unemployment; social inequality; suppression of opposing voices; economic failure; increased class consciousness; underpaid workers; worker strikes; political protests; intentional election rigging; people no longer accepting the traditional powers of authority; rising popularity of radical ideologies; the collective realisation that several other individuals share the same opinion on a certain situation; increased risk and fear of death among the citizens; high taxes; a shift in politics that results in the people becoming less divided; increased focus on the real conflict being the privileged rich elites versus everyone else; politicians not keeping the promises of things they said they would do; decreased trust and approval of the government; stricter and more dictatorial laws; unlawful arrest of innocent citizens because of something they merely said (the government is becoming paranoid); lower classes becoming more and more fed up with the old regime; government debt; army/military joins the side of the people rather than the government; groups of people rebelling against the law; an ineffective government with politicians focusing on the wrong issues, ignoring the voices of the people and patting themselves on the back for nothing; politicians and government members are fighting amongst themselves and getting nothing done; political deadlock; more people speaking out against the government; the government is losing control over the people; the government is desperately trying to gain back control through the use of propaganda, fear mongering and taking advantage of media outlets; a general increased struggle to survive; mass frustration; riots and local uprisings; conflict between the old and new ways of governance; visible difference in wealth distribution; unifying motivations; and finally a prolonged period of economic and social development followed by a period of sharp reversal in which people fear that progress made is about to be stripped away and lost.
Does any of this sound familiar to you? Yeah, only after writing all this down in my draft did I realise that nearly every single cause of revolution can be applied as a true statement of the United States of America. Huh, what a funny and extremely specific coincidence that is. So what exactly am I suggesting here? Well, to essentially summarize everything that I have written thus far: We might just be on the verge of Revolution. I learned a while ago that once a country hits rock bottom, that’s when a revolution begins and based on the presidential election results, America is about to dive quite deep into the pits of Hell. But don’t worry, it’s not all doom and gloom. That’s why I’ve written this. So long as the individuals of the lower classes are able to stand united and fight for liberty, equality and dare I say fraternity, a greater change shall be able to be made. The choice of standing around and simply hoping that things will improve isn’t much of a choice anymore. There is no better time to take action than right now while we still have a fighting chance. This is not something to fear, but rather to look forward to and encourage. The American citizens combined together can greatly outweigh the government. Those wealthy politicians are not as powerful as they think they are. Their power lies in ensuring that the people remain divided and the recent events with the UHC shooter prove that there is indeed a chance to diminish that power. They are not immortal. Even the greatest empire eventually burned away. 
And while we can’t all be famous revolutionaries, that doesn’t mean that each person can’t help to bring the change we’ve needed for a long time. It starts small. It starts with taking care of our own communities and advocating for other people every chance we get. So long as we as a people remain united, there is little change we cannot bring. The Revolution has only just begun…
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bookwyrminspiration · 14 days ago
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i deeply appreciate the summary you did of the q&a with shannon and because i am me i got to the part where shannon talks about names and my brain went "oooh transgenderism" so now i am looking at new names for the blorbos that have the same meaning but a new gender
I am at your service, my liege. You can never go wrong transgenderizing the blorbos <3
i have a proposal for transfemme fitz
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s0dium · 3 months ago
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𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑!!!
𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
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𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d find out that your crush, Geto Suguru, was just like you: a murderer. Not only that but you share the same passion; killing criminals and pedophiles! (Happy Kinktober) 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: DARK CONTENT, gore, mutilation, murder, mentions of pedophiles (y/n kills them), serial killing, unprotected sex, breeding, choking, teasing, knife play, whipped Suguru 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.3k 𝐀/𝐧: This is based HEAVILY on the novel Butcher and Blackbird by Brynne Weaver. The original idea is credited to Brynne Weaver ONLY. This work is fan fiction and is not intended for commercial purposes or to infringe on the intellectual property rights of the original author.
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Being a serial killer who kills other killers, pedophiles, and rapists is a great hobby.
Until you find yourself locked in a cage.
For three days.
No AC.
With a body you carved up.
You glare at the fly-riddled corpse whose legs are kneeling opposite of you in the locked cage you were both trapped in. The air is thick with the putrid stench of decay, a relentless assault on your senses. The body's skin is pallid, marred by the writhing mass of white maggots that feast mercilessly. Where eyes once held gaze, now only hollow sockets remain, tediously scooped out and vacant. The ears too have been sheared off, leaving clean edges that blend into the mottled, blood-stained flesh. Its chest has been cracked open; ribs pried apart in a macabre mimicry of an unhinged broken cocoon, revealing the dark, empty cavity where a heart once beat.
Then, of course, the piste de resistance of your work, the removed eyes, ears, and heart rest in the corpse's upturned palms—placed with ceremonial care amidst the chaos of mutilation.
So now, if anyone were to walk down the steps of Gary Green House's basement, they would not only find his mutilated body, but the person who did it, trapped in a cage together.
"Fuck." You curse at yourself for the millionth time since you've been trapped here for the last three days. The cold realization that you've fallen into Gary’s final trap gnaws at your mind as relentlessly as the maggots at the corpse across from you. The cage, a cruel relic of Gary’s twisted pleasures, had seemed the perfect place for your ritual—turning the hunter into the hunted in his own den of horrors. But in your fervor to see him pay, you overlooked one crucial detail: the cage's sinister design, which sealed shut the moment its door swung closed.
The remote control, now a mocking symbol of freedom, lies just beyond the bars, on a small, grimy table. You remember the sickening click of the lock, the finality of it echoing in the cramped space as you turned back from the grisly task of dismembering Gary—his last, silent victory.
Even the idiot police could deduce that this was all your doing, seeing as all your bloody tools were still with you in your backpack. With fingerprints. It was just a matter of time before they opened the basement door.
You could practically hear Gary’s voice from beyond the grave: "Hah! Serves you right, you stupid bitch! That's what you get for killing me!" The taunt echoes in your head like a song over and over again and you're seriously contemplating banging your head against the iron bars.
"FUCK FINE!" You yell into the darkness. "I renounce my wicked ways!"
"That's a shame. I bet I would like your wicked ways."
You jump at the sound of a man's deep, smooth voice, the cadence of slight raspiness warming every note. Your curses cut the humid air from the startlement of the man's presence. How the hell did he even get in here? You didn't hear the basement door open. You scurry out of reach of the man who saunters into the thin thread of light from the narrow window, the glass opaque with fly shit.
"You seem to be in a predicament." He says stepping into view. The thin light from the window partially illuminates him, allowing you to make out his face. Oh rather, what is on his face.
Holy shit.
A ghost mask stares back at you, its hollow eyes and elongated mouth frozen in a chilling scream. The stark white of the mask contrasts sharply with the surrounding shadows, and you watch with wide eyes as he tilts his head.
Holy shit holy shit holy shit.
In any other situation, you might be fan-girling. You know exactly who you're staring at: the infamous Crucifer, a killer, like you, but notorious for his crucifixion of criminals in rather, flamboyant displays. The few eyewitness accounts of the Crucifer all mention the ghost mask, leaving no doubt in your mind about his identity.
While your hunting grounds have been Osaka, his have typically been Tokyo, but despite the geographical difference, his reputation precedes him. In all honesty, you shouldn’t be surprised he’s here. Your victim, Gary Greenwich, is notorious even among the authorities. Despite his crimes, the lack of solid evidence has always allowed him to slip through the cracks of the justice system, leaving him free to continue his heinous activities. He was high on your kill list, and it’s no surprise he was high on Crucifers as well.
He takes a few steps closer toward the cage to stare down at the corpse, bending to take a closer look.
"Well what happened here?" He chuckles.
You are on day three of no food. No water. The gnawing hunger in your stomach feels like a relentless beast, clawing at your insides with increasing ferocity. You wonder if your body has started to eat its own organs at this point.
You can't deal with this shit.
"Self defense." You say.
The man chuckles. "I doubt that, you're not his type." Despite his mask you can feel his eyes shift from the corpse to linger on you.
"And how would you know that?"
"Well disregarding the state in which you "self defense" left him, you're not a 6 year old boy. And," he steps closer so now he is inches away from the bars and his whole body is illuminated. "I make it my business to know."
You don't answer. Instead you watch as he crouches down to meet your gaze. You try to hide behind your tangled hair and folded limbs, giving him only your eyes.
And of course, just your luck, he is stunning
Black hair flows behind his mask and down his shoulder. He's wearing a black compression shirt that hugs every muscle of his biceps and forearms, accentuating his athletic build. His broad shoulders enhance his imposing presence, giving him the aura of a seasoned athlete. Black cargo pants complete his ensemble, practical and intimidating, with a hunting knife sticking out of his pocket, probably what he would've used on Gary if you hadn't got to him first.
Something about him looks familiar, something you can't put your finger on.
"I guess you made it your business to know too." He pauses before moving even closer so his mask is practically pressed against the iron bars. "Hey, you look pretty familiar."
You shift uncomfortably, feeling the prickle of anxiety creeping up your spine. Instinctively, you brush a tangled lock of hair from your face, wincing as it catches on your dry lips. The man's shoulders tense as if he has been electrocuted.
"Y/n?" His voice cuts through the thick silence like a knife.
Oh, what the hell.
You jerk your head up from your hunched posture, eyes wide in shock, meeting the unsettling, hollow eyes of the ghost mask. Your heart races, pounding loudly in your chest.
"Wha-"
"Oh my god, it is you!" He exclaims, his loud deep voice echoing through the basement.
"I'm sorry, I don't-" you stammer, confusion and fear knotting in your stomach.
"It's me," he interrupts, and with a swift motion, he takes off his mask. The sight of his familiar face makes your breath catch in your throat. "Suguru Geto."
Suguru Geto. The name alone sent ripples through your thoughts, dragging along memories and emotions you had long buried. Suguru wasn’t just any ordinary guy; he was a micro-celebrity in Tokyo, renowned for his breathtaking tattoo artistry. His ink adorned the bodies of celebrities, flaunted in TikToks and Instagram posts that garnered thousands of likes. His reputation was impeccable, his designs sought after by the elite.
You had crossed paths with Suguru a few times at various parties, your social circles occasionally overlapping due to mutual friends. Each encounter left an indelible mark on you. His presence was magnetic, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. It wasn’t just his talent that made him irresistible; it was everything about him. Those hawk-like eyes that seemed to pierce through to your very soul, the perfect curve of his lips that could shift from a smirk to a genuine smile in an instant, and those dimples that appeared whenever he graced you with that smile—each feature was a weapon, effortlessly disarming.
You, like many other girls, harbored a secret crush on Suguru Geto. It was impossible not to. That face alone could kill, and his charisma was the final blow.
And now, here he was, standing right in front of you, unmasked and undeniably real. The reality of it all hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and a little overwhelmed.
Suguru clears his throat, a small smirk playing on his lips from how obviously you are gawking at him.
"Shot in the dark here but are you the Mute Collector?"
You part your lips to say something but you can't seem to form the right words.
"I-"
Suguru's grin widens and a sharp laugh escapes his perfect mouth. "Oh my god. I knew it. I fucking knew they had it wrong about you with that bull shit profile they built. What was it, they said you were a 30 year old white man?" Suguru throws his head back and smiles at the ceiling. "And the Mute Collector? You? That's just awesome. I'm such a huge fan."
"Yeah..." You clear your throat and push your hair completely out of your face. He grins at you, as though awe struck, and if you weren't wearing 100 layers of grime on your skin you are sure he'd be able to see the blush flaming in your cheeks for a second.
"And you?" You nod toward the mask. "You are?" You don't know why you are feigning ignorance but something about humbling him seems tastier than actual food right now.
"Oh come on." Suguru's tone flattens and he brings the mask up next to his face.
"The Crucifer?"
You shake your head.
"The cross maker?"
You shake your head again. Lying through your teeth is fun.
"The Tokyo Butcher?" When you shake your head he sighs and stands up. "Well," he glances to Gary whose maggots have made their way to the empty eye sockets. "What do you say? We ditch this lousy scene and get something to eat. Maybe when you get food in your stomach you will remember some of my little nicknames."
Your eyes widen and your stomach growls loudly, reminding you of how long it's been since you last ate. You glance up at your Suguru, a mix of hope and suspicion in your gaze.
"Are you serious?" you ask, your voice hoarse from dehydration.
"Yeah, after we get you a shower, some clothes and burn the house down."
You gulp and stand to your feet. "Could we get burgers?"
Suguru grins before grabbing the remote and pointing it at the cage.
"Fine by me."
~
The Mute Collector.
Geto Suguru is sitting across from the fucking Mute Collector.
And god you are beautiful.
Not that he just realized it now. Like many others, he has always known how attractive you are; he just pushed it to the back of his mind. But now, knowing who you really are and what you do in your free time, your body has practically been encompassed in bright warm light and your head adorned with a halo. He watches as you down your 6th cup of water with a sigh and wipe your mouth with your sleeve.
The two of you sit in a cozy booth at a restaurant, the warm, smoky aroma filling the air. Suguru leans back with a beer in hand, watching you with a mix of amusement and caution. The waitress approaches, placing a large plate with a double cheeseburger and fries in front of you. Your eyes light up, and without wasting a second, you pick up the cheeseburger with your fingers and take a big bite, savoring the flavors.
Suguru chuckles, raising his beer in a mock toast. "You look like you've just found the Holy Grail."
He doesn't miss the way you stifle back a laugh, trying to speak through a mouthful of burger. "If the Holy Grail were covered in cheese and ketchup, then yeah, maybe."
He takes a sip of his beer, grinning. "I’ve never seen someone so excited about food. Maybe you should give up your little hobby and do food reviews."
"Well, that's what being trapped in a cage with the rotting corpse of a pedophile does to you I guess." You grumble, setting down the burger and taking another drink of water.
Suguru's eyes stay on you, and he takes the opportunity to really assess you. Your hair is damp, and the wetness seeps into the white Mickey Mouse shirt you're wearing, causing it to cling slightly to your skin and reveal the elegant lines of your collarbone. He bought that shirt and the shorts for you at a thrift store, and despite the fact that such clothes should look bad on anyone, you are rocking them effortlessly.
He can't help but notice that you didn't buy a bra, a fact that makes him smile to himself.
No bra.
"So tell me." Suguru sets his beer back on the table and leans in.
"The whole ears, eyes and heart thing." He waves his left hand in the air. "The police say it's satanic ritual stuff but I don't buy it."
You pause, a hint of a smile playing at your lips as you meet his gaze. "It's simple, really. Hear no evil, see no evil, fear no evil."
Suguru raises an eyebrow. "You have a way of making the macabre sound poetic."
You're about to reach for a fry, but he snatches it before your fingers could reach it.
"Why not the tongue?" He says. "You know, speak no evil."
You roll your eyes and snatch the fry out of his fingers. "Tongues are hard to cut, too slippery and make a mess."
He nods thoughtfully, leaning back in his seat. "You know, most people would be horrified to hear you talk like that."
"Good thing you’re not most people," you reply with a smirk.
"Touché."
He watches as your lips wrap around the thick fry and your teeth rip off half of it into your mouth.
No bra.
"What about you Suguru?" You lock eyes with him. "Why are you here?"
"Why am I here?"
"You heard me. You swoop in all superman-like, save me from the dipshit’s pedo dungeon and take me out for a double cheeseburger. Why are you here?"
Suguru shrugs and averts his gaze from your unyielding stare. Shit, your piercing eyes are almost making him sweat.
"Same thing you already did. I was going to skin him alive and and display the fucking monkey Jesus style infront of his house. At least, something like that."
"Yeah but why him? I thought your hunting grounds were in Tokyo?"
Your eyes widen slightly as the words hang in the air, the weight of your mistake sinking in immediately. You feel a rush of heat to your cheeks, a telltale sign of your embarrassment. Your lips part as if to take back the words, but it's too late; they've already been spoken.
A sly smile spreads across Sugurus face as he watches your face fall.
"Oh you totally know who I am Y/n."
"Fucking hell."
"You do! You know that I like to hunt near my home, how long have you been a part of my fan club?"
You roll your eyes and fall back into your seat. You blink rapidly, trying to maintain your composure, but the subtle tension in your jaw and the furrowing of your brow betray your embarrassment.
"So which one was your favorite? The monkey I strung up next to the police station? Or the one I flayed inside the Tokyo Union Church?"
"Oh my god I can already tell you are going to be insufferable." You grumble, the heat of embarrassment slowly dissipating as you take a deep breath. Suguru leans back, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he swirls the beer in his hand, watching you with an almost predatory curiosity. As seconds pass, Suguru assesses your face, following how your eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape route, and Suguru’s playful expression falters for a split second. He realizes with a sudden jolt that you're trying to leave. He can't have that. He needs to see you again.
"Hey speaking of suffering," Suguru clears his throat. "Have you heard about the women killings in Kyoto?"
Your eyebrows raise, curiosity piqued. "Yeah, I've heard. Pretty gruesome stuff. Why do you ask?"
A playful smile tugs at his lips. "How about a friendly competition? The killer's already taken six lives so far."
You tilt your head, your eyes narrowing slightly as you try to decipher his intentions. "What do you mean by a competition?"
Suguru leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "That's exactly what it sounds like. Who can hunt him down first?"
For a moment, you're taken aback, your eyes widening as you process his proposal. A mix of surprise and intrigue flickers across your face. "Are you serious?"
He chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction. "As sin."
"And what do we get if we win?"
Suguru's eyes gleam with amusement and something else—admiration. "Bragging rights, of course. And maybe... another dinner like this one."
You throw your head back and let out a laugh. "Oh yeah? Who says I'll need you to get me another dinner?"
"Can't let you go hungry again. What do you say?”
~
You sit at your desk, the dim light of your laptop casting a pale glow on your face as you scroll through articles about the woman killer from Kyoto. The room is quiet, save for the occasional click of your mouse and the hum of the laptop. Your phone buzzes, and you glance at the screen to see Shoko’s name. With a smile, you answer the call.
"Hey Shoko, how’s your night shift?" you greet her with a teasing tone.
Shoko’s laugh crackles through the speaker. "Busy as always. Just patched up a guy who thought he could outsmart a bulletproof vest with sheer willpower. Spoiler: he couldn’t."
You chuckle, shaking your head. "Sounds like my type of guy."
By day, Shoko is your best friend and a dedicated med student, excelling in her studies with a, albeit, half hearted, passion for helping others. But when the sun sets, she transforms into the notorious Dr. Reverse, the underground doctor every criminal and lowlife turns to in their time of need. Using her medical expertise, she serves those who cannot seek help through legal means, operating in the shadows and patching up criminals who live by a different set of rules. In addition to her medical skills, she also deals in poisons, further cementing her reputation in the underworld.
You first met Shoko in a moment of desperation. After cornering a serial rapist, you were attacked with a machete, almost severing your arm. With nowhere else to turn, you sought out Dr. Reverse. Shoko skillfully sewed you up and, in the process, deduced that you were the infamous Mute Collector. To your surprise, she didn't seem to care about your identity, and you, in turn, didn't question her underground business or her dealings with poison. This mutual understanding and acceptance laid the foundation for a strong bond, and you've been best friends ever since. 
Shoko laughed, a sound that always manages to lift your spirits. "Right? Anyway, what's up? I saw your SOS text."
You hesitate, glancing at the photo of Geto Suguru on your screen on a separate tab. His annoyingly white teeth glare back at you, and you try to resist staring at his six pack in an instagram photo someone took of him at a pool party.  His dark eyes seemed to stare right through you, as if mocking your indecision. "It's about Geto."
There was a brief pause before Shoko's voice came back, tinged with curiosity. "Geto? What about him?"
You take a deep breath, your fingers drumming nervously on the desk. "He's the Crucifier."
Shoko's reaction was immediate and loud. "Geto is what?" she practically yelled through the phone, causing you to wince.
"The Crucifier. I know." You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all. "Can you believe it?"
Shoko let out a low whistle. "Wow. I mean, he always seemed like a guy with secrets, but I never pegged him for a serial killer, I mean, someone like you."
"Yeah, well, here we are," You mutter, rubbing your temples. You focus your attention back on your computer screen. Suguru is squeaky clean, not even a bad review on his website. There was only his questionable taste in best friends: Gojo Satoru—the biggest playboy and the infamous heir to the Gojo Company, Japan's largest and most influential corporation. Gojo's notoriety was legendary, his exploits plastered across tabloids and whispered in gossip circles. You’ve met, and been hit on by the man a few times, and not once did you fall for any of his slimy cheap antics. No, Geto Suguru is who your eyes fell on. 
 "And now he’s proposed some sort of competition."
"A competition?" Shoko's voice was practically dripping with amusement. "Like a hunting competition?”
You let out a snort of air through your nose. “Basically.”
Are you gonna do it?"
"I don't know," You admit, leaning forward and resting your chin on your hand. "I said I would, but I don't know. I barely know the guy. Well, I thought I did."
"Well, you should," Shoko said, her tone shifting to one of gentle teasing. "Besides, isn't this your chance to get closer to your crush?"
You feel your cheeks flush. "Shoko, seriously? Come on, that was ages ago."
"Hey, I'm just saying," she replies, laughter bubbling up again. "This could be your big break."
"You're impossible," you grumble, though you can't help but smile. "How's the side business, by the way?"
"Thriving," she says and you can practically see her small smile through the phone.. "You'd be amazed at how many people need a little untraceable something for their enemies."
"I don't doubt it," you say, shaking your head. "Just stay safe, okay?"
"You too, Mute Collector," Shoko says, her voice softening slightly. "And remember, if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."
"Always," you reply, your smile growing wider. "Thanks, Shoko. Talk to you soon."
"Later," she says, and the line goes dead.
You lean back in your chair again, your thoughts drifting back to Geto Suguru and the strange, dangerous world you both inhabit. As much as you hate to admit it, Shoko is right. This is your chance, not just to catch some sick killer, but to uncover the secrets that lie hidden beneath Suguru’s enigmatic exterior.
With a sigh, you close your laptop and stand up, determination settling in your chest. The competition awaits, and you have a feeling it's going to be a game changer.
~
“What’s got your panties in a twist?”
Suguru rolls his eyes at the white hair man’s mocking tone and continues to stare at his phone. It's been 10 minutes. How long does it take for someone to respond to a text. Suguru lay sprawled on the couch, his eyes fixed on his phone. Across the room, Gojo was bustling about in the kitchen, the sound of utensils clinking and food sizzling filling the air.
"Is this about Y/n? The Mute Collector or whatever?" Gojo asked, glancing over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.
Suguru didn't respond, his gaze unwavering from the screen. He could feel Gojo's eyes on him, the scrutiny almost tangible.
"I don't think I've seen you put this much effort into a woman since, like... ever," Gojo continued, his tone teasing. He turned back to his cooking, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement.
Suguru's jaw tightened, but he kept his silence. Gojo, undeterred, pressed on. "Besides the fact that she's the Mute Collector, what do you even see in Y/n? Well, I guess she does have other assets," he chuckled.
"Keep her name out of your fucking mouth, you prick," Suguru snapped, his voice low and menacing.
Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender, a laugh escaping his lips. "Alright, alright, no need to get all territorial."
Suguru continued to stare at his phone, his fingers hovering over the keys. "How long does it take for someone to respond to a fucking text" he mutters under his breath.
Gojo leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Maybe she's busy. Or maybe she's just messing with you. You know, playing hard to get."
Suguru finally looks up, his eyes narrowing. "She doesn't play games. And she's not hard to get—she's hard to keep."
Gojo raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by Suguru's reaction. “Touchy, touchy,” he mutters, returning to his culinary task.
Just then, Suguru's phone pings. His heart skips a beat as he sees your name flash on the screen. He quickly opens the message, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he reads your response.
Y/n: Fine, I'll do it. But what are the details?
Suguru: Oh, I'm thrilled
Y/n: Shut up.
Suguru: The rules are simple: whoever deduces the monkey’s identity first and guts the bastard wins.
Y/n: And how do I know you don’t already have a head start?
Suguru: I guess you'll just have to trust me. 
Y/n: Trust you? That’s rich coming from someone who literally stabs people in the back.
Suguru lets out a snort of air from your comment catching Gojo’s attention. “Ah, there it is. The smile of a man who's finally gotten what he wants.”
Suguru doesn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he focuses on your message, feeling a grin grow on his lips.
Suguru: You wound me, truly. But where’s the fun without a little challenge? Besides, I wouldn’t want to make it too easy for you
Y/n: Easy, huh? I suppose you think you’re quite the genius, then?
Suguru: Only compared to the average monkey. You, on the other hand, might actually make this interesting.
Y/n: Is that a compliment or are you just trying to butter me up?
Suguru: Can’t it be both? 
Y/n: Oh, don't worry. You’re not the only one who enjoys a good chase. But don’t cry when I beat you at your own game.
Suguru: Cry? Please. I’ll be too busy admiring you in action. It’s a win-win for me.
Y/n: Flattery will get you nowhere, Suguru.
Suguru: Really?
Suguru: Not even a little bit princess 🥺?
Y/n: *One attachment*
You send an image of your hand flipping him off. Your middle finger nail is painted black and he assumes so are all your other fingers. His heart thuds against his chest. God, how he would love to have those nails dragging down his back. His dick twitches just thinking about it. 
Gojo snickers as if he can read Suguru’s thoughts and Suguru considers throwing his phone at the smug white hair man when Gojo’s phone rings. Any humor falls off Gojo’s features like snow from a shaken tree branch. He glances at the caller ID, his eyes narrowing, and picks up the phone with a serious tone.
“This is Gojo.” He says. His voice is gruff as he responds to the caller with clipped “yes” and “no” answers, his timbre low. “I'll be there in 30 minutes.” 
When he sets down the phone, Suguru meets his blue eyes, Gojo’s brief smile is grim.
“Trouble?” Suguru asks.
“Trouble.” Gojo repeats.
On the exterior Gojo is Japan's most infamous playboy and philanthropist. But by night he is the devil's tool, the country's most lethal assassin for anyone from politicians to presidents.  What Suguru and you do for a hobby, Gojo Satoru does for his job.
Gojo dumps his hot food in a container, grabs his hunting knife coat and bag and heads for the door. Before he exits, he turns around to lock eyes with Suguru.
“Be safe. A woman killer is a deadly combo.” He says.
Suguru chuckles, and for a second he doesn't know if Gojo’s talking about you or the guy in Kyoto. “You to ass hat.”  
~
You can't believe you are doing this. 
You can't believe that you took up Suguru’s competition, spent 120 dollars on a train and hotel room at Kyoto and an extra 20 on room service. Moreover you can't believe that you are here, hiding in a forest of bamboo shoots at the dead of night, watching some man who may or may not be the Kyoto women killer.
It’s a warm summer night, and every time the wind blows, the bamboo shoots rustle against each other, creating a haunting melody that sets your nerves on edge. The air is thick with the scent of earth and foliage, and the occasional hoot of an owl punctuates the silence. You’re crouched low, your body tense, watching a man named Noaya Zenin who you followed out here. He seems to be wandering aimlessly, but you know better than to underestimate him. The Zenin clan's reach is long and shadowy, and their involvement in the Kyoto women killings is a tangled web you’ve been unraveling. All key witnesses were either paid off by the Zenin clan or had lawyers representing them from the Zenin clan. The pattern was too precise to be a coincidence.
Your heart thuds in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The thrill of the chase, the hunt, makes your senses sharper, every movement and sound more pronounced. You can feel the need creeping up on you, slowly reaching your brain until your skin itches with anticipation. 
Each minute feels like an eternity as you scrutinize Noaya’s every move. He stops occasionally, looking around as if sensing he’s being watched, and you hold your breath, pressing yourself closer to the ground. The moonlight filters through the dense bamboo, casting eerie shadows that dance with the wind. Your mind races, piecing together fragments of evidence and suspicion. If Noaya Zenin is indeed the killer, catching him here could be the breakthrough you need.
“Hiya.”
A scream almost rips through you when you feel someone's breath against your ear, but you quickly cover your mouth and whip around. Of course, you’re met face to face with the man you least wanted to see right now. Familiar hazel eyes gaze back at you, glinting with mischief and amusement. Suguru is crouched right next to you, his nose mere inches from yours, a sly smirk on his face. You didn’t even hear him approach.
“Suguru, what the fuck?” you hiss, keeping your voice low. Your first instinct is to grab your knife out of your pocket and press it against his throat but he holds both his hands up as if surrendering, stopping you.
“Woah woah princess, let's cool our engines.” He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying your reaction.
Your pulse is still racing, but you force yourself to calm down. “You could have given me a heart attack. How did you even find me?” You seethe.
“I have my ways,” he replies cryptically, his smirk widening. “Besides, I couldn’t let you have all the fun, now could I? So,” his eyes flicker to Noaya, who still seems to be staring at his phone. “Who are we looking at?”
“We?” You scoff and roll your eyes. “Are you kidding me? There is no we. This is a competition, remember? Go do your own research.”
Suguru raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, come on. You know you love my company.”
Before you can retort, Noaya picks up his phone. You both strain to listen, and you catch his words clearly.
“Yeah, I’m at the bamboo forest. See you soon, babe.” He then hangs up the phone with a click and puts it back in his backpack. But just when you're about to turn back to Suguru and rip into the man, Noaya pulls something else out too. A hunting knife. A large one at that with serrated ends and a pointed tip that glints in the moon light. Just like the one used on the victims. And as if things couldn't get any more apparent, you watch as a wicked grin spreads across his face when he draws the blade diagonally through the air.
“Oh shit,” you whisper, eyes wide. “That’s definitely him. That’s like some comically evil villain shit right there.”
“Dibs,” Suguru whispers back, a glint of excitement in his eyes as he puts on his ghost mask. “I call fucking dibs.” He stands up, the crunch of leaves making Noaya whip around and stare right at the area you both hid in.
For a solid 5 seconds your two flabbergasted to even form words, you can only watch as Suguru steps out from the bamboo shoots and onto the trail, slowly walking toward Noaya like a lion cornering a gazelle. 
Or course, Noaya turns, screams like a little girl, and makes a hard right straight into the forest of bamboos.
“Oh hell no,” you mutter, leaping up and chasing after him. You sprint through the forest, the warm summer air thick and humid around you. Each footfall is muffled by the dense undergrowth, but the occasional snap of a twig or crunch of leaves marks your frenzied pace. Moonlight filters through the dense canopy, casting ghostly shadows that dance along the forest floor, creating an ever-shifting maze of light and dark.
Your breath comes in quick, controlled bursts, each inhale filling your lungs with the earthy scent of the forest. Adrenaline surges through your veins, sharpening your senses. The rhythmic pounding of your heart in your chest matches the rapid beat of your footsteps. Ahead, you can just make out the faint silhouette of Noaya, his panicked movements betraying his desperation.
Branches claw at your clothes and face, but you push through, eyes locked on your target. The thrill of the chase ignites every nerve, propelling you forward with a singular focus. Suguru’s presence is a constant just behind you, his footsteps a steady reminder of the competition driving you both. You can hear his breaths, steady and calculated, mirroring your own.
The path twists and turns, the bamboo growing thicker, creating a claustrophobic tunnel. You duck and weave, dodging low-hanging branches and vaulting over fallen logs. The forest floor is uneven, riddled with roots and hidden pitfalls, but your reflexes are sharp, your movements instinctual.
The thrill, the excitement, the danger—it all converges in this moment. You are a predator in your element, and your prey is within reach. The bamboo forest seems to blur around you, time stretching and contracting with each heartbeat. This is what you live for, the ultimate test of skill and nerve, the ultimate game of life and death.
Just as you’re about to close the distance, your fingertips brushing the fabric of Noaya’s shirt, he whirls around with surprising speed. The moonlight catches the gleam of his hunting knife as it arcs through the air. Instinct takes over, and you try to dodge, but the blade slices across your palm, leaving a hot, stinging line of red in its wake.
For a split second, time seems to slow. You see the wild desperation in Noaya’s eyes, the way his chest heaves with exertion and fear. But there’s no pain, only a white-hot fury that floods your veins, fueling your next move.
Your grip tightens around the hilt of your own knife, slick with blood but steady. The cut on your palm feels like a mere scratch compared to the surge of adrenaline that courses through you. With a fierce snarl, you lunge forward, using the momentum to drive Noaya back a step.
He stumbles, his confidence faltering as he realizes the severity of his mistake. You don’t give him a chance to recover. You move with a predatory grace, every muscle coiled and ready to strike. The forest around you fades into a blur of green and shadow, all your focus locked on the man in front of you.
Noaya swings wildly, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. You sidestep his attacks with practiced ease, your fury giving you a sharp, clear edge. The scent of blood mingles with the earthy aroma of the forest, and your pulse pounds in your ears like a war drum.
You close the distance again, this time with a calculated precision. Your free hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until the knife clatters to the ground. Noaya yelps in pain, his eyes widening in terror. The tables have turned, and he knows it.
Your injured hand, still bleeding, clamps down on his shoulder with a vice-like grip. You lean in close, your breath hot against his ear. “Nice try,” you hiss, the fury in your voice making him shudder. “But it’s over.”
With a swift, brutal motion, you plunge your knife into his chest. The blade sinks into flesh with a sickening thud, and Noaya's eyes widen in shock and agony. Blood spurts from the wound, hot and sticky, spraying across your face in a macabre mist. The initial strike is met with a gasp, a desperate, choking sound that fuels the savage fire within you.
A wicked grin spreads across your face, the thrill of dominance electrifying your senses. You pull the knife out, feeling the resistance of tissue and bone, and then plunge it in again, and again. Each thrust is accompanied by a wet, squelching sound, a symphony of carnage that drowns out the world around you. Blood flows freely, pooling at your feet and soaking into the earth.
Noaya’s body jerks and spasms with each stab, his strength fading with every violent assault. His once panicked eyes grow dull, the life draining from them as you continue your relentless attack. The coppery tang of blood fills the air, mingling with the scent of the forest, creating a heady mixture that makes your pulse race even faster.
You lose yourself in the rhythm of the violence, the way your muscles strain and flex with each plunge of the knife. Blood splatters across your face and clothes, warm and viscous, painting you in the evidence of your victory. Your grin widens, a feral expression of triumph and fury.
Amidst your frenzied stabbings, Suguru places a hand on your shoulder. "I think—" he begins, but when you turn around to face him he immediately shuts up.
Your eyes are wide, pupils contracted like a deranged predator. Your hair flows wildly in the wind as you grab Suguru's throat with your bloody hand, smearing the crimson on his skin and pressing him against a tree. 
"This woman-killer fucker is mine." You seethe.
His dick strains against his cargo pants waistband. You look divine.
“ Of course, All yours baby.” He coos.
~
Geto Suguru would be lying if he said that watching you tear apart that woman-killer wasn't the hottest thing he had ever seen. 
To Suguru, you looked divine. The moonlight accentuated the sharp angles of your face, casting shadows that danced across your blood-splattered skin. Your eyes, wild with the remnants of fury, glowed with an unearthly intensity. The contrast of crimson against your complexion made you seem otherworldly, a dark goddess of vengeance. Suguru couldn’t tear his eyes away, mesmerized by the raw, primal beauty you exuded in that moment.
The walk back to your hotel was silent, but not because you were soaked in blood or because he felt awkward. More like it was because the only think he could think to say is “You are so fucking hot.”
Now here he is, twiddling his thumbs as he stands outside of your hotel door, trying to think of the right thing to say to you because god he needs to see your face one last time before he goes to bed.
He raises his hand to knock, but before he can, the door swings open. You stand there, your hair wet and smelling faintly of vanilla. You’ve clearly just come out of the shower. A tank top clings to your damp skin, and sports shorts hug your thighs. His eyes widen slightly, and he gulps, struggling to keep his composure. 
No bra.
The sight makes his mouth go dry.
"Just checking to see if everything is good," he says, nodding toward your bandaged hand.
You feel yourself fidget in your place and you try to flash a small smile but your emotions betray you. What if you freaked him out? What he saw back there, what you did back there, that was you, the raw you. Behind all the layers of kind smiles and pleasantries, in many ways, you were no different than an animal, consumed by your predatory instincts. You wouldn't blame him if he never contacted you again after this. Shit, did you just fuck up everything?
 His presence fills the doorway, and you’re acutely aware of the tension between you two.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you reply, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Thanks for asking.”
His eyes flicker down to your hand, then back up to meet yours. “How’s the hand?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.
You hold it up and wiggle your fingers slightly. “It’ll heal. No big deal.”
Silence fills the void between you two and you clear your throat, searching for something to say to break the awkward silence, but he beats you to it.
“Mind if I come in?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans against the doorframe. “Or are you planning to keep all the fun out here in the hallway?”
You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Sure, come in. But I warn you, it’s a mess.”
“I’m sure I can handle it,” he quips, stepping inside. His eyes scan the room, taking in the organized chaos. Bandages and clothes are scattered around the floor and he doesn't miss the splatter of blood on the white sheets of the hotel bed. After a moment, Suguru turns around and takes a step closer to you, like he’s examining you. 
You tilt your head slightly, letting a smirk play on your lips. "So, now that I’ve won the bet, what do I get?"
He chuckles, the sound low and smooth, as he takes another step closer, closing the distance between you. "I was wondering when you’d bring that up." 
You arch an eyebrow, trying to keep your composure despite the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. "Well? I’m waiting. What’s my prize?"
Suguru stops just inches from you. "I don’t know," he quips, "What do you want?"
You let out a short laugh, though it’s clear you’re testing him now. "That’s a big question."
Suguru's eyes darken slightly, his playful demeanor shifting into something more serious, more intense. He leans in just a fraction, his breath warm against your skin. "Try me."
The tension between you two is palpable, electric. You’re the first to break the silence, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "I want," you pause, averting your gaze from Suguru’s hawkish one. “I want to know if I scared you.” The question slips out before you can stop it, your bravado faltering as doubt creeps in.
Suguru blinks, then a slow smile spreads across his face. "Scare me?" He repeats, as if the idea itself is laughable. He steps even closer, forcing you to take a step back until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. "Scare me?” He repeats again. “You didn’t scare me," he continues, his voice low and sincere. "You… captivated me. I have never, and I mean never, seen something so magnificent as what you did. And that's saying a lot because I've done a shit ton of magnificent things.”
You sit down on the bed, more out of necessity than choice, as he looms over you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you feel a mix of emotions—relief, curiosity, and something much more dangerous.
"What are you doing?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as he leans in, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you in place.
He smiles, a slow, almost wicked grin that sends shivers down your spine. "Well, I thought I might kiss you now, you know, after telling you how magnificent you are.” He tilts his head. “Is that a bad idea?"
Your breath catches in your throat as the weight of his words sinks in. You forget to breathe.
You finally find your voice, though it’s a bit shakier than you’d like. "That depends…"
"On?" He asks, his face inching closer to yours, his gaze locked onto your lips.
"On how good you are at it," you murmur.
He doesn’t need any more encouragement. Suguru closes the remaining distance, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s as intense as it is tender. It’s a slow, deliberate connection, his hands moving to cradle your face as if you’re something precious, something worth savoring.
The kiss deepens, and all the tension that had been building between you two finally snaps, leaving nothing but raw desire in its wake. You respond in kind, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as if you can’t get enough.
When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, and the world seems to have shrunk down to just the two of you in this moment. Suguru’s forehead rests against yours, and he smiles, a real, genuine smile that you can feel in your bones.
"So," he says, his voice husky and low. "How was that?"
You laugh softly, still trying to catch your breath. "Not bad," you admit, your fingers running through his black hair. "Not bad at all."
"Good," he replies, his lips brushing against yours in a whisper of a kiss. "Because I plan on doing it again."
Suguru’s lips are on yours again before you can even catch your breath, this time more insistent, more demanding. He’s not asking for permission anymore; he’s claiming what he wants, and it makes your head spin. The kiss deepens as his tongue slips past your lips, exploring your mouth with a slow, deliberate intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. You can taste him—warm, intoxicating—and you find yourself leaning into his lips, craving more.
His hand, warm and firm, slides down your side, tracing the curve of your waist before coming to rest between your thighs. The touch is electrifying, sending a jolt of sensation through you, and you gasp against his mouth, your heart pounding in your chest.
But it’s too much, too fast. Your mind races, and you instinctively pull back, breaking the kiss. “Wait,” you murmur, your voice breathless, “I dont know if we should….” You avert your gaze and turn your head toward the wall but Suguru grabs your chin, forcing you to look right into his hazel eyes. Then, he dips his head to whisper in your ear.
“Aw come one Y/n” He grazes your earlobe with his teeth. “I’ve been on my best behavior, a good boy,” Suguru pauses to deliver a soft kiss to your temple. “I've been waiting, waiting ever since I met you in that cage to do this. Don't I deserve a reward for my patience?” 
You thickly gulp as he rubs the sides of your neck with his lips.
“I’ve been-” He kisses your jaw. “Such a-” he kisses his way up to your mouth. “Good boy.”
You cave. 
As his words sink in, you feel your resolve crumbling, the weight of his desire pressing down on you in the most intoxicating way. Before you can even process what’s happening, Suguru's strong arms wrap around you, lifting you off the bed with effortless ease. His grip is firm but gentle, as if he's afraid of breaking you, and you can't help but let out a soft gasp as he lifts you off the bed and up so your head rests on the plush hotel pillow. His eyes lock onto yours, dark with intent, and you feel your breath hitch as the world narrows down to just the two of you. The room is filled with the sound of your breathing, heavy and uneven, mingling with the quiet rustle of sheets as he leans over you.
“I know you have been thinking about this too.” He coos. Suguru’s hands move with a deliberate slowness, as if savoring the moment. His fingers curl around the hem of your tank top, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he begins to lift it. The cool air hits your skin as he pulls the fabric up and over your head, exposing you to his hungry gaze. But before you can feel self-conscious, his lips are on your newly exposed skin, pressing gentle kisses along your collarbone, his warm breath fanning over your skin.
“Gorgeous,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice filled with awe and reverence. “Just so gorgeous.”
His hands are on your shorts next, tugging them down your hips with the same careful slowness, as if he’s unwrapping the most precious gift. As the fabric slips down your legs, he trails kisses along the newly exposed skin, his lips brushing against your thighs, your knees, your calves, until the shorts are discarded on the floor.
Now you’re lying before him in just your underwear, and the way he looks at you makes your heart pound. His eyes are dark and intense, filled with a hunger that makes your entire body flush with heat. “You’re gorgeous,” he repeats, his voice thick with emotion. “Just so damn gorgeous.”
Suguru straightens up slightly, his hands moving to the hem of his own shirt. In one fluid motion, he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside, revealing his bare chest. The sight of him makes your breath catch—his body is lean and athletic, muscles defined and sculpted from years of discipline and training. Tattoos cover his skin in an elaborate tapestry. He’s handsome, impossibly so, and the sight of him like this, just inches away, makes your pulse quicken.
He doesn’t stop there. His fingers move to the waistband of his sweatpants, and he slides them down, revealing more of his skin, his strong legs, until he’s kneeling before you in just his boxers. The fabric clings to him in a way that leaves little to the imagination, and you can’t help but stare, mesmerized by the sheer physicality of him.
Suguru catches your gaze, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Something catches your eye princess?”
You nod, “Yes. You. All of you.” Your eyes tracing every line and curve of his body. He’s more than just handsome—he’s breathtaking, a perfect combination of strength and beauty that leaves you feeling weak in the best way possible.
He leans down again, his body hovering over yours, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Good, wouldn't want you to be disappointed.”
With that, he captures your lips in a heated kiss, his hands trailing down your sides, touching, feeling, exploring. 
You are too lost in the kiss not to notice his hands slipping under your underwear and making their way to your dripping cunt, and when they do, you jump at the feeling of his index finger tracing your slit.
"Gotta get you ready baby.?" Suguru hums and you shake you head vigorously.
"No please Sugu~, I can take it."
You don't have to tell him twice.
In one fluid motion Suguru tears off your underwear, lays you on your back and positions himself between your legs.
"Been waiting to do this for so long," he murmurs as he pulls down his boxers and whips out his dick. You thickly gulp at the sight, you could've guessed he was big not this big, could he even fit in you? A white bead of precum dribbled from his pretty pink tip and down his length and he uses the liquid to stroke himself in a few fluid motions.
You could hear your heart in your ears and adrenaline coursed through your veins at rocket fire speed. The need in between your legs was too much, it was clouding your head and twisting your stomach so tight you almost felt sick. You jolt when his fat tip bumps into your clit; collecting your juices before pressing against your quivering hole.
"Suguru please~" You whine and nearly miss the way his ears go bright red at your words
"I know baby, I know. Don't worry, lift your hips for me love?”
You oblige and immediately when you do so you're struck with the feeling of his length spreading you so helplessly wide and his tip smashing against something which must be your cervix you think. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides into you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, you're cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making Suguru let out a low groan of his own and pushing even deeper into you. 
“F-fuck I can feel you doing it to me,” he said hoarsely.
His fingers gently press into the skin of your hip, guiding and steadying you as he pulls back and thrusts into you. The sudden friction and collision with your G-spot knocks the wind out of your lungs. Ticklish pleasure courses through your veins and you immediately throw your head back against the wall as Suguru thrusts into you.
"Hnghh, s-so good~~" You whine. It was dizzying, the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up.
Simultaneously, his other hand sought yours, finding it with a purposeful tenderness. His fingers intertwined with yours, locking them together in a grip that was both a clasp and a caress.
You dont even realize that your eyes are closed until Suguru whispers into your ear.
“Come on baby, open those pretty eyes, look at me.”
You do as he says and when you do you feel your heart thud in your chest. Suguru’s eyes were fixated completely on you, how you were reacting, as his hips were continuously slamming into your body as if it were clockwork. The sight alone had your walls clamping down on him, earning a groan from the base of his chest. 
Suddenly, the hand that had been intertwined with yours released its grip and began to rummage through Suguru’s discarded pants. Your breath hitched, eyes glazed over as you watched him retrieve a knife from his pocket, unsheathing it effortlessly with a flick of his finger. The sharp glint of the blade caught your attention from beneath Suguru’s body, even as he continued thrusting into you, not missing a beat.
Your body reacted instinctively, clenching at the sight, drawing a low, dark chuckle from Suguru.
“Hah, I knew it,” he said, his voice laced with a teasing edge as he brought the cold steel to the base of your throat. “You’re just a slut for knives, aren’t you?”
A moan escaped your lips, the sound betraying any chance of denial. Suguru took it as an admission, pressing the blade firmly against the skin of your throat as he angled his hips to hit even deeper inside you. The cool metal at your throat was electrifying, but it was his other hand, strong and unyielding, that sent a euphoric thrill coursing through you. His fingers flexed, tightening around your neck, the pressure intensifying.
It wasn’t just the air being cut off—it was the dizzying, intoxicating pleasure that came with it. The way his grip constricted, pushing you to the edge of control, ignited something raw inside. Every squeeze of his hand made your body burn hotter, a perfect balance between pain and pleasure, leaving you gasping for more.
What a primal dirty sight you where, being choked with a blade against your throat while fucked brutaly. Even the devil would clutch his rosaries.  
"Were we doing it like this in your head baby?" Suguru grunts, his Adam apple bobs as he groans from the pleasure of how fucking heavenly your pussy feels. “Because we were doing it like this in mine.” Good? Try euphoric, how could he ever think his fist could substitute the wet squeeze of your cunt?
You can't even open your mouth to respond. The friction of his dick against your walls and the adrenaline from the knife is just too good and as his pace intensified, a dizzying warmth spread through you, filling every corner of your being with a euphoric haze. The sensation of being completely enveloped, utterly connected, sent electric flesh arrows of pleasure through your body, making your eyes flutter and roll back slightly in sheer bliss. Every motion Suguru makes, every time his fat tip collides with your cervix, leaves behind a trail of sparkling heat that seems to light you from within.
"Come on eyes on me when I fuck you baby~" Suguru releases his hold from your neck and snakes his fingers between your body , finding your clit and pressing down on the pearl back and forth with the pad of index finger. "Tell me how good you feel, tell me how badly you want to cum.
He doesn’t slow the ministrations on your clit for a second as he snaps his hips into you with primal vigor, your breasts bouncing from the brutality.
"So good Sugu!" You sob. You cant even open your eyes from the colors you're seeing behind your lids. Every time your pussy squeezes around him not only do bolts of pleasure shoot up your body but a ring of milky white cum forms around the base of his cock.
Suguru’s eyes are locked on how good you're taking him - the fat of his head has a hard time popping out with how greedy your cunny is being. He lets out a sharp moan at how wet you are on the inside.
"S-shit baby wanna feel you cum on me, been waiting so long." Suguru is not a whining man but here he is practically stumbling over his words. Fuck, he wants to keep himself inside you forever. He wants your kisses, your skin, your touch, your blood, your lips, to be his to claim until you die together. No one has seen, truly seen him, before you. You are what he thinks about when he wakes up, when he is eating, when he is plunging his knife into some worthless monkey. You are his goddess. 
The world beyond this intimate cocoon of warmth and breath seemed distant, irrelevant. His gaze was locked with yours, deep and unwavering, a silent communication that tethered you through the mind numbing ecstasy.
Then, he reels his hips back and slams into you in a new angle that has your body jerking.
“Found it didn't I?” He breathes through a smile and pummels into you with vigor. And your about to disagree with him, insist that the feeling is too new and foreign to feel good when all of a sudden your body begins to shake and your head starts to feel fuzzy
And suddenly—you feel it. What you’ve been craving for and what you have seen in porn.
Its like all your body's energy centers are activating at once and your left utterly helpless to the feeling of tingling ecstasy wrapping your brain and stomach.
You dont know how to tell him that something is happening, not when the pleasure is too immense your barely breathing full breaths. But he understands once again the words you tried desperately to communicate.
“Do it baby. Cum. I’ll fill you up, and if it spills I'll fuck it back into you"
So you do.
Release washed over you in an all-encompassing wave, radiating out from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes. It swept through you like a storm, leaving a trail of starbursts in its wake. Your body arched instinctively, clinging to Suguru as the wave crested, then gently, slowly, began to ebb.
“Ah, princess, please,” he moaned. “Be a good girl and take it all, yeah?” 
Your fingers trailed up his shoulder, only to drag them back down his spine, nails biting into his skin as he buried himself deep inside you, releasing with a powerful shudder. His movements grew erratic, hips pressing yours firmly into the mattress as his hot breath skimmed across your neck, ragged and heavy.
The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this moment, lost in each other, with nothing but the sound of your breathing and the feel of his touch to guide you.
The warmth of his cum spreads through your body with a shiver, and you can feel the liquid expanding against your walls while he kept you plugged and full of him. As you both floated back down from the heights of bliss, your breaths came easier, softer, the lingering aftershocks of pleasure pulsing gently through you.
"You're mine ok?" Suguru coos, and all you can do is dumbly nod.
"I'll die for you, I'll kill a thousand monkeys for you, i'll hold them down so you can cut our their eyes. Just stay by my side."
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bluetimeombre · 3 months ago
Text
ׂׂૢ Hugh and you are WIRED,
You and Hugh take part in the Wired autocomplete interview
[this has been sitting in my drafts collecting dust, enjoy! Not proof read, just the vibes]
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'Hello, I am Hugh Jackman,' he smiled at the camera.
'And i'm Y/N.'
'And we're doing the autocomplete interview,' he said.
You smile at how he tried his best. 'The WIRED one,' you added.
Hugh looked back to you. 'Oh yeah.' he laughed and apologised to the crew. 'I'll hold, you peel and read and I'll answer,' said Hugh, taking the board that started with him.
You leaned back in your chair, eyes peering at him. 'So, I do all the work and you sit there, ok, yeah, that's fair.'
He chuckled as you peeled away the first question.
'Is Hugh Jackman Australian?' you read, screwing up the paper and chucking it behind you. 'Um, no, he's not. It's all a bit he does, it's incredible he's kept it up for years,' you answer for him.
Hugh laughed. 'I am, I am Australian,' he insisted.
You shook your head, nudging him friendly. 'Such a good actor. Is Hugh Jackman retired?'
'No, just old,' said Hugh.
You chuckle before looking at the camera. 'He said he was retired but that was a lie,' you poke fun at the amount of times he said he'll never do Logan again... but did Logan again. 'He's a lair like I said- a good actor.'
You rip the next one off. 'Is Hugh Jackman... a good singer? Uh yes!'
'Thank you, there you go,' nodded Hugh.
'He's such a good singer,' you boast, holding his knee. 'Les mis, Oklahoma, The greatest showman.'
'That's where we met,' he smiled. The two of you did meet during the filming of The Greatest Showman.
You smiled back at you. 'We did. Yeah, highly recommend having Hugh Jackman sing to you, it's-it's magic.'
You do a couple more questions before finishing his first board and letting Hugh break it over his knee before chucking it away. 'Oh woah. You know, people would pay to have that done to them.'
Hugh laughs. He takes the board meant for you and peels the first away. 'I've got it love, let me. Is Y/N dead?'
'Starting off strong here,' you said. 'Um, only on the inside.'
Hugh chuckled. 'That's horrible,' he said through his laughter.
'Don't worry babe, I'm still here. Alive and kicking,' you mumble off.
Hugh eventually peeled away the next one. 'Ok, is Y/N in Wolverine origins.'
'No, thank god,' you said as Hugh, again, keeps laughing. 'No, I do not appear in that movie. But a version of my character does for like ten minutes. And i'm sure it was the better ten minutes of the movie.'
'I won't argue with that,' said Hugh.
'So it wasn't me but another actress playing my character.'
'Right, not confusing at all,' said Hugh. 'Just don't think about it really. Yeah. Right, is Y/N a billionaire? If she was, I would've married her by now,' said Hugh.
You laugh, rocking back and forth. 'Now I really need to reach that billionaire status,' you said.
Hugh's board was next.
'Ok, how Hugh Jackman got jacked?' you read, looking over to him. 'How did the Jackman jack?' you asked, the question coming out a bit more on the naughty side than you intended.
The both of you looked at each other promiscuously.
You held up a finger. 'Maybe I should have worded that differently.'
'Yeah,' he chuckled. 'Um, I basically was miserable for six months. No I'm kidding, a lot of training and boiled chicken.'
'Yum! How tall is Hugh Jackman?'
'6'2- 6'3,' he hummed, thinking about it.
'Do you think people are asking cause they're angry you're not 5'3 like Wolverine should've been in the comics?' you asked.
Hugh's face straightened. 'Why'd you have to bring that up?'
You chuckle, peeling away another one. 'What is Hugh Jackman.., made out of?' he laughs as you whisper to the camera. 'Boyfriend material.'
'Is that actually what it says?' he turns the board, checking it. It really did. 'Oh woah. I assume the interweb means the Adamantium in Logan?'
You snorted. 'The interweb, is that what you just called it?'
'Isn't that what the cool kids call it these days?'
You shake your head and toss his board behind you without sparing a thought.
Hugh stared after it. 'Is that how you treat all yours lovers?'
You purse your lips, trying to hold in a laugh. 'It's just a board, babe, you're the real thing.' You picked up the next board for you and handed it to Hugh who was peeling the first one away immediately.
'How is Y/N... oh it ends there. Well, that's very nice, how is Y/N?' Read Hugh, answering before you got the chance. 'She's very well, er, cause she's with me. Next one. Is Y/N single? What a good question.'
Next to you, Hugh was grinning like a mad man, or a man who knew a secret. Or just like an idiot in love. Any of them worked as you just stared back at him. 'Um, you'd have to ask her,' you said, trying to do what you did best and avoid questions.
'We are asking you, c'mon, the people want to know, are you single?' Hugh teased.
You shook your head with pursed lips. 'You know, Y/N is...' you trailed off, mumbling incoherently under his breath.
Hugh chuckled before looking into the camera. 'His name rhymes with Pugh Ackman.'
'Ryan Reynolds, of course!' you say, peeling off the next one yourself. 'Ok, is Y/N in marvel movies? um yes, a few.'
'Most,' Hugh corrected. 'If not all,'
'Yeah, i've done a few in my time,' you answered. 'Started when I was like, sixteen now i'm,' you pretend to count on your fingers, freaking out when you realised the numbers were high. 'Anyway, Hugh's turn!'
'Ok, i'll peel now,' said Hugh, giving you the board.
'Oh thank you, give my poor nails a break,' you said.
'Does Hugh Jackman... smell nice?' he leant over to you and you took an inhale.
You shrug. 'Yeah, he's alright.'
He chuckled and made a gesture at you before going onto the next one. 'Does Hugh Jackman, my name is falling on deaf ears I think now, does Hugh Jackman do all his own singing?'
'Yes, he does!' you yell. 'He's a great singer guys, no debate.'
'No cap!' added Hugh.
'Oh jesus,' you hide your face and laugh into it.
'What?' asked Hugh.
Eventually you moved onto peeling the next one. 'Does Hugh Jackman have tik-tok?'
You laugh too loudly. 'No, could you imagine if he did? I have to help him out with instagram for gods sake.'
'That's true, I do not know what the tik, nor the tok is,' said Hugh. 'Ok, last one on this board. Does Hugh Jackman do all his own stunts? No.' he threw the board.
'That was an easy answer,' you scoff. 'Do you want to tell us why?'
Hugh thought about it. 'No.'
'Alright then, my turn,' you said.
Hugh took the board before you could, not letting you hold it or do your own peeling. 'Alright, ready? Does Y/N do all her own stunts, aw, we're matching.'
You laugh. 'Um, I try to,' you answer. 'I try to, I really do but some are just too dangerous. Like I'm legally not allowed to jump from a building into a dumpster or walk away from an explosion.' You give Hugh a look, referencing that scene in Wolverine origins which he cringed at.
'Does Y/N write her own songs in The Greatest Showman? Can I answer this?' Hugh asked you.
You lean back. 'Only cause I know you're going to gush at me, so go ahead.'
Hugh got his answer ready. 'So when Y/N came on the project, it was only a half developed idea- if that. And I'd seen her at an Oscar's party and we started chatting and I asked if you were interested in this little project we were doing, you immediately came on board and started writing songs for this. I think, in total you wrote, what was it four- five?'
'Five I think,' you nod.
'Five of the greatest songs on that movie. Honestly, hearing it live and in the workshops was just, the best thing i've ever heard,' Hugh looked back at you, a loving smile on his lips.
You pout and rest your head on his shoulder. 'God that Pugh Ackman is a real nice guy.'
Hugh laughed and pecked your forehead. 'Does Y/N enjoy being in the avengers?'
'I do yeah,' you answer. 'I think there's like a lot of talk that when you stop playing a role you're supposed to come out and say you hated it, but I loved it. And I still love it. And I'll always love it.'
Hugh held up a hand. 'That being said. She would love being in the X-men more.' He waited for you to reply but you didn't and just stared at him. 'Ok, never mind. Anyway. Does Y/N drive?'
'Absolutely,' you nod. 'I've got the speeding tickets to prove it.'
'Ok, so these are your last boards,' said the lady behind the camera.
Hugh frowned. 'Oh, i'm having fun,' he said, taking his board.
You shrug. 'We'll just have to google ourselves at home more often.'
Hugh agreed and peeled the next ones, these questions beginning with 'Why'. 'Why Hugh Jackman, returned as Wolverine?'
'Good question, liar,' you said.
'Well, at first, you know, I wasn't going to, I really wasn't,' he spoke, looking to you as if cameras weren't pointing at you. 'But then this Ryan... Gosling guy? I think that's his name. He just kept asking and asking, turning up at my house, he got my number, I don't even know how-'
'Yeah, sorry about that,' you added.
Hugh laughed before carrying on. 'Eventually you know, he waved a bag of cash in my face and I knew, just to get him off my tale, I had to.'
'Yeah, that sounds like a Ryan Gosling move.'
'Why didn't Hugh Jackman win an Oscar?'
'Guys, that's mean,' you tell the camera.
'Thank you, interweb for reminding me I didn't win an Oscar,' said Hugh. 'Well, listen, when you find out you're up against Daniel-Day Lewis, you kinda know not to prepare a speech. And then when your publicist the next day calls and says yeah don't worry, you- you don't worry.'
'You were robbed for Logan,' you mused.
Hugh agreed with a chuckle. 'She's my number one fan. Why Hugh Jackman ran naked?'
You perked up. 'Hello, he what?'
The crew laugh at your excitement.
'It was for X-men two... well, I feel like every X-men movie I strip down,' said Hugh. 'Thinking about it.'
'Got to get that watch rate up,' you said.
'Yeah, exactly. So I did a scene in X-men two where I was running the corridor after just finding the metal in my body and the claws,' he explained, again only looking at you.
You nod, like it was the first time you were hearing the story. 'As you do.'
'And then I turn the corner and the entire crew of women are just there waving dollar bills and I, on reflex, went to cover myself you know and then I cut myself.'
You seethed in pain. 'And then you did it for Wolverine one and two and the next X-men movie,' you listed.
Hugh nodded. 'Then I never stopped.'
'Why would you?' you asked, raking your eyes up and down him and winking.
The last board up was yours.
'Ok, let's go,' said Hugh, scraping at the board. 'Why Y/N is famous?'
You laughed.
'Because she's fucking talented!' said Hugh, 'why wouldn't she be famous?'
You shrug. 'It was gonna happen one way or another. I became famous because I wanted money. And Hugh Jackman, one of them i've got, the other i'm still working on.'
Hugh grinned, wriggling his brows. 'Why did Y/N win an Oscar? Oh, you won one,' he joked, glaring at you as you laughed. 'Lucky you.'
You read the question again. 'I mean- that feels almost condescending you know like oh she won an Oscar, why?'
Hugh stared and pointed at the camera again, repeating himself. 'Because she's fucking talented! Why wouldn't she win an Oscar?'
'I won best actress for a movie called Room, which was very tough, very well written annnndddd I deserved it,' you shrug.
'Why did Y/N marry Hugh Jackman?' he gasped. 'You married him?'
'I have not yet, but I am engaged to Pugh Ackman, so um, please, feel free to send us gifts,' you say causing Hugh to drop the board and laugh. 'Um, I really need a new toasted and he likes watches.'
'Oh, he sounds like a nice guy,' said Hugh.
'He is, he's great.'
taglist (thank you!): @oatmilkriver, @angstdaddy, @chronicallybubbly, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @th3mrskory, @wolfyychan, @chaimshelii, @wolviesgirl @haytchee, @aoi-targaryen
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mellowwillowy · 11 months ago
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"Stop the wedding!!"
So you get to see NRC food fighting RSA in the end lol Yan! NRC vs Yan! RSA x GN Isekai'd Player (Self-aware)
All the people inside the cafeteria turned their attention to you, an isekai'd player.
"(Name)!!" Idia beamed in tears, finally someone saving him! ... wait, someone? Oh no no no no! You are not just 'someone'!! Why did he even bother troubling you to this extent? He should have just kissed the bride!!!
"Make it right in time, you got me, Ace?" "Thank you for kicking me like a barrel toward the ghosts, pal," Ace replied dejectedly but posed no annoyance at all.
"Potato, since when do you have the funds to get yourself such a nice suit?" Vil questioned as he inspected your overall. The makeup and hairdo were not done to the utmost perfection but he can let it slide because anything on you equals absolute beauty.
"Oh, this? So you are smart enough to realize Crowley won't cover MY suit! I mean, he was trying teeth and nails to not let me join Ace and Co!"
"At least he does something right for the first time," Leona added. "White suits you though I thought you'd surely go with Black as usual?" Trey cocked his head to the side questioningly.
"Look, this is what Neige lent me. And all his attires are almost pristine white! I'm telling ya'!" At that statement, you saw Vil twitch despite not being able to move, he must have been very pissed at the mention of Neige's name alone.
"Originally I planned on taking Cheny'a's but I realized how eccentric his taste is so I decided to go with Neige. The RSA students are kind enough to assist Neige in tailoring it to my size too! Got them right in time before Crowley could shoo me!"
"Dude, even the RSA knows how to respect them, I don't know if I should be angry or nah but it certainly leaves a bad aftertaste seeing them wearing what RSA makes for them." Cater whispers something to the person next to him, inaudible to your ears.
"What do you say if we steal the suit and then burn it down in front of them after we are done here? I'd like to give them a nice thank you hug too while we are at it." "And we should leave them some of my... flowers collection too. This alone should be enough to show our gratitude right?"
"I'd say we should try giving them a proper form of token of gratitude too, how about Master Lilia's cooking?" Sebek added with a grin, he had his fair share of Lilia's cooking to the point he'd like to share it with the others.
"Oh? Then I'd have to make sure to add extra 'love' into it." He replied, this time intending to poison people so its horrifying taste was multiplied at natural without him realizing it.
"Wait, why would we even bother giving them a handmade cooki-" Jack was immediately silenced by Cater's eerie smile. He had his fair share and he knew they meant nothing well from it at all.
"Hey Ace, do something! Stop throwing all your work on prefect!" Deuce yelled by the sideline, ready to chew his ears off.
"I agree, you shouldn't let someone magic-less handle this handful situation alone, get a hold of yourself right now will you, Ace?" Azul scowled and started to usher Ace into work.
"Dude! Now all of you are cornering me?" "You haven't finished, Ace?!"
And Riddle's voice was all it took to make Ace cowered like a puppy. Rook shook his head in disappointment, this had taken way longer than the original gameplay.
"Hurry! We should wrap things up as though we are changing a dirty tablecloth into a new one!" Epel yelled out rather... unique lines. Was he trying to be as poetic as Rook? If anything, both Rook and Vil said nothing regarding this.
"Riiiiighhhhtttt, I'm kinda checked out now, to be honest." Idia's eyes immediately widened, not you too?!
Just before the other could chant another "Smooch the bride", you immediately lunged toward the bride. All those gym class training paid off! Basically, this and that until the ghost inflated.
And instead of Rook ordering you and Epel around, you took the steering wheel before anyone could. "Move yer' ass you glorified wood logs! Move move move!"
The lucky person is the person who gets to feel you dragging them. Absolute win!
--
"Urgh, I'm so gonna have phasmophobia now." Idia rolled his eyes as the ghosts departed but to be honest? He was happy to see you barging into the cafeteria like a knight in shining armor for him! (It was mostly the others fighting lol)
Idia was taken by surprise the moment your hand smacked his back. "Would you look at it, the star of the show, a handsome groom adorned in black! You look positively breathtaking, senior Idia."
"Eep-! Oh no, they have graced me with their words that are enough to deafen me! What should I do? How should I show them just how grateful I am to be even considered by them???"
"What did you say? I couldn't hear you really well." "Well, brother said that-" "N-n-no! Nothing! I uh... am thankful... for your assistance." He answered bashfully, his hair tip turned into a shade of pink.
"Now now potato, it's time to change, wearing that must have been uncomfortable right?" Vil immediately pulled you away from the pink introvert. "No...? Neige said that it's meant to be comfortable and it's true!" "Well, we have something even wayyyy more comfortable for you, shrimpy! Come on now, let's take it off and dress you up in something else!"
--
Lilia was leading everyone with a basket of something, a speaker in one hand and Neige's suit in the other hand, "Hey you RSA whippersnappers! Get down!"
The head mage was coincidentally away that day and it allowed the NRC students to lead a protest in front of the academy's gate.
Lilia threw the white suit onto the ground while Leona whistled, signaling Rook to shoot an arrow of fire toward it like an Olympic grand opening. (What a duo.)
"Yeah! Eat this you good for nothing!" Cater and Ruggie immediately took out the pie from Lilia's basket and threw it right onto the students' face. Kalim was generous enough to sponsor lots of baking materials for Lilia with Jamil assisting with the baking. It was badly burnt but still hard as a rock.
Cheny'a was careful enough to avoid Trey and Riddle while Vil was feeling rather generous in feeding Neige~ Oh, and Malleus is always bullseye in his shots, hitting everyone down in no time. He was pretty pissed (sulking) that he was not invited to join your fun. Silver was not being merciful too, he didn't fall asleep at all during this whole thing!.
Rollo was feeling rather grateful but also sad that you did not come to him to ask for his help :( And Crowley just watched everything from the sidelines while praying that nothing bad will be sent to him after this. Well, he's happy with how bright his students are.
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starsenha · 2 months ago
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YAPPER / S.J
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Pairing ◊ fem!reader x bf!jake
Genre ◊ fluff, established relationship
Warnings ◊ mention of low social battery, jake overthinks a lot in this, introverted!reader x extroverted!jake
Word count ◊ 1k
Summary ◊ you and jake just started living together, and he had to get used to having an introvertes s/o.
a/n: this is so cute i'll die
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The apartment was quiet, a comfortable contrast to the usual hum of Jake’s chatter. You’d been living together for just a few weeks now, but it already felt like home. Jake's energy filled the space—warm, playful, constant—much like a puppy that couldn’t contain its excitement. His endless chatter was something you loved about him, the way he could talk for hours about anything, whether it was the latest indie band he discovered or his theories about the origins of the universe.
But today was different.
You sat at the kitchen table, your laptop in front of you, but your fingers hovered over the keys, unmoving. The day had drained you. You had been running on empty, your social battery flickering like a dying candle. It wasn’t anything that happened in particular. Just… people. The noise. The constant interactions. You craved silence in a way that felt almost physical, like you needed to wrap yourself in it to recharge.
Jake must have noticed.
He hadn’t been his usual self all day. His usual stream of conversation had trickled down to cautious comments, half-started stories that faded into silence when you didn’t respond the way you normally would. He gave you space, which was rare for him, but something you appreciated. You knew how much it took for him to quiet himself.
But as the hours passed, the air in the apartment grew heavier. You could feel it between you, like something unsaid, something tense. And you knew what it was. Jake was overthinking. You’d seen it before—he could mask it for a while, but eventually, it showed. The nervous fidgeting, the glances he thought you didn’t notice, the way he tapped his foot against the leg of the couch, an unconscious habit when he was deep in his thoughts.
You sighed, staring at your screen, knowing you should say something, anything, but the words felt stuck. You just needed a little more quiet. A little more time to recharge. But the silence was dragging on, and you knew Jake wouldn’t be able to take it much longer.
Eventually, as the sky outside began to darken and the city lights flickered on, you heard soft footsteps behind you. His approach was hesitant, unlike his usual bounding energy, and it made your chest tighten with guilt. You didn’t turn around, not right away, but you felt him hovering behind you.
“Hey, babe,” he said softly. His voice was gentle, tentative, as if he was afraid to disturb whatever fragile peace you had wrapped around yourself. “Can I, uh… Can I talk to you for a sec?”
You turned in your chair to look at him, and there he was—Jake, with his tousled brown hair that always seemed to be a little wild no matter how many times he ran his fingers through it, and those big, expressive eyes that were always so full of life. Except now, they looked… sad. His brows were knit together in concern, and there was this slight tremble in his bottom lip, like he was trying to keep it together.
“What’s up?” you asked, your voice coming out quieter than you intended.
“I just… I don’t know. Did I… did I do something wrong?” His voice wavered, and your heart clenched. “Like, I don’t know, you’ve been really quiet today, and I was thinking maybe I… I upset you somehow?” He took a step closer, his hand reaching out, hovering over your shoulder like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you. “If I did, I’m really sorry.”
You blinked, caught off guard. He was standing there with that look on his face—the one he always gave you when he thought he messed up, the one that made him look like a kicked puppy. His eyes were wide, his expression so heartbreakingly sincere.
“Jake,” you started, but he interrupted.
“No, seriously, if I said something or if I did something without thinking, I didn’t mean to. I’ve been trying to figure it out all day, but I can’t—” His voice cracked a little, and he looked away, biting his lip. “I just hate it when you’re upset, and I don’t know what I did.”
Your heart broke a little right then. He was always so in tune with your emotions, so careful with them. You reached out, gently grabbing his hand and pulling him closer. “Jake, you didn’t do anything wrong. I promise.”
He looked at you, his brows still furrowed, not entirely convinced. “Then… why? I mean, you’ve barely said anything all day. You’ve been… distant.”
You sighed, squeezing his hand. “It’s not you. It’s just… I’m drained. My social battery is completely dead, and I didn’t know how to say that without making you feel like I was upset or something. But it’s not you, okay? I just… needed some quiet.”
He blinked a few times, his expression softening, but there was still that little crease between his eyebrows. “Oh. Oh.” His shoulders relaxed a bit, and he looked down at your hands intertwined. “You could’ve told me that.”
“I know. I should have,” you said, guilt creeping in. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”
He shook his head, finally smiling a little. “No, it’s okay. I just… you know how I get.” He laughed softly, though it was a little self-deprecating. “I overthink everything. I just didn’t want to make things worse by being my usual… talky self.”
You chuckled, giving his hand a squeeze. “I love your talky self. I really do. I just… today was a lot, you know?”
“I get it,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Next time, just… tell me. You don’t have to worry about me. If you need space, I can give you space. I’ll just… go babble to the plants or something.”
That made you laugh, and the tension in the room seemed to dissolve. “Babble to the plants, huh?”
“Yeah,” he grinned, a little more of his usual energy returning. “They don’t seem to mind. Plus, they grow better when I talk to them, so win-win.”
You smiled, feeling lighter than you had all day. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Jake leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Just promise me you’ll tell me next time, okay? I’d rather know you’re just tired than sit around thinking I did something terrible.”
“I promise,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.
He smiled, pulling you into a warm embrace, and in that moment, you were reminded of why you loved him so much—his warmth, his patience, his understanding. Even when you were at your most exhausted, he knew how to bring you back.
"Good," he said softly, holding you close. "I love you, you know that?"
"I know," you murmured, resting your head against his chest. "I love you too."
And just like that, everything felt right again.
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arcadia-of-pluto · 3 months ago
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Casually calling them "daddy" LADS
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Word count; 1,913
Themes; slightly barely there suggestive content, fluff, established relationship
Warnings; mention of "daddy" ofc, fluff
Notes; So these turned out more fluffy than I originally intended...honestly, thought they'd be more smutty, but I've learnt that it's really difficult for me to write smut. Or at least, smut with little to no context before it all goes down. I might eventually write some smuttier drabbles, but regardless of smut, I hope you enjoy this little thing I wrote!
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You saw that there was an old trend about calling your boyfriend “daddy” and videoing their reaction so, obviously, you wanted to give it a try…
Xavier 
It's been almost a year since you and Xavier started dating– and it was a wonderful eleven months! He told you everything about himself. What his future with you was like, all of his feelings throughout the centuries, and you listened. You wholeheartedly believed him, because it would be one hell of a lie if it wasn't true…and you didn't think Xavier had the time or energy to come up with a complex lie like that. 
But even if you now know, time moves on. There's not much you can do about your future self, so you can't really change the future in that way though…Xavier's here now, in the past, and that's all that matters to you. 
Anyway, today was just a normal day as any. 
You were sitting at the counter, keeping a close eye on Xavier– who was attempting to follow, yet another, cooking tutorial. The man was desperate to cook a decent meal for you. His heart dead set on making you something edible for your upcoming year anniversary…and while that was cute, you also wanted to mess with him. 
You push your cup just out of your reach and make a big show of trying to reach for it, before sighing loudly. 
“Daddy, can you pass me my drink please?” 
You can hear the clang of a spatula hitting the floor and you watch Xavier’s body comically whip around to face you. 
“What?” His head cocks to the side as his wide eyes were set on your face. “Say that again..”
“Hmm? I said ‘Xav, can you pass me my drink, please’.” You copy his head tilt and he quickly shakes his head.
 “No, no you didn't.” He takes a few steps toward you before grabbing your hand in-between both of his. “Say it again.” 
You couldn't resist his sweet puppy dog eyes, so you hold back a smile as you meet his eyes. “I...called you daddy.” 
“Really?” He seems unusually excited. “So are we…?” His gaze lowers to your stomach and you can’t help the giggle that slips from your lips. 
Gosh, he was so cute. 
“Baby– no, no. We're not pregnant.” You run your fingers through his hair with a smile on your lips. “Are...you disappointed?” 
“Mmh..” Xavier hums thoughtfully for a moment before he shakes his head. “No. We can just make it a reality later. No need to rush.” 
Zayne 
You and Zayne have only been dating for six months, but it felt like much longer. Having known each other since you were little, you both had always been close– well, your definition of close and his were probably different. You always thought of him as a friend while he tried to keep a distance and thought you hated him. But time brought you both back together with him as your primary care physician. 
The two of you had been flirting up until his birthday and finally made it official once he blew his candles out on the cake you made for him. It was a sweet time, but that was six months ago. 
Now, though, you really want to fluster the man. 
He always embarrasses you and makes you feel nervous, but you never get to see him that way. Sure, his ears will turn red and sometimes he won't meet your eyes when you get too intense with him, but you've never seen him absolutely shocked. And you just wanted to see one look of surprise from him. 
So, what did you decide to do? 
You decided to casually call him "daddy” as a joke.
That should definitely go over well. 
Zayne is seated behind his desk at the hospital, sorting through papers as you longue on his sofa. Your eyes continuously glancing toward the windows to make sure the door was shut and the blinds were closed. 
“If you keep staring at the door, you just might burn a hole through it.” Zayne says, though he didn't even look up from his paperwork. He was attentive like that and probably already knew you wanted something or you were ready to go home. And he was right. 
“When are we going home…daddy?” You ask as you kick your feet in the air behind you. You were on your stomach, resting your cheek against your arms as you watched his expression…which didn't change at all. 
"Just give me a few more minutes, angel, and I'll be done.” Zayne pushes his glasses up with his index finger and clicks his pen, jotting down a few notes. 
“I–” You puff your cheeks out with a small sigh and decide to keep going with it. “I want to go home now, daddy.”
“Didn't I just tell you to be patient?” Now Zayne finally looks up at you with one of his brows raised. “I'll deal with you when we get home.” 
Rafayel 
It's been four months since Rafayel asked you out. Four months since you tugged Rafayel down into the bath with you, which set off a chain reaction of a steamy night, followed by him asking you out the next morning; he also complained that you both went out of order, but he wasn’t too upset when you continued where you left off…
Now, though, you moved out of your apartment and to Rafayel's home, ‘Mo Art Studio’ at Whitesand Bay. 
It was definitely odd at first, but it was a good change of pace. Always being by the ocean, able to take your morning walks together on the beach and collect seashells. You had a whole collection on your desk at work. He'd always give you the most unique and prettiest shells, saying “only the best for his cutie”. 
He was also so easy to fluster. 
You immediately knew you had him wrapped around your finger every time his ears would turn red. That same crimson slowly made its way from his ears to his cheeks, all the way to his whole face. So you assumed your little ‘prank’ would also have the same effect. 
You were sitting on a beach towel in the sand with an umbrella blocking your eyes from the bright sun. In front of you was Rafayel, painting your visage, with an easel. His hand deftly moves across the canvas as he sketches the outline for his new painting. 
Lately, you are the only thing he can paint. Always asking you to stop what you're doing so he can run and get his sketch pad. You could be doing something so normal and mundane, but he'd be struck with the inspiration to record your very image. 
As much as you loved it and thought this was very sweet, after almost two weeks of this…You wanted some form of payback. 
“Hey, daddy, can we take a break for a second? It’s really hot out here.” You squint your eyes to try and see Rafayel's face, your hand fanning at your body because you, seriously, are hot out here. 
“Huh?” 
It's like Rafayel is frozen in time, or buffering. He's just blankly staring at you with a confused expression on his face until his pencil drops into the sand. That's when he quickly stands up  and makes his way toward you. 
“Again.” 
Now, it's your turn to be confused. 
“Raf, what–” 
“Not that, say the other word again.” His ears were red as he crouched down in front of you, a look of determination in his eyes. 
“No– you're making it weird!” You put your hands on his shoulders, trying to put some distance between him as your face turns red. 
“Please, I really need to hear you say it again! I'm seriously going to die if you don't.” There's your overdramatic fishy. 
“Fine, but just this once.” You grumble, turning your head to look away from him. “Daddy…” Though you say it as low as you can and Rafayel groans, tilting his head back. 
“Louder.” He rests his forehead against yours. “Come on, cutie. If you don't…I might want to change that to my new nickname.”
Sylus
It's been about…a year? Yes, definitely a year since you and Sylus started dating. Well, you both have differing opinions on when exactly you started dating. Sylus claims it was the moment he laid eyes on you in the N109 Zone, while you claim it was only about six months ago– which is when you and Sylus made a bet. 
It was a bet where if he came back safely from his mission, he'd leave you alone. He wouldn't bother you anymore, wouldn't talk to you, contact you, anything of the sort…and you won, but you didn't realize he'd actually do it. So whenever you seeked him out to make sure he was safe, and he ignored you, you realized that maybe you did want him in your life. 
This led to you running across the street to him and jumping into his arms like this was a hallmark movie, and you claim this was when you officially started dating Sylus.
But between us, you just agree with Sylus when he says a year, because if you don't, he'll pout for the whole day. 
...And today was one of those ‘pouty Sylus’ days. 
You went on a mission that was probably way too dangerous, even though you told Sylus you were going to slow down on your Hunter's work. But you couldn't just ignore endangered civilians. If any of them would have died, that would've been too much for your sympathetic heart to handle. 
And even if Sylus understands your reasoning, he's still upset that you left without telling him– having woken up to a cold bed without you by his side sent him spiraling into a panic. 
So, when you got home, you noticed he was sulking in the kitchen as he made dinner. 
“Sy…” You take your shoes off by the door, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you tentatively walk into the kitchen. Standing behind the counter, you sigh, “I'm reeaally sorry...” 
“If you're reeaaally sorry, then help me make our dinner.” He says, not looking up at you and that doesn't make you feel any better. 
“Okay..” You finally step past the counter and you look around. “So…what do you need?” You were trying to figure out something– anything that could make Sylus feel better when a thought comes to your mind. 
Most guys probably like it when their girlfriend calls them daddy…right? 
“In the cabinet, top shelf. I need a bottle of garlic powder.” 
Okay, you got this. 
You take a deep breath and open the cabinet, straining your arm to try and reach the seasoning bottle, but your fingertips barely brush it and knock it over. “Shit…” You swallow back your nervousness before continuing, “Daddy, can you grab it for me?” 
The room fills with silence for a moment, but then you hear Sylus chuckle. 
“Sure, kitten.” 
Your back suddenly feels warm as a firm chest presses against it and Sylus reaches up from behind you to grab the bottle. 
“I ask you to do one simple thing and you can't even do that.” Sylus chides, clicking his tongue as he pops the bottle open to pour some into the pan on the stove. 
“Da–”
“If you think a few empty words will make me feel better, kitten…you've got to try a lot harder than that.” 
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I'd like to say, this is definitely one of my better drabbles– one of my favorites, in fact!
I have like...six more ideas for drabbles and then I'll need to come up with some more. Like these new cards and Rafayel's student photoshoot event really had me thinking of how seriously the LADS men would take roleplaying– and that spawned a whole different drabble idea, so you can definitely look forward to that!
I'm trying to come up with new ways to do my drabbles, so that's why I did a little prelude before I started writing for the guys. Please let me know any feedback yall have for me! Especially with the coloured dialogue, I'm not too sure if I like it, but it seems really pretty and probably makes it easier to tell who is talking apart. (I won't use it for my fic though, only the drabbles!)
Anyway, I have a small personal project I'm working on this weekend so I probably won't be able to write any chapters for my 'Divisa' fic, but I'm still going to post chapter nineteen of 'Twist of Fate' and try to write at least two more chapters since I'm only on twenty-three or so.
I hope you all enjoyed these drabbles and I hope yall have a great night/day! 🩷
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yuoimia · 3 months ago
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⊹ ࣪ ˖ HEY, HANDSOME
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summary: you’re shameless with your antics, and he hates loves it. characters: kinich & wanderer notes: fem + flirty reader, relationship is not established, but you’ve known each other for a while, wanderer’s is super short and messy bc i didn’t know how to execute my ideas well, wc: 580
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kinich
“Are you free next week?”
Kinich glanced up from the base of the tree to where you sat casually on one of the thick branches. Sunlight streamed through its delicate leaves, spilling onto your hair, casting a familiar shadow he breathed in the first time you two met.
He raised a skeptical eyebrow, eyeing you with suspicion. “What do you mean?”
“What does she mean!? Are you STUPID-“
A momentary flash of yellow and green materialised for a split second, not without the usual explosive expressions, before being promptly booted with the irritated flick of Kinich’s right hand.
“Stop smirking,” he sighed, not coming out nearly as stern as he intended. “Out with it, and come down; my neck is starting to hurt,” he continued, turning away, trying to seem as composed as possible. Not now; he cannot be succumbing to nerves and sweaty palms. Why was his mind so foggy? Absolutely no helpful excuses formulated in case he faltered any further.
You let out a disappointed huff. “Fine,” Kinich could almost sense the roll of your eyes from the back of his head. “Make sure to catch me.”
“Wait-“
It happened in a split second, his arms subconsciously reaching out as you slipped down with no hesitation.
Almost instantly, words of disapproval (which included his typical empty threats that he seemed to forget within the next ten minutes) bombarded your ears as one arm held you from the back of your knees, another supporting your back. “Imagine if I didn’t catch you…you need to think before you do things…”
“But you did either way,” you shrugged nonchalantly at his frustrated face, enveloping an arm around his neck to rest your chin on his shoulder. “So…you free next week?” you whispered conspicuously, adjusting yourself to face him properly. “I’m running out of ideas for commissions, you know?”
And you swear you’re hallucinating. You swear you might actually be delusional.
“What if I told you,” he mused at the intimacy of the shared closeness. “That you never needed the commissions for my attention in the first place?” he responded, holding back a smile.
wanderer
“You look terrible.”
The unexpectedly rash comment causes him to jolt his head upright, his eyes instantly meeting the owner of the familiar voice and malicious remark. A strange feeling washes over his body as he relaxes his posture almost completely, careful to avoid seeming too relieved.
“Likewise,” he countered, scanning you with a look of supposed disinterest. Except he wasn’t disinterested at all, thoroughly noting down your appearance and mannerisms. Loose ends of your braid had fallen out of their original position, a vibrant rosy blush below your cheekbones, likely from exhaustion the way your chest rose quicker than usual.
“…likewise?!” you gaped incredulously, seizing a mirror from a pocket of your jacket.
You’re the one that told me I looked terrible.”
“You know I didn’t mean that at all.”
“And you know that, too.”
“You’re supposed to say that you’re tired and hungry,” you muttered disappointingly, fixing your braid in the matter of a few quick movements.
Confusion flooded his mind at the sharp diversions in conversation topics. “Why would I need to say that?” he replied slowly, surveying your face with greater interest and intent, as if thinking that if he stared hard enough, the deepest secrets of your mind would be magically revealed.
A victorious smile and wink adorned your face as you extended a hand. “So I can offer you lunch, handsome.”
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thinkinonsense · 2 months ago
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Bewitched: The Rake and The Risk
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˖⋆࿐໋ james logan howlett ✦ bridgerton au series
bewitched masterlist
chapter two
cw: flirting (mix of 1800s and modern day), jealousy, old time thoughts of women and marriage, james is a slut
pairing: viscount!logan howlett x fem!reader
a/n: sorry this is later than intended! i try to aim for a new chapter every friday but college is kicking my ass right now. next chapter will be longer!! also!! if you want to be tagged for the bewitched series please comment on the original bewitched masterlist post linked above this<3 there are so many of you lovely readers who want to be tagged and i need a more organized way to find everyone to add. sorry for the minor inconvenience. i appreciate every one of you!!
main masterlist
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in all the twenty-nine years of knowing james howlett, lady chamberlain never would have pictured him coming to her home to ask about the eligible bachelorettes of the ton.
"what do you want to know, my dear?" lady chamberlain asked, sipping a cup of tea as the two of them sat in the living room.
"i am coming to you because as you know, my mother is expecting me to wed sooner rather than later and i was wondering whom might be the best women to seek out this season." james said, lying through his teeth.
if james really wanted to know who the best women this season were, he would've just opened the latest issue of lady cavanaugh. both of them knew this but it was more fun for lady chamberlain to tease the viscount.
"hm.." she smiles. "anyone in particular?"
"no."
the lie falls with ease. too much ease but lady chamberlain sees right through him.
"well, i did take note last night that the only lady you danced with was lady worthington's niece." she remarks slyly.
"the french girl?" he asks, playing coy. "i think i remember her."
lady chamberlain wasn't going to play games with the boy in front of her.
"i would hope so, you seemed quite fawned of her."
"i don't know if i would say that much."
"hm, so you don't want to know who she's planning to attended the mask ball with?" lady chamberlain smirks, knowing she's got him hooked.
everyone in the ton looked forward to the queens mask ball each season. it was the perfect way to help break the usual ice of finding 'the one'. that's where most couples tend to meet for the first time.
"let me guess..." james rolls his eyes. "prince harrison?"
lady chamberlain shrugs, placing her tea cup back on the dish. "the two of them talked quite a bit after you stormed off. she seems quite smitten with him."
"it's the first ball of the season. she has plenty of time to look for a better husband." he scoffs.
"well, dear... there are people who search their whole lives for something that's been right in front of them the entire time."
the elderly woman's words rang true in the room but james was far too in denial to notice them. instead, his ego was eating him alive. why would you not jump at the opportunity to be with the viscount?
˖⋆࿐໋
this afternoon was the queen's annual tea party. all the ton's debutantes gather to make friends and share their predictions for this season. anxiously, you paced the cobblestones outside, waiting for the carriage to pick you up.
"dear, it's not lady-like to pace back and forth." your aunt calls out from the doorway.
"my apologies," you reply, not stopping your feet.
"you're snagging the hem of your gown!"
thank heavens that the carriage was approaching. she waves you off, wishing you luck on your first adventure alone in the ton, wishing desperately she could join you.
your goal today is to make at least one friend. you'll even settle for an allied.
once you arrive at the queen's castle, you step inside. covered in soft pastels, flowers, and butterflies; you immediately feel calm. everyone is chatting and sipping tea at the tables. you sit down in the first available seat.
"you're the diamond, correct?" someone whispered next to you asks.
you turn your head to see a blonde girl to the right. she's wearing a soft yellow dress that doesn't quite fit her right.
"correct." you nod, offering the girl a smile to which she returns.
"shouldn't you be sat with the queen?" she asks, nodding to one of the beautiful girls surrounding the queen.
"probably but this was the first seat i saw." you joke, sipping on your tea.
the girl laughs with a small nod and introduces herself. her name is bridget and her father is a jewelry maker for the queen.
"i saw you dancing with the viscount last night at the ball." she smiles. "do you fancy him?"
almost choking on your tea, you shake your head.
"no, no, no. i don't fancy the viscount." you state.
bridget hesitates, watching your body language closely. the pressure gets you to speak up again.
"why do you ask?"
"because the viscount is a major rake."
the word rake rolls off her tongue with pure disgust. you'd never heard someone with such respect as a viscount be called something so dishonorable. rakes were known for their ability to seduce and lead on women with no promise of marriage.
"but he talks of his desire for a wife?" you question, more to yourself than to bridget but alas, she answers anyway.
"only because his mama is practically begging for a viscountess." bridget whispers.
you suppose this made sense due to the fact that most rakes never even intend to wed and after your conversation with james last night, he made it clear that marriage was not something he craved.
"trust me, you aren't the first lady to attempt to tie down the viscount. well, at least you have a shot since you're the diamond this season and all." the blonde girl rambles.
"oh, heavens no!" you repeat.
"hm, that's sad..." she sighs. "he is quite handsome."
"most definitely but i intend to wed for pure reasons."
"if that's truly the case, stay as far away from the viscount as possible."
˖⋆࿐໋
for the rest of the afternoon, bridget's words stuck to the front of your brain. if james wasn't so intolerable, perhaps he would make a good husband to someone.
once everyone finished with their tea, you decided to go sketch in wisteria park. the weather was beautiful outside and gave you the perfect inspiration needed to work on a new piece. normally, you would only draw on the sides of the letters written to your father back home. no one was more supportive of you than your parents. in a world where women mean nothing more than their wombs to society, it was rare to have parents who let their daughters have dreams.
sat on a patch of grass near the small pond, you set up your quill, small tray of paints, and paper. in the area where you decided to sit, across from you stood a beautiful cherry tree. as you work on the outline, you can hear footsteps approaching.
"i should've known i would find you here." a familiar voice says.
you don't even glacé up at the person near you, paying no mind to the man who seeks your attention most.
"do you want something, my lord?" you ask, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.
james' head spun every time those last two words fell from your lips, sounding to pretty the way that they roll of your tongue.
"you may call me, logan." he says. "if you so wish."
"logan?" you cock a brow, finally looking up at him.
"it's my middle name." he replies awkwardly.
"hm..." you pretend to ponder for a moment. "that's far too personal for me."
" 'too personal'? how might that be?"
james stands arms crossed against the cherry tree, glaring in your direction. you don't rush to answer his question instead you continue adding details to the branches and trees. he huffs under his breath, clearly irritated your lack of interest in him.
"well, we have no intentions to be together this season and we aren't friends so, there's no need for nicknames and such." you reply nonchalantly.
"you don't know my intentions"
a sweet giggle escapes you. james brushes off the warmth flooding his chest, rather focusing on topic at hand.
"oh, i bet i do."
suddenly, you drop your quill and give him your undivided attention.
"why are you even here, james?" you sigh.
"i was visiting an old friend this morning and wanted a stroll through the park."
"an old friend?"
the words left your lips before you could stop yourself. james was quick to notice the tone shift. he smirks, walking over to you and sitting on the grass to your right.
"mhm..." he hums.
"is she viscountess material?" you scoff, returning to your scribbles.
"and why would you care?"
why did you care? it's not like the two of you really know each other; yet, something about james made your blood boil. perhaps it was how he has a near perfect life and somehow still complains. he has no issues in finding a partner because everyone wants him. if he didn't have his head up his own ass, he would realize that.
"i don't."
"sounds like you do."
james liked watching your face scrunch up at little with dislike for him. how your pressure on the quill increases. how you avoid his gaze. how you pretend he doesn't exist next to you.
"i don't." you repeat. "i just cannot believe that someone like you is complaining about having to take a wife when all the women of the ton are smitten with you."
"someone like me?" james pretends to be offended but he was too busy enjoying this riled up version of you.
"someone who never gone with unmet needs, never struggled financially, never been under minded or overlooked." your words come out sharp but james doesn't let them cut deep.
"look, sweetheart..." he squints those hazel eyes, glaring deep into your soul and leaning in closer than he should've. "you know nothing of my families struggles."
"and you know nothing of mine."
james was so close to you. your noses almost touching before you pull away. being within his close proximity made you feel a foreign warm tingle deep in your stomach.
thank heavens that the park was empty, minus the two of you. the last thing you needed was for someone to see the two of you this close and label you as one of the viscounts mistresses.
"i-i must get going." you stutter, collecting your belongings.
"where are you off to?" he asks.
"i'm supposed to be accompanying lady chamberlain and prince harrison to dinner this evening."
his face scrunches with distaste at the mention of the prince. also, why would lady chamberlain hide this piece of information from him?
"isn't it quite early to prepare for dinner?"
"i must look perfect for the prince." you smile.
but not at james. you're smiling for that no good excuse of a prince who couldn't see that you already were perfect.
"you look fine to me." he huffs.
"it's vocabulary like that, that keeps you from finding a wife."
"and to think it was my insufferable personality that kept the ladies of the ton away."
it's difficult to hide the laugh you want to let out. instead you bite down on your cheek, not giving him the satisfaction of your laughter.
"ha ha ha." you mock dryly.
"do you always have a stick up your ass?"
james question makes your jaw drop. never in your life have you heard a man speak so vulgarly.
"that's no way for a viscount to speak to a lady." you scold. he can't help but roll his eyes at your comment.
"i'm sure that a man has spoken even more colorfully to you."
"what are you insinuating, my lord?"
"that i highly doubt a lady such as yourself still has her virtue." he shrugs.
never has your head spun so fast at a single sentence. you couldn't fathom that a rake like him has the nerve to question anyone's virtue.
"excuse me, viscount howlett but my virtue is none of your business." you rage. "and you have quite the nerve to question it."
"and why's that?"
james was playing with fire but he didn't mind getting scorched by your flames.
"i've heard the stories about you."
"like what?"
"like what you do with the promiscuous women of the night." your words leave a smirk plastered on his face as he watches you intensely.
"don't act so innocent either." james hums. "i'm sure you've had your fair share of promiscuous adventures in france."
a flush of red hits at your cheeks. the last person you wanted to talk about promiscuous acts with is james. mostly because your lack there of. only your own hands have touched you so intimately.
james studies your facial expression before it clicks for him. he shouldn't ask. he really shouldn't. but come on, he has to.
"have you never—" his words come to a halt when there's a ruffled noise inching closer.
"i'm under no obligation to answer you, viscount howlett." you scold, collecting your belongings.
"hm... seems like you've already answered my question." his cocky tone sends you over the edge of annoyance.
"shouldn't you be more concerned with finding a wife rather than my virtue? this season will be over before you know it and you will need to find one sooner rather than later."
james admired the way you spoke with such sharpness. you were shy and reserved but the weight of your words were heavy. there was grace in the way you spoke and he loathed it.
he loathed how perfect you were. how absolutely perfect you would fit into his life. how perfect you would be at being his little wife. only needing to plan parties and open your womb to his child. he would never stop you from your dream of painting either. all he wants is someone who can handle the duties that come with being his other half.
by the time james snaps out of his thoughts, you are long gone. off to get ready for your date with a man who's twice as rich as him and much more likable. the only thing he could do is hope that nothing good comes from this dinner.
──★
i'll tag everyone else who commented in the morning when i wake up <3
tag list: @v3rdee @squishyfruitloop @caswithdasas2021 @espressopatronum454 @brittdead @fake-bleach @blossoming-hotch @hotbisexualmess @imaginecrushes @wh0re4steelblue-eyes @b0nes-n-all @tvdelrey @prettyoatmeal @speedyvoidlove @lunavelha @merrul @bubblegumholland @divinesols @seasonofthenerd @adoredire @gl0wingsl0wtown @imithicwolf @charityjoy22 @sun7lowxr @melsunshine @internetitgirl17 @tsumukei @dolliestprncess @st4rrlighttt @crypticcowboys @mirrorballpalo @princessanglophile @planetxella @battieshroomz @tonyhawkstits @shinyshayminflower @babey-fruit-bat @oraclic @glnnnhaps @criminaly-supernatural @pxrwinkle @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere @tighrenicotine @midnightvitality @loonalockley @notbaldy420 @squishyfruitloop @summer-343 @reidshearts @marii-ren @fictionalmen-dilflover @brisingamenwearer @pedrohoe04 @taextannie @jrihensjd @tumharisakhi @readerofallthingss @etmoisara @paladinshenanigan-blog @hauntedwombateggmug @i-am-not-a-morning-person-83 @zaggprincess2 @atjlovverr @fallingfromjupiter @cards-and-daggers @reidsworld @imsuperbored @golden-ebony @joyfulpeanutsalad @mysticalmarvelousmagpie @thighridinglogan @pieuui @fanficcrow @alsoprettyinpink @rooroen @barbecuetiddy @potato-painter @milfhunter69sstuff @bel20blog @hypermarvellove @modicum-ofnothing @gemofthenight @laureniswolverine @d3ad2you @goldphish @mxtokko @ovohanna24 @i-voluntears @cherrypieyourface @petrichor-incorporation @csigirl3137 @justannie18 @yxtkiwiyxt @maddielovesurmom321 @madscape @mesopotamism @multifandom-boss-bitch @tecolote2755 @ririkacchi @crownofdecit @snow30285 @lenoradarkstriderr @willybillyletsgetsilly @sleepilysworld @mynatureworld @biiolumii @phantombaby @natlovesu @tumharisakhi @lokiswify @saph-cyare @burntsaltsblog @shedobeclownin @itsjuwulia @hazelwebster @cake-and-umbrellas @aureliusbrutus @loving-barnes @valorant-v @annagraceevanss @opheliaas-stuff @louisymomo @midnightvitality @ricespy123 @livingonsillylovesongs
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sematarygirls · 1 month ago
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🍼 ⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ ─── rafe thinks academic!reader wants a baby
   Rafe was absolutely certain that you were trying to subtly hint at wanting to have a baby with him. At the first comment, he assumed you were ovulating because you always did get a little bit of baby fever when you were, but then, you just kept showering him with random facts about the development of infants and toddlers to the point that he started to believe you were dropping hints.
Rafe wasn't someone who liked to play games. He preferred to be told things straight up, no beating around the bush, but being with you, he'd noticed that you had a habit of trying to subtly slide what you wanted into conversation, so you didn't have to directly ask. Almost like you were trying to make him think it was his idea, not yours—apparently, those psychology classes were really paying off.
It had gotten to the point where he had confided in Topper and Kelce, asking them if that's how it sounded to them—bad idea, Topper and Kelce are the last people to go to for relationship advice—to which they both agreed that it definitely sounded as though you were trying to suggest Rafe should get you pregnant.
The idea was completely out of the blue. You both were still so young, and you were still in school trying to get your degree in psychology. You two had only been dating for a couple of months and had never discussed marriage or engagement because it all felt so new to both of you. After all, Rafe was still reforming from his playboy ways and party lifestyle, and you hadn't been in many relationships prior to being with him.
He had originally decided to try his best to ignore your little comments, hoping you would eventually drop the subject altogether. Rafe had never really thought about kids, and he definitely didn't think he was dad material, his fear of turning out like his own father overshadowing the desire deep down to have a child—one he often pushed aside and tried to ignore.
But, you hadn't given up. If anything, it seemed like your mentions of children became more and more frequent—whether that was true or he just believed it was because he was hard-core stressing about it remained unclear. Eventually, Rafe decided he had to address it and make sure you knew that he wasn't planning on having kids with you antime soon, even if it seemed a little harsh to say considering how enthusiastic you seemed.
"Did you know after about a year, the pace at which children learn words accelerates rapidly, and by eighteen months, the average child is learning a new word every day?" You tore your gaze away from your phone screen to look over at him, a bright, proud smile on your face. You were sat in the passenger seat of his truck after he picked you up from your classes, intending to bring you back to Tannyhill, so you two could hang out.
"Okay, you've really gotta cut that shit out," Rafe said, a lot harsher than he intended to. He had already had a bad day, and he just wanted to relax with his girlfriend, not try to decode you and your baby talk. He was tired of dancing around the issue, and his stress only brought that out, making him snap at you.
Your brows furrowed, smile faltering at his words. He had never spoken to you like that before, and you couldn't for the life of you figure out why a little fact of all things had elicited such a reaction. He usually loved hearing all about your little facts, constantly telling you how sexy your intellect was to him. "What?" You simply asked, too hurt and confused to vocalize why his outburst seemed so completely out of the blue.
"Listen I," he took a deep breath, his grip on the steering wheel tightening for a moment before he relaxed again. "I don't want to have a baby with you," he said bluntly. Noticing how cruel that may have sounded, he decided to add an: "Atleast... not right now, alright?"
Your face was a mask of pure confusion. You weren't so much hurt anymore as utterly lost. Where did the topic of you two having children come from? "Rafe, what are you talking about?" You asked, not understanding where he could have possibly got the idea that you wanted to have a baby with him.
He glanced over at you, his own features morphing into an expression that mirrored yours. "All the baby facts and shit. I thought," he paused, wondering if he had read the situation all wrong, but that didn't make sense. It had been pretty fucking apparent to him, Topper, and Kelce that you were dropping baby hints. "I thought you were... yknow trying to tell me something."
You processed the new information for a moment before bursting into laughter to which Rafe glanced rapidly between you and the road, his brows only furrowing farther as he watched you laugh as if he'd said the most hilarious thing conceivable. "Oh, baby," you said softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder when your fit of hysterics finally died down. "No, I definitely was not hinting at anything. I am so swamped with school and work that I barely have time for you, let alone a child."
"What?" Rafe asked, relief flooding through him at your confirmation that you weren't trying to subconsciously trick him into wanting a baby with you through your little psychology tricks. Simultaneously, he felt extremely dumbfounded as to your motivations. "Then why have you been talking about kids so much recently?" He quirked an eyebrow, pulling into the driveway of his family's estate.
"Because we're covering the development and learning unit in my psych course, which obviously focuses a lot on the earlier stages of life aka infancy and childhood," you explained, watching realization dawn on him like a light bulb turning on in a dark, empty room. "I didn't think I had to spell that out for you since i'm always hitting you with random facts from class."
Rafe parked the car and unbuckled his seatbelt so he could turn to face you. "Okay, so just to be crystal clear, you weren't trying to use fuckin'...i dont know- subliminal messaging and weird psychobabble voodoo to like, make me want to get you pregnant?"
You laughed, unbuckling your own seatbelt, so you could face him too. "No, you idiot. You're so ridiculous," you grinned, leaning over to give him a peck on the lips. "I promise you I don't want children right now, and if that ever changes, I will talk to you about it and not use subliminal messaging or weird psychobabble voodo."
"Okay, good," he nodded, opening his car door. "Topper and Kelce swore that you were trying to play some kind of mind game."
"Why would you listen to Topper and Kelce of all people?" You asked, following suit in getting out of the car, your brows furrowing as he mentioned the two people who have yet to hold a stable, healthy relationship for any period of time. "They're the world's biggest idiots."
"Yeah, you're right," he grinned, walking over to you and slinging his arm around your shoulder as you two walked to the front door. "I'm sorry for snapping at you," he murmured. pressing a kiss to your temple.
"It's okay," you reassured him, sliding your hand onto his back and rubbing soft, soothing circles. "Just promise you'll talk to me next time instead of letting it build up and fester until you get to the point where you feel like snapping."
"I promise," he vowed, ushering you into the house. "Now let me show you—my beautiful, intelligent, and amazing girlfriend—how sorry I really am," he gave your ass a little tap, making his intentions clear as he steered you toward the staircase, your giggles echoing through the empty house.
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tags .ᐟ   @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @iheartjjmaybnk / @all4l0vee / @kissesfrmriri / @xoxohoneymoongirl / @bradshawed / @fallbhind
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jamiethebeeart · 3 months ago
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“But it’s not gay if he’s dead.” Danny’s head whipped around to stare down the street at two guys walking on the other side. He thought he was free of hearing that phrase ever again. Heart thudding in his ears, he crossed the street to tail these two guys. There was no way? Right? I mean Danny was something like 1,000 miles away from his hometown. There was no way two random guys in the big city of Gotham would’ve ever heard of –
“I don’t know man, it’s never been confirmed whether or not the “big guy” was actually… ya know?”
Danny seethed in frustration at the vague conversation. He stepped around a group of kids as he barely made the end of the crosswalk countdown.
“Nah, Red makes too many uncomfortable jokes about death to not have died.”
Danny sped up, weaving in between people to catch up before he lost the conversation in the din.
“It’s Gotham, we all make jokes about death.”
“Ya, but not like him. He seems to revel in them, like he actually kicked the bucket, permanent-like, not like those people who – I don’t know – cardiac arrest and are technically dead for a couple minutes until the EMTs get to them or whatever.”
A car puttered down the road – releasing a huge plume of exhaust in between Danny and the guys. Danny sighed, fully intending to return to his original path with the reassurance that they weren’t talking about Phantom. Then the next damned sentence came out of one of their mouths.
“Ok sure let’s say you’re right. Is it necrophilia if his body started decaying before coming back?”
‘Fuck it’ Danny thought as he turned back around. He had to see how this conversation ended – definitely not because the answer to that question kept him up night. Absolutely not. Call him a cat because he was just curious and not all at invested in the answer.
“Oh! Dude, shut the fuck up! Why would you – that’s disgusting! Are you kidding me!”
“Answer the question Mr. It’s Not Gay if He’s Dead – necrophiliac: yes or no?”
“No? Have you seen Red’s body? No way a dead guy could have muscles like that – I mean you gotta have working bodily functions right? To build muscles or whatever the fuck? Like have you seen his abs? Or, shit, just his arms - I mean swoon worthy, what I wouldn’t give to have him hold -”
“…….”
“- me…. What are ya looking at me like that for?”
“When, exactly, have you seen his abs.”
“Aaaah - that’s not the point –“
“Sure as hell hope that’s the point.” Red Hood stepped out of an alleyway they were walking past. Even with a helmet on, Danny swore the guy stared straight at him. He was so fucked getting caught listening in to this conversation – could he play it cool? Danny was cool right? Yeah, he could totally pull this off, act totally normal and keep walking. Hunching his shoulders some and turning his body away from the three men, he walked past. Or tried to. Red Hood caught the back of his shirt, stopping him from getting away. Unless Danny was willing to expose his powers to get out this situation, the best he could do was play dumb and hope Hood let him go without too much hassle.
“Boss!”
“Hey Boss – you didn’t happen to only hear the second half of that, did you?”
Red Hood growled, “the part about necrophilia or the part about my abs?”
Danny twisted his head back to see Goon #1 turn pale. “Uuuh – uh- um,” met Red Hood’s question.
A choreographed roll of the eyes, “Better question, why are you talking shit out on the streets and not paying attention to your little stalker,” Hood gestured to Danny.
“I’m not a stalker!” Danny huffed. His eyes widened. All three guys looked over at him. ‘SHIT’ Danny thought. He did not want to catch anyone’s attention more than he had, much less all three.
Goon No. 2 looked at him, as he resumed his squirming in Red Hood’s grasp, “So who are you?”
Danny glanced up to see Red Hood staring down at him. Today just wasn’t his day. “Hood,” Danny blurted out.
Silence. The tips of Danny’s ears turned bright red
“Uhm, I mean, a tourist?” “In Crime Alley, kid?”
"I'm not a kid," Danny muttered.
Hood shook Danny’s shirt hard enough to also shake Danny himself. “Try again. I’ve seen you around often enough to know that’s a lie.”
“It’s true!” Danny lied. “I was visiting the city, my wallet got pickpocketed with most of my money, so now I’m… kind of…. Stuck here? Indefinitely?”
Goon No. 1 laughed at him, “do ya think we’re dumb? You have a cellie right? No way you’re ‘stuck here’.”
“Exactly, so who do you work for? Penguin?” A jab towards Danny’s face. “Riddler?” Another jab and a step towards Danny. “Is it Two Face?” Another, even closer jab. Danny went cross-eyed looking at the finger in front of his nose.
“Back off,” Hood said. Danny breathed a sigh of relief at being given some space. And then the next words came out of Red Hood’s mouth, “Get lost you two – and stop gossiping on the street. And you-“ Hood turned back to Danny, “ – you’re coming with me.” Danny gulped. Today was going down as another shit day in the books for sure.
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these-posts-arent-real · 7 months ago
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Oh StarClan... your dash has turned into warrior cats again.
#sorry <3 #this one has parts that are based off of that #one post rhats like "if there were cat-people #do you think calico tboys would try to dye over their patches"
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🔁 🍲 ex-thundrclan-kipper Follow reblogged
🍲 ex-thundrclan-kipper Follow
Me & Night (my mate)!!!
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🏞 trouttail-prefers-bass Follow
:O Kip's mate has finally been revealed!!! And his name is Night? Cooool.
🍲 ex-thundrclan-kipper Follow
Yeah haha. Technically his full name is Night Hunter, Bringer of Darkness, but it feels so weirdly formal calling him that, so I usually stick to just Night.
#life #kittypet #collar tw #cw collars #id in alt text
8,504 notes
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🛤 carnation-stem-02 Follow
I find it really funny when I see cats on here vaguepost about big blogs. Like cmon mouse-brain everyone here knows who you're talking about. Just say their name.
#this is about that one mommy blogger shitting on kipper the kittypet #btw #in case some of you couldnt tell #would be funny if it wasnt so stupid
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🔁 🐍xviper-the-fagx reblogged
🥬 rxttencatmint Follow
Hahaaaaa.... my mother found out ive been slowly dyeing my ginger patches black...
🪺 robbbinpaw Follow
Why would you do that??? Being a tortie is so cool, I wish I had ginger patches! They're so pretty, why do you want to get rid of them???
🥬 rxttencatmint Follow
Uhm. Gender dysphoria??
Like. I know cis male tortoiseshells exist but they're so rare that most cats take one look at me and go "oh, tortie, must be a girl" and that hurts.
🪺 robbbinpaw Follow
OH STARCLAN im so sorry Rot i wasnt even thinking about you being trans, I probably sounded really insensitive... I do understand what you're saying now.
Didn't even ask, how did your mom take it? Does she know why?
🥬 rxttencatmint Follow
You're fine <3 I get it. And no, she uh.. has no clue why I did it, she thinks I'm in my "emo phase" or something.
🐍 xviper-the-fagx
Uhh unrelated but what do you use to dye your fur?? Asking for... science...
#"science" meaning i am also a tortie tboy #well technically i'm calico but ykwim
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🔁 🦋 lalala-bluegaze Follow reblogged
🦢 gentlesong-momof17 Follow
I can't be the only one here who thinks it's unfair to allow kittypets on this site. Posting pictures of themselves and their mates inside of the twolegplace, influencing the young kits on this site to abandon their Clans... surely everyone else sees the problem with this as well.
This is Clanblr, not "Kittypetblr". This was specifically made as a space for Clan cats to connect, not for kittypets to push their lifestyle on us.
They're going to convince our kits to abandon their home and their belief in StarClan just for a more secure life.
#EXACTLY #I only recently found out ex-tc Kipper was a kittypet #it was so upsetting to me because i've always loved his wood-scratch art #to find out he's a clan-abandoner was so saddening
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🔁 🐍xviper-the-fagx reblogged
🌻 l1llyst3m Follow
The recent drama surrounding Kipper the Kittypet is sad and I hate that he's being bashed just for existing, but it's also incredibly stupid. I believe the cat who wrote the original post said something like, "it's CLANblr, not KITTYPETblr," and then something about belief in StarClan and I just... do you even realize how many Clanblr mods are non-Clan and/or don't believe in StarClan?
To name a few, @s-t-a-r-burning is former WindClan now rogue & openly an atheist, @theshadowhaseyes has been a kittypet his whole life, and @ssuunnrraayy-p has made zir entire blog about how ze travels from one Clan to another & doesnt consider zimself a Clan cat. Those are all mods. "It's clanblr no-" shut up. Just shut up.
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🧷 name-lists-by-theme
Theme: Water
as always, these work as either part of your name, but they are intended as the first part!
-Abyss
-Bay
-Bog
-Cove
-Creek
-Current
-Dew
-Fog
-Lagoon
-Lake
-Marsh
-Mist
-Pond
-Pool
-Puddle
-Rain
-Shallow
-Sleet
-Spray
-Splash
-Storm
-Stream
-Torrent
Keep reading
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🐱 berrrrry-o Follow
I think a lot of cats put way too much emphasis on the parts of the warrior code that dont matter, and forget the parts that do, like "feed elders and kits first" and "never neglect a kit in pain or danger"... I feel like those are significantly more important than "a warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet," but maybe that's just me.
#berry yaps #I'm irritated by the kittypet drama going on on this site
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🔁 🛤 carnation-stem-02 Follow reblogged
🔲 sag3-chas3s-squirr3ls-deactivated
I feel like we don't talk enough about how SkyClan got chased out of their own territory during a time of crisis rather than all of the Clans trying to make room for everyone...
I mean, seriously. I know it's taught to all SkyClan apprentices, but I've talked to some of my friends from other Clans and they just. Didn't know that. They were never taught that the other Clans allowed SkyClan to be chased out due to territory loss.
🔲 sstep-xoxo-deactivated
:/ im pretty sure the whole thing about skclan being kicked out of their territory is just a conspiracy theory
🔲 sag3-chas3s-squirr3ls-deactivated
Imagine trying to tell a cat that they don't know their own Clan's history 💀
#ohh i finally found it again #that 1 fucker trying to say that skyclan's history is a "conspiracy theory"
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🌱 dirtdigger-23 Follow
:/ I do not like being stuck on the wrong site.
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gurugirl · 6 months ago
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The Handyman | a check-in*
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Summary: You and Harry throw a housewarming party and your ex shows up with some advice for whoever built the kitchen counter. Harry makes sure to prove to you how well-built his countertops really are.
A/N: Based on this idea! Previously posted on Patreon. Read the original one shot here.
Word Count: 3,613
Warning: smut, the tiniest touch of jealousy/possessiveness
❊❊❊
You hadn’t intended for your little housewarming party to turn into a whole thing. Harry said he’d help you invite people from town, a way to make more friends and get to know some of the locals a bit better. But then when your dad told your cousin that you were throwing a small party she let it slip to someone from your past. Van, your ex. She apologized, saying she didn’t think he’d be interested until he asked for more details. But you weren’t going to be rude and uninvite anyone because the house was big enough for everyone. And you did say “open invitation” after all.
“Y/n, it’s so nice to see you again,” Van pulled you in for a hug when he arrived. You put on your nicest smile and attempted to act happy to see him. And it wasn’t that you disliked the guy but the awkwardness of dealing with an ex you hadn’t seen in a while was a bit daunting.
“Oh my gosh. You too! I’m surprised to see you here. All the way out in the middle of nowhere!” It truly was a surprise. It was an hour’s drive from the city to get to your house. And even though your cousin told you she told him and he seemed interested, you half expected he wouldn’t show up.
You made small talk with him before excusing yourself to go to the kitchen except he followed you.
“This house really does look nice, Y/n. Did you have help with all this?”
“Thank you. And yes. I had someone help with everything. Harry’s been so amazing. Listened to what I wanted but he already had his own ideas which I loved so much. Kept almost everything original.”
Van ran his palm along the butcher block island and ducked down to check the construction of the cabinets beneath, “Who’s Harry?”
“Harry owns a small company doing all kinds of work for people in town. He helped me restore the whole place and landscape. I mean, he basically did all the work but… yeah. He’s also my boyfriend.”
Van raised a brow at you, “Boyfriend huh?”
“Yep. Boyfriend. He’s actually here somewhere.”
He nodded as he inspected the window over the sink, “Not sure if you remember or not but I became an architect. Wish you’d have called me. I could have really done this place justice. Sort of feels like some of this could have been upgraded.”
“Oh? Like what?”
You caught Harry’s eye when he stood at the entry between the kitchen and the dining room as he spoke to a few people he knew.
“Well this window for example,” Van pointed, “I would have pushed this whole wall out, made a breakfast nook over the patio since there’s so much space at the front. Could have put in built-in bench seating and it would have given you so much more light in the kitchen and increased the value of the property.”
“I mean that sounds really nice but I wanted it to be original. Expanding the walls and windows like that sounds like too much. And I’m not planning on selling it so increasing the value doesn’t appeal to me.”
“I just hope he knew what he was doing. If someone’s not quite qualified you could have shoddy workmanship that shows later. Like all the cabinets and these new countertops,” he knocked on the surface, “might look fine now but give them a year and you’ll see if it’s up to par.”
Suddenly Harry was wrapping his arms around your front and kissing your neck as Van was then suggesting a rebuild of the staircase to expand the width. You placed your hands over Harry’s forearms and grinned at the feel of his lips on your skin. His distraction had almost made you forget that Van was still talking until he slowly got quieter as he looked between you and Harry and realized you were no longer listening.
Harry kept his eyes on Van as he pressed warm kisses to your neck. It was a signal to Van. You were taken and you were happy and Harry wasn’t some pushover. You were his girl and he was letting Van know.
“This the ex you were telling me about,” he whispered into your ear so Van wouldn’t hear it.
You nodded and giggled, turning to look at Harry when Van cleared his throat.
Harry stood up straight and put his hands on your shoulders, “Sorry to interrupt like that. I’m Harry, Y/n’s boyfriend. You are?”
“Oh, I’m an old friend. I’m Van,” he put his hand out to shake and Harry wrapped his big palm around Van’s with a nod.
“Nice to meet you, Van. Now, what were you suggesting I do differently?”
Van’s eyes widened slightly, “Oh… I wasn’t saying you should do anything different… it’s just that there were some ideas…”
You were no longer interested in what Van had to say at all when you felt Harry’s hand slide down to your hip. It felt like a possessive move. You’d never known Harry to be jealous or anything but that whole exchange had you seeing a bit of a different side of him.
“Definitely some good ideas, Van. But we’re happy with keeping things original. Feel free to have a look around at everything if you like. Only room off limits is our bedroom upstairs that’s locked, but otherwise, knock yourself out.”
Neither you nor Van missed Harry saying our bedroom upstairs.
“Okay. Well, thank you. Yeah, I mean I think you’ve done a great job here and…” Now Van was backtracking.
Harry nodded, “The most important thing is that Y/n is happy with how everything turned out and the quality of construction is the best,” he rapped his knuckles on the countertop, his brow raised at Van.
Van kept his distance until he left a couple of hours later, only hugging you quickly and telling you, once again, how nice it was to see you. You weren’t sure why he showed up in the first place. Maybe, being an architect, he was genuinely curious about the new house you bought and had help restoring. Or maybe he was hoping to rekindle something long gone but then was caught off guard by Harry.
“I can see why you love it here,” your cousin nudged your arm as she ogled Harry who was talking to a woman animatedly.
You laughed softly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your boyfriend, obviously. Damn. Who knew small-town men looked like that? You’re living your Lifetime movie dreams babe. Old mansion, aunt’s inheritance, hot local who helped you fix the place up falls in love with you…”
You laughed through your nose and shook your head, “I’m not saying I’m not agreeing with you but… I would have stayed here with or without Harry. He’s just the cherry on top.”
“Oh, I bet he’s the cherry on top. So…” she looked around the space and then back at you, “He’s living here with you then?”
You nodded, “Yep. When we started dating it was just kind of the natural next step. I think my dad thought it was too fast but I didn’t want to be away from him at night anymore and he didn’t like it either. I suggested that he just stay and… well that’s really it. He’s here for good. Plus he put so much love into this house. It feels like it’s just as much as his as it is mine.”
You could admit, everything looked fantastic. Harry had made your home into something you could see yourself living in until you were old and grey. Something you were proud to show off to everyone. It was a labor of love, for both of you.
. . .
When everyone had gone, you were wiping up the countertop when your sponge was plucked from your hands and Harry pulled you back into his chest, “So Van thinks the construction of this counter isn’t well done?”
You turned in his arms and grinned up at him, “You know the construction is fine. It’s the best. Don’t worry about what he said. I don’t think he could tell from just looking anyway.”
“Did you like him a lot when you two dated?” Harry pushed you gently back toward the counter, your bottom hitting the edge.
“Why? You’re not jealous are you?”
Harry licked his lips and squeezed your hips before sliding his hands up to your waist and lifting you to sit on the smooth surface you’d just wiped down. You laughed and grasped onto his shoulders.
“Of course, I’m not jealous of Mr. Architect. But I do want to demonstrate how sturdy everything is. I’m not the type to cut corners, you know…” he dragged his big hands up your sides and one up your spine until his fingers found the back of your neck, collaring you with his big palm as he bumped his nose into yours.
You giggled and pushed your arms over his shoulders, “Seriously, Harry. I know how sturdy everything is. No need to prove anything to me.”
“Mmm… I know I don’t have to prove anything,” he smoothed his lips against yours gently, and slowly with the poke of the tip of his tongue at your plush lips igniting the furnace in your tummy that always simmered with need for him. But when he got like this… with his hands on your body and his mouth prodding at yours… the simmer turned into a boil.
You felt one of his hands travel down your hips and then to your thigh where he bunched the material of your skirt in his palm until he’d pushed the fabric out of his way and teased his finger up and down along the edge of your panties next to your crotch.
Spreading your legs for him you leaned back slightly and parted from the kiss with a laugh, “We gonna do this right here, Harry?”
He splayed both of his hands over your bare thighs and squeezed. His eyelids were heavy as he roved his pupils from where he was holding your plush thighs then up to your face, “Wanna?’
You couldn’t help but giggle again and bite your lip as you nodded.
“Mmhmm… Thought you’d want to. Given how wet your panties are right here,” he pressed his thumb over the crotch of your knickers, “Bet you need it more than I do, sweetheart.”
He smeared his thumb around the material of your sodden panties, wetting the pad of his digit before finding your clit and pressing into it. A breathy pant fell from your lips.
“What got you like this, Y/n? What happened, sweetheart?”
“Nothing, just you.”
“Me? Are you sure about that?”
“Always you, Harry.”
He grinned and pushed the fabric of your panties aside as he kept his soft green eyes on you, “What about me does this to you, hmm? You just like me so much that you start dripping?”
You felt your face heat up. Harry often liked to ask you questions that got you a little shy or embarrassed when you had to answer. And even though you should be used to it by now you still got a bit antsy. But fuck if you didn’t love it.
“Yeah. I really just like you so much…”
Harry’s grin never faltered as he kept his gaze pinned to yours and pressed his thumb at the entrance of your pussy, taunting it open until he had pushed it all the way in and you gasped. He began slipping it in and pulling it out, “I know you do. And I love how much you need me,” he continued fucking you with his thumb, “How your body reacts to me. Look at you, Y/n…” he dipped his gaze down to where he was thrusting his thumb into you, “Letting me fuck you with my thumb on the countertop I installed. Making a mess of my palm and I bet the quartz under your ass too. Almost shaking you need it so bad.”
You grunted and rolled your hips up against his thumb, pressing him in further and Harry groaned at your little pathetic wiggle.
Releasing one of your thighs he hooked a finger into the bottom hem of your blouse and pushed upward, “Arms up.”
Raising your arms overhead harry pulled the shirt from your torso and then pulled your bra down, exposing your tits one at a time until you were pouring out over the stretchy material. With his thumb still inside of you, he ducked down and wrapped his lips over your nipple, tongue first.
You moaned and closed your eyes when Harry moved to your other breast, pumping his thumb through your walls until it was all gushy sounding. He stood back, pulling his thumb from you and then bringing it up to his mouth, wrapping his lips around it to lick off every drop of you while his other hand worked at his button to get his pants undone.
There you sat at the edge of the counter with your legs spread and your wet pussy on display. Your panties were stretched to the side and out of the way but you could feel the elastic digging into the back of your thigh and your bum.
Harry pulled himself out of his pants, his gorgeous cock already at full mast and ready to split you in half. He cradled the underside of his shaft as he stepped in toward you and held your thigh in place as he smudged his tip into your labia, spreading your arousal through your crease. The dirty look on his face was heated, like he was about to overtake every part of you.
“Hold onto my back, sweetheart. Gonna fuck you on this well-made countertop now,” he smirked at you cheekily.
You would have laughed but you were already feeling his tip at your pulsing muscle and the anticipation of him stretching you open was making your head spin.
He rocked forward, his thick crown penetrating you and opening you up as he stuffed himself in. It took a few pumps of his cock in and out to burry into the hilt. He gasped when he felt your pussy devour him whole.
Your fingers clung to his back as he began to thrust, long and languid, wet and hot.
“Fucking hell… Got me so weak for you, sweetheart. So desperate to feel you around me all the time. Wanted to fuck you on this counter right in front of your ex-architect so he could see who’s fucking you these days, who’s treating you right…”
You moaned with every deep nudge of his cock through your wet channel. But when he ran his thumb over your clit you croaked out loudly, “Fuck! Yes…”
“See? Look how good I am to you… give you the best don’t I?”
You nodded, “The best, Harry…”
He crashed his lips to yours as he worked your cunt with his cock and his thumb and the languid thrusts turned into frantic jerking motions with his tip nudging into your guts, a hint of pain spreading through your insides at the way he bullied his thick length into you. He rocked his hips against you, the sound of smacking flesh and muffled moans between kisses filtered out through the open window onto your porch. Luckily you had no neighbors anywhere near so no one would know the kinds of things that went on in that old house every evening.
Your thighs were trembling with every swipe of his thumb at your clit and every dip of his cock through your insides.
“Gonna come for me already? Yeah? Fuck, baby…” he was swollen and leaking as he shoved into you. The feel of you wrapped tight around him was always heaven. His favorite.
You whined loudly, the build-up of your orgasm was unable to be stopped as you let him ravage your pussy however he liked. Pat-pat-pat… the sound of wet pussy getting fucked was a typical soundtrack in your house just about every night.
Harry ran a big paw over your tits and squeezed as he pounded into you. The counter under you never budging.
When your pussy began to squeeze and flutter and spasm and your mouth dropped open wide you let out a pitiful cry and dug your fingertips into the taut muscle of his back as you gushed on his big cock.
He only increased his pace as he fucked into you and watched your pretty face twist up in ecstasy. He loved watching you come. It only fed his ego to see such a pretty thing with your face all scrunched and lips curled and wet as you quivered in your orgasm.
He hissed to hold himself back as he felt your pussy slobbering arousal all over his dick. He’d have loved to unload his come right then but he wanted to force another orgasm from you before he allowed himself the satisfaction of coming yet.
When you felt him slow his thrusts you could hear him cooing at you, “Good girl. Fuck baby almost made me come you look so pretty like this.”
You lulled your head up to look at him and he smoothed his lips against yours as he stilled his hips, cock lodged deep inside of your tummy.
“Gonna have you bend over now, okay? Put your feet on this stool if you need it,” he dragged the stool next to his foot toward the counter for you. And with wobbly limbs, you adjusted your seating, turning over so your hips were face down against the counter top and Harry quickly placed his big palms on the round of your ass, pulling you apart so he could see your pussy and anus.
He inhaled sharply as he ran a finger through your folds and you jolted from being so sensitive, “Easy, sweetheart… This is gonna feel good once I get going. You ready?”
You nodded into the crook of your arm and let out a muffled yes as he nudged his cock against you again.
His fingers dug into the meaty soft part of your thighs before he split you open, burying in balls deep on first pass.
You grunted and braced yourself as he began to plunge through your insides, wet strokes of his long cock filling you and then pulling back to his tip on repeat.
“Ooh… shit, sweetheart. So fucking pretty…” he pulled at your ass cheeks and railed into you. You knew he was sweating already, he was giving it his all, using his strong muscles to fuck himself into you and panting breaths every time his balls smushed into your pussy.
You began to feel that fuzzy little prickle spread over your core with every stroke of his cock. The ridges of his bare dick always fit into your crevices and little spots like he was made to snug inside of you and get you off just like that. Your g-spot was never left unloved with the shape of Harry’s cock, his tip always dipping right into it with every pass.
He began to grunt with every glide of his hips, his cock being massaged by your warm walls making his balls tighten and his heart pound the closer he got to his end.
The sight of your pussy sucking him in, lips wrapped around his thick shaft and leaving creamy arousal along his length was just as hot as the way you felt encasing him. But of course, there was the scent and the sound as well. It was lewd. All his senses were burning and singing as he fucked into you.
“Ahh!” You moaned and began to push back against his thrusts, desperate for your next orgasm as it was approaching fast.
Arousal dripped down your inner thighs as he rutted into you, his pace growing sloppy and erratic as he could tell you were about to come.
And the moment you gurgled a wet moan and he could feel you clamping down he gasped and gripped onto your hips, moving you over his cock like you were a toy to fuck, he pulled your ass against his hips and then upward along his cock before slamming you against him again, smearing your pussy juice on the countertop as he did so. You cried out and convulsed around him as Harry finally pumped into you, pulling you back against him until he was stuffed into you as deep as he could reach and released every drop of himself into you.
He groaned as he came into your warm, cozy pussy, pumping strings of his come through your slimy arousal-coated cunt.
Harry made getting off easy. You’d never been one to come so fast or so easy but you were convinced his cock was shaped exactly like you needed. You reached back to take his hand as Harry leaned over your back and kissed your neck, “Pussy fucked and stuffed and countertop sturdy as a rock,” he laughed.
You giggled and arched your back to attempt to move yourself, the position was not the most comfortable after all.
Harry helped you down and held onto you so you wouldn’t fall and you both laughed again when you turned to face him, knowing you had mascara down your cheeks.
He cupped your face and grinned at you, “This is the best housewarming party I’ve ever been to.”
You pointed at the counter he’d just fucked you on and chuckled, “And that is the sturdiest kitchen counter anyone will ever see.”
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dovveri · 5 months ago
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in my head
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synopsis: you're paired with your crush and resident popular girl on campus for a project for the rest of semester
warnings: maybe a swear word or two
w/c: 5.5k
a/n: I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE REQ IM SORRY TO THAT ANON who requested this and also sorry it took me so long to get around to this i just couldn't think of anything to write bcs i alr did the nerd momo x popular reader fic and i fear this trope is too overdone for sana so... there is nothing rly original here LOL i stroogled i lwk wish i did not fill this req bcs i hate this fic HAHHA i gotta learn to say no ><
༺☆༻
“alright class, pair projects for this semester will be randomly assigned.”
there are collective groans from around the room but you only pray that you get a partner who knows what they're doing. you didn't really have a problem doing group assignments all on your own, it was better quality that way anyway, but it'd be nice if someone else could contribute a little every once in a while.
"check your emails for who your partner is. please get acquainted and exchange contact details before next week."
everyone quickly pulls out their phones, laptops, or whatever device they use during class, you follow along, logging in and scrolling to find the correct email.
minatozaki sana.
before you can even conjure up the thought oh shit she's skipping up to your table with a bright smile.
"hi! y/n?"
you sputter, unable to look at her, choosing to fiddle with your screen and panic scroll through random weather predictions and calculator apps. yes, plural, apps.
she's hard to ignore though, bending down and tilting her head so you're forced to look at her. when she catches your eyes she smiles again, "we're working together on the project this semester."
"u-uh y-yeah i s-saw."
"mhmm. wanna exchange numbers now?"
"oh! right yes of course sorry." you fumble, handing your phone to sana. she giggles, taking it from your hand and replacing it with her phone.
"cute background."
"oh that's- i'm not-"
"it's okay y/n. i'm a closet glee fan too." she winks at you, handing back your phone with exceptional speed.
you curse under your breath, quickly typing your number in and handing her phone back, thinking about the brittana wallpaper you have set on your homescreen. why did you have to be such a nerd?
"thanks! i'll text you later and we can meet up sometime this week to talk about the project?"
"y-yep. that sounds g-good."
she smiles that bright, blinding smile again, turning with a flourish and skipping over to her friends.
you were so fucked.
༺☆༻
minatozaki sana was the most popular girl on campus. captain of the cheerleading team, notorious for her ditzy charm and line of admirers. girls like that weren't exactly the type to be top of the class or put much effort into their studies. they were already guaranteed shoo-ins at major marketing or HR firms that liked pretty faces to hike in business, if they weren't already signed to modelling or acting gigs that was.
it also didn't help that you were at the wee end of her long, long line of admirers. you hadn't intended to fall for her. you knew it was completely unrealistic, you'd bet she didn't even know your first name until she got paired with you. so you knew what you were getting into when you first started paying a little more attention to her in class, noticing small things about her like the way she'd scrunch her nose when she was confused or didn't know how to do a question, or the way every time she'd get even remotely excited her left foot would start tapping, like a puppy wagging it's tail when it gets excited. you couldn't help but notice these things and who could you blame? it was minatozaki sana, you certainly weren't the first to fall for her charms, just definitely the most unlikely to actually end up with her.
so it was fine that you were paired up. totally fine. you didn't mind putting in the extra academic work if it meant you didn't have to speak to sana or even mildly interact with her. you were fine doing everything on your own so that she, or god forbid, any of her popular clique would never be able find out about your embarrassingly impossible crush for sana.
santana💜: hi! is this y/n?
you blink down at your phone. this was not who you thought it was. there was no way.
y/n: who's this?
santana💜: im sana! i named myself santana in ur phone bcs of ur brittana wallpaper ;) yk... ur brittany bcs ur a secret genius and im santana bcs... well our names are kinda similar!
y/n: oh... haha right. yeah this is y/n
santana💜: would u be free to come over tmr? to get a headstart on the assignment? or i can go over to urs instead if u want :)
y/n: oh it's fine sana u don't have to pretend to do anything. idm doing the whole thing and submitting for both of us i won't tell the teacher dw
santana💜: what?! who do u think i am y/n?! im not just going to let u do the whole thing on ur own! come to mine 8pm tmr ok? i'll text u the address later
you stare down at your phone. okay so that plan wasn't going to work. you could be cool though. this would be fine. totally fine.
y/n: ok
༺☆༻
you knock on the door of the address sana gave you after her cheer practice. you had spent the past day overthinking exactly what was going to happen, whether or not sana really did want to contribute or if she was still just doing this for show. or if something even more sinister was planned, probably not by sana, but you'd seen some of the people she hung out with, you wouldn't put it past them to go back to their high school bully ways and pull a prank on a nerd like you, even at their adult age.
but when sana opens the door with a beam, her smile is bright and seems devoid of any hidden intentions. you honestly feel a little bad that you had doubted her when she's looking at you like that. but you remind yourself that sana was just that sweet of a person, she looked at everyone like that, you weren't special.
you cough awkwardly, offering a polite smile and stepping in.
"my housemates are out tonight so we have the whole place to ourselves."
"oh cool."
"do you want anything to drink?"
"just water would be great thanks."
"you can go ahead to my room. it's the second door on the right. the bathroom's right opposite it as well if you need to go or anything. i'll be with you in a sec." she smiles at you again, going off towards the kitchen to prepare some snacks and your water.
you tentatively step further into her home, feeling very out of place, but also curious at the pictures and trinkets everywhere, your first glance into sana’s real life.
you follow her directions, walking towards her room and stepping inside, not really surprised at the pink-tone hues that greet you.
sana’s room is cute. she has polaroids and film prints of her and various friends and family hung up next to her bed, a pinboard with small reminders decorated with stickers and more pictures, posters stuck up with and fairy lights strung across various surfaces.
“sorry it’s kinda messy. i haven’t cleaned in a little.”
you turn at the sound of her voice, suddenly finding her much less intimidating in her pink fluffy slippers, suddenly she just seemed like another girl, not the person on the pedestal that you, and most of the campus put her up to be.
you smile, genuinely this time albeit still a little awkward, “it’s fine. i don’t think it’s messy at all, i like it, it’s cute.”
“really? you don’t think it’s childish or anything?” sana pouts slightly as she settles a tray of snacks and water on the table next to her bed and then sits down, shuffling the various amount of japanese plush toys around.
“not at all.”
she grins then, gesturing for you to sit.
you follow suit, crossing your legs and sitting on the floor, taking out your laptop and papers from class. “so have you had a chance to read over the assignment brief yet? it’s okay if you haven’t, i was honestly surprised you asked to meet up so early, technically the only assignment for this week was to exchange contact details.”
sana slides down so she’s on the floor next to you, knees touching, you don’t see it because you’re focused on the fact that your skin was now touching and she was close enough for you to smell her designer perfume, but she pouts before speaking, “do you seriously think i’m just some slacker y/n? i asked to meet up because i wanted to get this assignment out of the way while it’s still early in the semester. before things get busy and we both get swamped with our other classes.”
“o-oh right i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to… well yeah anyway... so i was thinking-"
"you totally thought i was a slacker didn't you?" you can't ignore her when she peeks around to eye you.
"i- well-"
"it's okay. most people think we're all just bandwagoners and yeah i admit i know some of the people i may be... affiliated with are those types of people, but i'm here because i wanted an education and i'm serious about it. so don't try and do all the work on your own okay? we'll split it evenly."
you're more than embarrassed now. you had boxed sana into a stereotype that she was obviously aware of and actively against. “right i’m so sorry oh my god- i didn’t mean to- i-“
she laughs then, hitting your shoulder playfully, your skin burns at the contact, “it’s okay y/n! you’re adorable. thanks for wanting to do everything at first but i can handle my own and i won’t let you down!”
you blush, looking back down to your papers but comprehending none of the words on it. "right. i'm sorry again... and thank you." you manage to mumble out.
sana giggles internally, finding you very cute. and she loved cute things as evidenced all over her room.
༺☆༻
the following weeks you start spending a lot more time at sana's place, to the point where you've met all her roommates and their partners, and it doesn't feel weird for them to see you around the house. it was a pretty rigorous assignment and it involved a lot of hands-on research and time dedicated to it.
you're still complete strangers at school though, sana was still the popular it girl, always surrounded by groups of people, while you were the nerdy nobody.
so it definitely comes as a shock when sana slides into the seat across from you while you're eating your lunch peacefully alone in the cafeteria, mindlessly scrolling through tiktok.
your eyes almost bulge out of your head when you look up and see her bright smile, scrambling to make space for her and take your airpods out, almost knocking your juice popper off the side of the table in the panic.
"s-sana! what are you doing here?!" you're pulling the straps of your bag towards you so it's no longer occupying the table space opposite you, that obviously meant that spot was occupied, a cue sana chose to cheerily ignore.
"just saw you eating alone and wanted to join you!"
"o-oh. you don't have friends waiting for you?"
she shrugs, plucking a fry off your plate, "not really."
you shrink into your seat as you feel the eyes of the cafeteria land on you and sana, whispering and pointing at you. you’ve never wished more for the floor to swallow you up than in this moment.
“so i was thinking-“
“sana! what are you doing here?”
oh no. you did not need any more attention on you right now. least of all from park jihyo, student council president, and kim dahyun, student council treasurer, both of whom were on the same level of popularity as sana with just as many admirers.
jihyo slides in right next to you while talking across to sana, dahyun happily greeting sana and sliding in next to her with her lunch tray.
“jihyo! dahyunnie! i thought you both had a student council meeting right now?”
“got postponed. our secretary fell sick and we can’t proceed without her so we just decided to wait until she got better.”
they fall into easy conversation while you shrink even further into yourself, squeezing your arms into your sides so you’re not made known to the other two who still haven’t acknowledged your presence.
“ugh practice was such a drag today.” yoo jeongyeon slides in next to you, still in her lacrosse uniform, throwing an arm over your shoulders without seeming to realise who you were. you flinch at the action.
this was so not happening to you right now.
hirai momo slides in next to sana, eyes trained only on her tray as she mumbles a greeting with her mouth full with food already.
oh good lord what did you do to deserve this?
at least you’d met momo before since she was one of sana’s roommates but she still only really knew you as ‘sana’s project partner’. the others you’ve only seen from afar, and until now you were half-convinced they weren’t really real, too far up the social ladder to ever be associated with the likes of you. jeongyeon was the star lacrosse player and team captain of your school, which was renowned for it’s lacrosse team. hirai momo was apparently roped into playing lacrosse but really excelled in the world of dance. apparently she’d already had experience touring as backup dancers for major hit singers.
jihyo wrinkles her nose, speaking over you to jeongyeon, “yoo jeongyeon you stink. didn’t we allocate an extra $3000 to shower renovations last year? we did not do that so you could continue to sweat all over me.”
jeongyeon sticks her tongue out at jihyo, “i was hungry. besides i’m not sweating all over you. and you don’t mind do you- wait- who are you?”
your eyes widen when you realise jeongyeon’s now addressing you, and then suddenly the entire table’s eyes are on you.
you feel your face going bright red, coughing awkwardly and staring down at your plate of food. “u-um-“
“this is y/n! she’s my friend!”
you look up to see sana beaming at you.
“oh… how do you guys know each other?”
“we were paired together for that pair project i was talking about- you know for my class about sustainable engineering? momoring knows!”
momo grunts in acknowledgement, offering you a fleeting smile before returning back to her food, not entirely interested with this conversation.
“wait- how does momo know her and i don’t? momo spends all of her time in the dance studio, and if she’s not she’s only ever focused on food!”
“maybe you should be a better student council president and know all your students then hyo.”
im nayeon, co-head cheerleader along with sana, her title alone demonstrating her popularity status, teases jihyo with a grin, standing at the end of the table in her cheer uniform, commanding all attention from anyone who wasn’t already watching your table in curiosity.
“oh shut up nayeon.” but jihyo quickly turns to face you, offering a hand and a bright smile, “hi y/n! it’s nice to meet you! i hope we haven’t been giving you too much trouble.”
you quickly shake your head, taking her hand gingerly, surprised at the strong grip she has.
“momoring and nayeonnie have already met y/n because she’s been over at ours a lot to work on the project together.” sana perks up again, and then looks at you again, not that her eyes have really left you but you didn’t know that, “sorry for all this by the way. my friends are obviously people blind.”
“speak for yourself sana. the amount of times you’ve called out the wrong name in bed-“
sana flushes bright red, shooting up and slapping a hand over nayeon’s mouth while the others crack up in laughter.
"ignore her y/n. she doesn't mean that."
sana smiles through her teeth while nayeon makes muffled sounds of disagreement, and honestly it is a little funny so you can't help but laugh alongside them.
in the end, you don't mind too much that sana's friends invaded your lunch time. they were a lot less intimidating than you had thought they would be, similar to how you had judged sana prior to actually spending any time with her. it was still awkward to feel the eyes of jealous onlookers but sana stealing food off your plate every few minutes and making sure you were included in the conversation was enough to make you feel welcome and ignore those looks.
༺☆༻
"y/n! i got those projections we were talking about last week." sana bounds up to you outside your lecture hall.
"sana? how did you even know i had class at this time?"
"i asked around." she shrugs as if it wasn't a big deal for her to actively be looking for you and for her to know your schedule, "here- what do you think?" she hands over a few documents and you shuffle to the side so students can continue moving in and out. that also meant you were basically boxing yourself into the small corner next to the door with sana blocking your way out. you can feel a few weird glances look your way, wondering how you of all people knew one of the most popular girls on campus.
"it looks good sana."
"great! are we still on for tomorrow night? coach put nayeon and i in charge of practice this week but i may have bribed nayeon into running it herself so we can spend some more time on the project without her nosy self at home."
you nod, handing back her papers, "yeah, i'll be over around 6?"
"sounds good! see you then!" and then she's kissing your cheek and flying off before you can react, your hand coming up to touch where she had pecked you seconds after she's gone.
"-don't know what she sees in them."
"right- you think y/n's paying sana or something?"
"no way sana would do that though. i bet she's just using y/n for help with study or whatever."
"nah i've seen sana's marks, she doesn't need the extra help. maybe she's just toying with y/n. could be a dare or maybe she just has a nerd kink, or wants to try it out once and drop her."
"oh true hahaha i'd almost feel bad for y/n but it is pretty funny watching her prance around sana like she has a chance."
the sounds of laughter drift down the hallway as you stay rooted to the spot, completely invisible to the rest of the student body.
were they right? was sana just pulling you along? fuck you were so stupid. of course she knew you had a crush on her. everyone had a crush on her. you thought you knew sana but now you were starting to doubt your perceptions of her all over again. ugh you couldn't do this. you felt so embarrassed thinking about the amount of time you've spent with sana. all that for her to just be stringing you along, maybe even laughing behind your back with all her friends, you were so stupid for thinking you'd ever move out of your miserable social status. you were at the bottom of the social hierarchy, and she was at the top, it would always be that way, and people at the top don't want anything to do with people at the bottom unless it's for their own benefit or entertainment. sana was not an exception.
༺☆༻
santana💜: hey u still coming over? i maaaay have tried to cook dinner for us both even tho momo always warns me not to step foot in the kitchen and ig she was right this time... so i'll order takeaway? thai food okay?
santana💜: everything okay? sorry if thai food wasnt ur style >< i can order sth else instead but the foods getting cold :((
santana💜: im guessing ur not coming :( hope everythings okay w u!! ill see u at school soon 🥺
༺☆༻
you’ve been trying your best to avoid sana ever since you overheard what those people thought of your relationship with her. it was difficult when she would send you daily texts asking where you were and how you’ve been, even i miss you texts with the little sad face emoticon that had your fingers aching to text her back but you resisted. this was for the best.
but of course as soon as you started avoiding her you also started seeing her around campus a lot more than you used to. she’d pop up everywhere you were, at the library, in the hallways, on the fields, you’d always manage to shy away from her gaze but you don’t think she was doing this on purpose. maybe it was just the fact that because you were avoiding her, you were a lot more noticeable of her presence.
it was hard to keep this up though, especially when the time of the week came that you shared the class you had been assigned project partners in. you had seriously considered faking sick when you woke up in the morning, thinking she could manage class on her own and you’d just email her your parts of the assignment or something. but you got out of bed reluctantly and trudged to class, coming up with as many excuses as possible for having not responded to any of her messages and ditching your last meetup.
you sigh in relief when you walk into class and see that people are still milling about, slowly trickling in, and sana’s seat is still empty. you slink to the back of the classroom, pulling your hood up and turning on your laptop to tap mindlessly at the keyboard, hiding your face behind the screen.
you can hear when the class starts filling up, sliding down further in your chair and avoiding eye contact with everyone.
you can also hear the moment sana walks in, flanked by her friends with that high-pitched laugh and sunshine energy, the class suddenly seems twice as bright as it was. god you missed her. and that was pathetic of you! she didn’t even care about you! you stay resolute in your avoidance, only allowing yourself a second to bask in her voice before closing yourself off again from the outside world.
it’s only when the teacher walks in and starts reading the roll, that you have to squeak out a small ‘here’ when they read out your name. you avoid her gaze when you speak up but you can see in the corner of your eye, sana whips her head around and stares at you with wide eyes, her mouth open in surprise. you shrink back down but she continues to stare at you for a few more seconds before frowning and facing back forward when her name is called out.
you spend the rest of class hiding behind the screen of your laptop, formulating a plan on the fastest way to get out of class once it's over so you don't have to talk to sana.
unfortunately, the teacher seems to have taken notice of your lack of participation, when usually you're the only one in the class who is able to answer their questions, or even mildly paying attention, so you're pulled back when you try to escape, the rest of the class chattering excitedly while leaving class.
"what's wrong y/n?"
"nothing. sorry, just not feeling the best today."
the teacher eyes you, "is the pair project going alright? you didn't sit with sana today."
you gulp, "it's fine."
"are you sure? if sana's making you do all the work you'll tell me won't you?"
your eyes widen, "no! no sana's a sweetheart she-" you catch yourself, sana wouldn't really be a sweetheart if she was playing with you would she? "she's been great, she's contributing and pulling all of her own weight and more. to be honest... i'm probably the one who's not doing my part right now..."
the teacher hums, "alright y/n. let me know if there's anything i can do for you. go home and rest."
you nod, adjusting the straps of your backpack and trudging outside.
only to find sana waiting outside the classroom with her arms crossed, tapping her foot in the way she does when she gets annoyed.
as soon as your outside she doesn't spare you a second glance, grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the closest empty classroom and closing the door behind the both of you, standing against it so you have no way of escaping.
"wh- sana! sana what are you doing? i have class!"
"no you don't. the only class you have on wednesdays is the one we share. after that you normally go home or to the library before getting dinner outside."
"what- how do you- have you been stalking me?"
she frowns, "have you been avoiding me?"
"i- what makes you think that?"
"you didn't come last week. and you haven't been answering any of my messages. and i'm not stalking you i just thought we were friends and i like to know my friends' schedules, so when you didn't turn up to any of your usual study spots...i got worried. i thought you were sick or something. but then i saw you at the dessert shop outside the council centre where i volunteer and you didn't look sick at all. in fact, as soon as you saw me you were healthy enough to run off."
you gulp nervously, stepping back, only for sana to step forward. your eyes flit around, looking for any possible exit or distraction, anything would be better than confronting sana right now.
"i just- um- i-"
sana pouts, "did i do something? you'd tell me if i did right?"
"no! you didn't do anything. i just- um-"
she raises an eyebrow. you fiddle with your fingers, unable to look her in the eye.
"w-what do you want with me?"
sana doesn't seem to expect this answer. "what do you mean?"
you sigh in frustration, running a hand through your hair, "it doesn't make sense. why would you want to be friends with me? you're popular and smart and beautiful and you don't hang out with people like me."
"is that what this is about?"
"no- well- yes- i overheard the other day, some people talking about how you were only using me or that you didn't have good intentions with me and i just- i didn't know what to do."
"and what do you think?"
you look up at her then, her gaze is steely, there's no hint of her usual smile. "w-what?"
"is that what you think of me? that that's the kind of person i am? that i'd do that to someone?"
you're taken aback, "i- n-no! i-"
"then why did you listen to them? you're not stupid y/n i know you can form your own opinions on people. you're not like the others, or at least i thought you weren't. i didn't think you'd judge people off of what you've heard about them, i thought we were friends y/n."
"i didn't i- we are- i just-"
you take another step back, needing to create distance between the two of you, needing to think without sana's presence making your head all muddy. but with each step back you take, sana takes one forward.
"was there something else? were you looking for a reason to avoid me?"
another step back, another step forward.
"no! i- i didn't-"
"tell me the truth? please?" you're backed into the wall, nowhere left to go, and sana only steps closer. you can feel your heart rate picking up at her proximity, she's looking up at you, puppy eyes and a pout on her lips, you were so weak.
"n-no i don't- there's nothing else-"
"hmm." she's so close you can see the way her eyelashes flutter when she blinks, can feel her breath on your lips.
you can feel how hot your cheeks are, sweat collecting in your clenched fists. she's studying you, eyes flicking over your face, when your tongue pokes out to wet your lips, purely out of habit and stress, her eyes dart down and watch the movement, snapping back up to your eyes once you were done.
and then suddenly, she blinks and there's a change in the atmosphere. there's a curl of her lips, her eyes conveying something you can't quite decipher.
"do you... like me y/n?"
you blush impossibly brighter, "i-i- well- i-"
then her lips are on yours, just the barest brush of her skin against yours, like a sigh against your lips, but when she pulls away, she doesn't go far, her lips still hovering over yours, looking up at you through her eyelashes.
"it's okay if you do."
you're completely dumbstruck, hand twitching, wanting to reach up and feel your lips, to see if this was really happening.
"because i'd be lying if i said i didn't find you attractive."
your mind goes blank, struggling to catch up. "w-what?"
"i don't kiss just anyone. nayeon may have made that comment about how many people i bring home but none of them compare to you. you're different. you don't want me just because i'm pretty and easy."
"i- i-"
she leans in, pecking you softly again, before leaning back fully to give you space, turning on her heel. "think about it y/n. once you have an answer, stop avoiding me. you know where to find me." and then she's stepping outside the classroom, and you feel like you can finally breathe again, letting your brain catch up to what your body just experienced.
༺☆༻
it takes you a few days to fully come to your senses.
sana stops actively searching for you, but you still see her around campus, only she seems to have decided to give you space, not acknowledging you if you saw her in public or walked past her.
so sana obviously knew you liked her. it just didn't make sense that she could like you too. you took days trying to find any way this could've happened, tracing over every interaction you've had with her in your head over and over, trying to find any clues for her feelings towards you.
it crossed your mind briefly that this was another one of her possible ploys to embarrass you. but she was right when she confronted you, you didn't think she was that kind of person, and none of her actions or the time you've spent with her indicated that she was that kind of person, you needed to trust your own eyes and feelings, sana was being genuine.
it just baffled you how this was possibly genuine, how it was possible for sana to like someone like you. and the only way you'd be able to find out was to talk to her.
you inhale, standing outside sana's apartment. you knew momo had dance practice at this time and nayeon had told you she wouldn't be home because she was meeting up with some friends, so it would just be sana at home.
you knock tentatively, stepping back and collecting your thoughts.
it doesn't help though, because when the door opens, all comprehendible thoughts fly out of your mind, replaced with the mental energy required to memorise sana, her hair up in a messy bun, oversized t-shirt and sweatpants, large glasses on, looking like she just woke up from a nap.
sana's eyes brighten when they see you, leaning against her doorframe and raising an eyebrow expectantly.
"h-hi sana."
"hey yourself. what are you doing here?"
you take a deep breath. you had prepared for this. "why do you like me?" well that was not what you had prepared.
sana smiles amusedly, "i told you. i like that you see me for who i am rather than who i present myself to be. i think you're very cute, you get along well with my friends, you're incredibly smart, and even though you think a little too much over what other people say, we can work on that."
your eyes widen at her answer.
"it's simple y/n. do you want to be with me or not? don't overthink it. we can work out any issues that come up overtime."
"i..." you look down to your feet, blushing, then looking back up to her, "yes. i do want to be with you."
sana grins then, not missing a beat, swooping in and kissing you gently, tasting of berries and sunshine. when she breaks apart, finally welcoming you into her apartment, she teases, "i finished our project by the way. you owe me. but i'll accept kisses as payment."
you whine, finally letting yourself be free around her, no longer hesitating to do what you've wanted to this entire semester, bring her up into a kiss that hopefully makes up for the utter loser you've been in her presence.
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meanbossart · 29 days ago
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im so curious-- how well does DUDrow get on with the other companions? I've only seen your art and going off that I feel like: he gets along with Shadowheart, Gale I think he borderline cant stand, and Wyll/Lae'zel/Karlach I have no idea how he'd feel about them but id love to know!
So, funfact, because I was not familiar with these kinds of games at the time I played BG3, I practically stuck with the same exact party the entire playthrough. I distinctly remember swapping Wyll in for Astarion once at the end of act 2 because I thought he NEEDED to be there to find Mizora, and I replaced Gale with Karlach when I went to kill Gortash. Otherwise... It was pretty much always just DU drow, Shadowheart, Astarion and Gale. I did this because they were the characters I liked most, so I wanted to see all they had to offer.
Anyways, I mention this because it reflects how DU drow related to everyone - which is to say that he didn't. He picked his favorites (two because he liked them, one because he has fireball) and didn't get particularly close to anyone else.
BUT, there were definitely notable dynamics!
Lae'zel: She's dead. He killed her night 3 or something. Before that he thought her annoyingly demanding and over the top. I don't think DU drow even remembers her by the end of the game.
Gale: Just to add to your original observation, Gale and DU drow have a little bit of history. Gale tries, for about half of the campaign, to pursue him romantically. DU drow keeps turning him down and is either misinterpreted or ignored, and by the time Gale does give up on him their relationship has completely soured to the point where they are constantly shooting daggers at each other. (this reflects a romance bug I got in my first run, except I didn't realize it was a bug. Either way I think its more interesting storytelling than the intended experience.)
Wyll: DU drow was profoundly frustrated by Wyll every step of the way. He found him to be incredibly naive and a bit delusional in his pursuit for heroism, and could never relate to Wyll's perspective or choices - the few he made for himself, at least. They definitely had the least in common and DU drow avoided interacting with him most of the time.
Halsin: He didn't care for Halsin much. He was vaguely helpful but by the time they got to the shadow-cursed lands DU drow had the impression he'd only been dragged here to help him clear his conscience, which he didn't appreciate. Also, he couldn't bear to have someone in camp be taller than himself. Halsin was left behind in Act 2.
Jaheira: DU drow fucking loves Jaheira. They bickered and borderline insulted each other and had a great time doing it. He can respect anyone who will call him a monster, threaten to murder him in his sleep, and make light fun at him the next day. It helps that she's hot, also.
Minsc: Weird hamster man. Ocasionally rendered him speechless. Puzzling human being.
Karlach: He didn't get Karlach, but he was often amused by her and curious enough to want to hear what she had to say. There was a similar issue here as Wyll's where he just couldn't relate to her enough to have much to discuss, but Karlach at least had an edge to her that made her far better company. They got along pretty well when the topic wasn't serious, but when it came to the problems she actually faced their perspectives shifted significantly. DU drow thought everything could be fixed, that accepting her own demise was a cowardly thing to do - and as they approached the end, and she asked him if he would stay with her when she died, he thought she was weak. I don't know if he ever discusses it with anyone, but he feels guilty about her death to this day and sees it as personal failure.
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pinkberrytea · 8 days ago
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Astarion is nervous, possibly even afraid that he is about to lose something—that you are about to lose something, something precious and dear to him.
I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes.
Enjoyment beyond the death drive—beyond the self-imposed regulation of pleasure. He wants her, so desperately, so ardently; yet she escapes through his fingers like fine sand, falling on the ground and dissolving in the dirt above his grave.
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Astarion x Tav (F!Reader)
w/c: 3k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers
a/n: this is the sequel to la petite mort! while it was initially intended as a standalone oneshot, I wanted to expand on the themes introduced in the original. hopefully it lives up to its predecessor! thank you to the wonderful @xxnashiraxx for giving this one a read, I love you dearly friendo!
tags: blood drinking; hurt & comfort; possessive behavior; masturbation; hand jobs; body worship; dry humping
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“Astarion…?”
His name slips from your lips before you even open your eyes, your consciousness slowly returning as you are suddenly woken from restless sleep. You feel his naked chest pressed flat against your back, his cold skin robbing you of the warmth of yours; his strong arms encircling your waist, hands roaming your sides; and his fangs, sank deep into the crook of your neck as his wet tongue laps up your crimson, which leaks from the corners of his mouth, dripping down his jaw and onto your shoulders. There is no pain—rather, the sensation is almost pleasurable, familiar, which comes as no surprise considering it’s been months now ever since his nightly feeding sessions became a daily occurrence. You don’t even bother setting up your tent anymore; upon leaving the Shadowlands, he’d begin routinely insisting that you sleep in his, heedless of your mutual agreement to abstain from more carnal proclivities for the time being. “Oh, darling, wouldn’t you say it’s much easier for me to dine with you this way? As hard as it will be for me to keep my hands to myself, I did give you my word,” he’d say, and true enough, you had yet to go beyond very heated kissing and groping—regardless, here he is now, avidly drinking from you while grinding the throbbing bulge inside his pants against your rear.
“Shh. It’s alright, love. Go back to sleep.” Astarion unlatches from your bruising vein to whisper the words in your ear, and you are almost tempted to do just that, but it’s far too late; ignoring him or the erection poking at your backside is no longer an option, and he probably realizes that too, having stopped gliding his hands up and down your torso to gently rest them on your arms instead. You are wearing his shirt, a habit you’ve taken to in recent days—at first you’d lie and say it was because you didn’t want your own to become soiled with blood, though in truth you simply enjoy the intimacy of sharing clothes and the comfort of being enveloped in his scent. Despite seeing right through your excuses, Astarion didn’t seem to mind at all; quite the opposite, he appeared to enjoy the fact that you’d start sleeping clad in nothing but his shirt and your underpants, since oversized as it is, the length would be enough to cover your crotch and thighs. He likely didn’t factor in your agreement, of course—while convenient in most other circumstances, the ease of access wouldn’t exactly be conducive to chastity, so to speak.
Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you groan and twist your body to face him. He moves one of his hands to your scalp, lovingly running his slender fingers through your tousled hair and planting a bloodstained kiss on your temple. When he finally pulls away to meet your stare, a shiver unexpectedly runs down your spine; his pupils are blown out, almost completely eclipsing his sanguine irises, yet you can undeniably see something primal and hungry lurking in their depths. The candle you had lit before turning in for the night burns bright still, and the light of its dancing flame bounces off his sharp teeth, which had been puncturing your own flesh but moments ago. How easy it is to forget what the heart wants to deny—whenever the true nature of his vampirism rears its ugly head, you find yourself questioning your blind trust in him. Yet like a passing breeze, just as soon as that sliver of doubt weasels its way into your mind, it’s then gone; foolish though it may be, you don’t fear the darkness in him, not now, not when he first put a knife to your throat. 
“You’re not a victim. Not a target. Not just one night it’s better to forget.”
Tentatively, you reach out to lightly stroke his cheek, the pads of your fingers ghosting over his ivory skin. His eyelids flutter close as if by instinct, and he quietly leans into your touch, looking almost vulnerable for a moment. Ever so delicately, you trace the lines on his face, his high cheekbones, his cupid’s bow, his plush lips, which are parted still. It amazes you how his features can be at once so edged yet so soft, much like the man himself, in a way. No, you don’t fear him, even if he has given you no reason not to other than a heartfelt confession.
“I—I could help you, you know,” you hear yourself mumble, almost bashfully, a faint glow spreading across the bridge of your nose and warming the tips of your ears. “With that, I mean.” Astarion furrows his brow and his eyes flit back open in confusion, only to slightly widen as you coyly motion with your head towards his obviously tented pants. He looks down at his groin and then up at you, unsure of what to think, much less of what to say. It’s not often that he is left wanting for words, but then again, you were ever one to drag him out of his comfort zone. 
“You are full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“Oh, you little rascal.” Despite the initial shock, he quickly regains composure, almost too quickly. His expression abruptly changes, gaze laced with seduction and lips quirked upwards into a practiced smirk. “Who would’ve thought you’d be the first one of us to acquiesce? I’ll admit your innocent facade had me fooled, but you’re quite the needy thing underneath those big round eyes and blushing cheeks, aren’t you, darling?” he teases, voice lowering an octave, its cadence measured to an almost unnerving degree. Your mouth becomes dry and your stomach coils into a tight knot as you immediately recognize his sudden shift in attitude, a side of him you’ve come to know all too well and that disturbs you still—yet even more worryingly, his otherwise perfectly poised countenance seems to enshroud an emotion that had never been there before: anxiety. Astarion is nervous, possibly even afraid that he is about to lose something—that you are about to lose something, something precious and dear to him. 
“I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to.”
“No! That’s… I didn’t mean it like that,” you blurt out, heart fluttering in your chest, so loudly you are sure he can hear it. While you have never gone over the terms of your agreement or discussed them in-depth, you had always assumed that physical intimacy wouldn’t necessarily be off the table, especially the kind of intimacy that would require nothing of him. Although perhaps therein lies the problem—someone who perceives everything as transactional would naturally fail to accept that another would be willing to give without taking. Remorse washes over you as you realize your mistake, which you promptly try to mend, much as the guilt bars you from looking him in the eyes. “What I meant is… I can take care of it. For you.”
Astarion’s eyebrows slowly slide up his forehead and he studies you intently for what seems like an eternity, clearly taken aback. Before long, he finally breaks the silence, humming quizzically and untangling his fingers from your hair. “Hm? Is that right?” he hesitates, only to yet again flash you a sly smile, a much softer one this time, ruby irises twinkling with something akin to melancholy. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” Despite provocatively purring each word, the tone with which he speaks is remarkably gentle, almost uncertain. Bringing a hand to your chin, he cups it delicately and tilts your head upwards, prompting you to meet his stare, its flirtatious edge now replaced with wistful warmth.  
“You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”
You inhale sharply, your brief show of boldness having obviously run its course, and the pink flush coloring your ears deepens into a bright red. His smile widens once he notices your nervousness, and he brings his face even closer to yours, so close you can feel his lashes tickling the delicate skin under your eyes. His cool breath caresses your lips, the metallic scent of blood—your blood—wafting up your nose. Still cupping your chin, he at last closes the distance between you, covering your mouth with his and hooking a leg over your waist to pull your bodies flush together. With the swell between his thighs now nudging your belly, he starts leisurely rolling his hips, resuming what he had been doing before rousing you from your slumber.
“Hnng…” As you bury your fingers in his silvery curls, melting into the kiss and relishing the taste of him, Astarion lets out a muffled moan, low and throaty. Wetness starts pooling between your folds, though instead of indulging in the sensation, you try to ignore it to the best of your ability—tonight is not about you, and you want him to know this. Regardless, he can obviously smell your arousal, but far from causing any upset, it only serves to entice him further; sliding his free hand down your back, he firmly grabs one of your buttocks with a bruising grip upon reaching your ass, kneading it roughly. All this time, he’d been graciously accepting your generosity, and then some—he’s not about to stop now, not when for once he knows he hasn’t manipulated you into extending your kindness to him.
“It’s been so long since I’ve had to decide what I wanted.”
“Mngh—Astarion…” you mewl into his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside yours, fangs nipping at your bottom lip without breaking skin. You press one of your palms to his chest, feeling the firmness of his pectorals under the soft pads of your digits before gingerly sliding them downwards, raising a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Drawing small circular patterns, you slowly glide your blunt nails across the valleys of his ribs, his navel, and finally his lower abdomen, teasingly grazing the waistband of his pants.
“My, such a good little helper you are,” Astarion breaks the kiss to murmur against your reddened lips, and moving his hand on your chin down to grasp your own, he encourages you to venture under the waistband. Your fingers now intertwined with his, you let him guide you to the hardness pushing against his smallclothes, which are damp with precome, much like yours are damp with slick. You can feel the outline of his length through the thin fabric, and he unceremoniously has you both fist it, wiggling his hips so that his pants drop below the plump of his behind. 
“Such a good, selfless little helper…” he croons, sliding both of your hands up and down his still covered cock. With every pump, his groans grow huskier, small beads of sweat pooling in the creases of his forehead. His eyes are now closed, his mouth slightly parted, and his hold on your hand is strong, if not binding. Your dripping sex wantonly clenches around nothing at the sight of him, so hopelessly focused on his own pleasure; gods, how desperately you wish to be stretched open around his enlarged girth, stuffed full of him until you are both flailing for purchase, panting and screaming each other’s name. He may not be ready for that yet, but as your imagination wanders, you tell yourself that there’s no harm in picturing him taking you from behind, balls swinging and hitting your ass as he thrusts deep into your slit with reckless abandon; your lips wrapped around his flushed cockhead, one of his hands mercilessly tugging at your hair as he sings you praises; you bouncing on his lap, buttocks slapping against his legs with each bob of your body.  
“Astarion…” you moan, rubbing your thighs together to get some relief from that small amount of friction. His cock jerks under your combined hands, so hard now that his smallclothes are pulled back enough to reveal the swollen tip. How sweet is the sound of his name on your tongue, how sweet is the scent of your desire when he is the one you yearn for. Just as you fantasize about him, Astarion too keeps replaying all sorts of scenarios in his head—he hates that he can’t have you yet, that he can’t pin you to a wall or throw you on a table and fuck you until you beg him for mercy; he hates that he can’t watch your cute little tits jiggle as your tight cunt swallows him whole, that he can’t coax pretty noises out of your rosy lips and make your eyes water as you come for him. He hates that his lust for you is tainted, that his lust for you is what inspired him to choose you as his target in the first place. Most of all, he hates himself for having disregarded you as a beautiful fool; for having underestimated his own susceptibility to falling in love, for having even fallen in love at all. 
“You’re a vision. And you’re so much more than that.”
“Gods, I want to be inside you…” Astarion grunts, letting go of you to pull down his smallclothes, finally freeing his weeping erection. It glistens in the candlelight, red and hungry, and you waste no time wrapping your fingers around its base. A muted whimper falls from his lips once your warm skin collides with his, and he rolls his hips into your hand, to which you respond by lightly squeezing him, drawing pearly, sticky liquid from the twitching crown. “Gentle, darling…” he whispers, though his half-lidded eyes, hazy with want, show no sign of aggravation—despite the commanding tone of his voice, it’s safe to assume that the instruction is not so much a complaint as a suggestion. Regardless, you obey, stroking him softly and setting a sensual pace to your movements.
“That’s it. That’s it, love. Good girl…” With his newly freed hand, Astarion tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tenderly brushing his long fingers against your cheek before inconspicuously running them down the elegant column of your neck. His gaze is immediately drawn to the fresh set of bite marks maculating your otherwise perfectly smooth skin, and he absentmindedly licks his lips upon noticing the ruby droplets blooming from the small wounds. His cock throbs against your palm as he lowers his head to plant a loving kiss on the spot earlier claimed by his fangs—which he then sinks again into the still seeping artery. This time, you feel a sharp sting, but as soon as he starts sucking, the pain fades away; he wraps an arm around your upper body to hold you in place as he drinks, cradling you against his chest, and his other hand quickly finds one of your breasts under your—his—shirt. Trapping its puckered peak between two deft digits, he pinches it playfully, and you are unable to stifle the whine that subsequently forms in the back of your throat.
“Asta—aah…” You try to remain focused on the task you’ve been entrusted with, tightening your grip on him to remind yourself that he is the priority, not you. This in turn causes him to moan against your neck and shove his hips forward; taking his reaction as a cue, you speed up the tempo of your strokes, which are now almost synchronized with the vigorous bobbing of his Adam’s apple. His hand on your breast gropes it passionately, all five of his fingers now splayed across its soft swell and digging deep into the squishy flesh. He wonders if it’s a deliberate act of provocation, or if you really are so naïve that you wouldn’t notice his ravenous stare whenever your nipples pebble and become visible through the white sheerness of his shirt. Knowing you, it’s probably the latter; he’s yet to meet anyone as oblivious as you are, and while he has learned to accept that this side of you is not necessarily a weakness, it also awakens in him a protective instinct—a possessive instinct. You may be prey, but you are his prey; his to feed on, his to fuck, his, and nobody else’s.
“Honestly, I have no idea what we’re doing. Or what comes next.”
Astarion bends the leg hooked around your waist to pull you even closer to him, and from the way his groans increase both in frequency and in volume, you can tell he is about to fall over the precipice of ecstasy. The glossy sheen of sweat covering his pale skin makes him look like a marble sculpture, an otherworldly creature, yet the ferocity with which he feasts on your crimson reveals him not touched by the divine, but consumed by sin. It’s almost ironic then, that sinful as his longing for you may be, it feels so pure, so sacred. Tension coils low in his stomach, and for once there is no guilt, no disgust, no contempt; only rapture, as if he were an apostate and your love a haven, a promise of sanctuary.
“But I know that this?”
You pump him one last time, and with a guttural growl, Astarion comes in your hand, spurting out ribbons of his seed all over his own abdomen and thighs. Unlatching from your neck, he doesn’t bother pulling away, bloodied lips still pressed against your heated flesh, and his hand that had been under your shirt joins the other as both of his arms fold around your midriff. You let go of his softening length to run your fingers through his curls, closing your eyes and trying to catch your breath, tiredness suddenly weighing down all of your limbs and anchoring them to your bedroll. Lulled by the gentle pounding of your heart, he too empties his mind and lets himself be engulfed by the warmth of your body, so soft, so inviting, so very alive. Your taste still lingers on his tongue, your lifeblood now mixed with his within his veins—as his happiness trickles down in rivulets of scarlet, yours soars into the starry night sky. 
“This is nice.”
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