#it would be a crime if this show ends and she doesn't get on next year

[apatheticsunday]

Henchmen for Hire

AKA "Danny is employed as one of the Rogue's henchmen and he's doing so well at being discrete, none of the Bats even know he's committing crime! (They absolutely know.)" prompt idea!!

Y'know what would make this funnier?? Is if Selina Kyle, Catwoman and hoarder of strays, immediately Work Mom'd this kid.

Imagine Danny gets dumped into Gotham by himself. Except there's, like, no ectoplasm - not nearly enough to sustain his Ghost. So, his Ghost form slowly peters out and he's left penniless and powerless on the streets of Gotham. Obviously, the next step would be to find money. But how?? He can't go invisible, intangible, or Full Ghost to help him out here. And there aren't a lot of stand-up places that hire kids younger than 13, so ultimately he's forced to apply for henchmen positions. He doesn't actually find Catwoman's ad. No, she hears through the grapevine that this actual child is applying to be a drug runner for the Penguin or - oh, shit, the Joker??

Absolutely not. Selina is no saint, but she's not going to let another kid be beaten to death by the Joker. Maybe she talks to Harley and finds out where the kid's going, or maybe she just puts in an ad and hires him on the spot. To be honest, she doesn't really expect to particularly like the kid - she'll have him pick up her coffee or something, pay him at the end of the day (standard henchmen pay periods since it's likely they won't live through the end of the week), and clear her conscience.

Except Danny is a little shit.

Danny, for his part, doesn't necessarily want to be a henchman but he figured it'd be more than getting some lady's coffee, right? He imagined an evil man twirling his extra long mustache and smoking a cigar, or mobsters hunched over a gambling table grunting about... playing cards or something, he doesn't know. Instead Danny's told to pick up Catwoman's dry-cleaning. It's almost an insult when he knows she's planning a heist that includes stealing several very expensive items from a museum during an evening showing. Without him, her only henchman!! (So what if he snooped in her office? It's not like it's ghost-proof; she should've expected Bad Behavior from the Very Bad Criminal in her house.)

Selina finds out very quickly that Danny is akin to a rambunctious kitten chewing through her phone charger cable and clawing at her favorite muslin blanket (the one Bruce gifted her from one of their dates). And she's so exasperated that she agrees he can be involved. But only as a distraction and he's told that he needs to scram once the police come because she's not bailing him out of juvie if he gets caught. (She wouldn't, but she could make Bruce do it. Her lover would take one look at Danny's watery doe eyes and cave like he's already experiencing Empty Nest Syndrome.)

So, Catwoman and her littlest henchman plan to rob the Gotham Museum. She buys him a cat-themed facemask (in case things get sticky and he needs a quick anonymous getaway) like ones from Party City, it has little ears poking out from the top and it's adorable. And then it's go time.

Danny's role is to distract the crowd by pretending to be a lost kid and distract Batman if he shows up. Selina will take care of the rest - disarming the alarms, timing the museum workers' shifts, bribing the West Entry security guard, frame-freezing the surveillance cameras, smuggling in the forgery and smuggling out the original, and - well. It'll be nice not to deal with the Big Bat if he shows up, but Selina is used to doing this on her own.

She should've expected that Danny doesn't do what's expected.

Because Danny does his part as the crying, screaming child whose mother is lost amongst the chaos once the museum's power shuts off. He distracts the guards easily. Selina hides away the art, replaces the forgery on the wall, and goes to find her little stray. And Danny is clinging hysterically to The Batman, refusing to be pried off by security guards and museum workers. He's straight up sobbing. Talking about how he loves Batman and Robin, his family is dead, he wants to be Robin, did you know you should be able to see Ursa Major from Gotham but you can't because of the smog, do you think Poison Ivy can just make a lot of trees to unpolluted the air, Nightwing is his favorite superhero, do you think he'll sign an autograph-.

It's astounding how fast that kid can speak while also smearing green snot onto Batman's cape. Danny proves himself to be even more unexpected when he goes off-script, eyeing her and screaming, "Mom!" And Batman's eyes catch hers. Shit. How can she explain a tiny child calling her mother in front of her lover? That'll be an awkward conversation.

Catwoman doesn't take Danny to outings after that. Instead, she has Harley and Ivy take turns "babysitting" (i.e., using Danny as Batfam distractions) while she's at work, kind of like having the fun aunts take you shopping. Danny can do whatever he wants!! With the exception that he needs to be wearing his cat-mask at all times, to properly conceal his identity (neither woman knows he'd already thrown himself at Batman without his mask).

So, while Ivy is destroying a toxic power plant, Danny is stealing Nightwing's escrima sticks, clinging to him, "accidentally" tripping him, doing the Koala-leg thing. He goes all out when Nightwing actually does trip on him - he shrieks that he broke his arm, which forces the vigilante to pay attention to him. Sobs, clings harder, and endures the trip to the hospital on the back of Nightwing's motorcycle with a shit-eating grin.

Harley is beating the hell out of some of Joker's gang. Red Robin is doing surveillance and coordinating with GCPD so they can get the whole circus to Arkham. Except Danny is calling out where Red Robin is hiding with the glittery pink microphone that Harley bought him (originally to sing Doja Cat and Chappell Roan in her car). Joker gang's priority will always be the Batfam because of Joker's obsession with Batman and Danny uses the distraction so Harley can get a couple good swings of her bat in. He cackles maniacally when he hears a muffled, "C'mon, kid!!" from Red Robin.

And the Batkids are just like, Jesus, this kid is literally a nightmare. But they can't do anything! Are they going do arrest a kid? No. Are they going to arrest Batman's lover? No! So, they're stuck dealing with this.... absolute gremlin of a child!!

Danny, of course, is very pleased. The Bats have no idea who he is because of his little cat-mask, he's getting paid literally several grand per week, and Selina - who he's been living with ever since she realized he was homeless - even got him goldfish!

(Bruce is in his office, eyes crinkling in that iconic Dad-Smile, scrolling through candid photos Selina snuck of Danny's chocolate-smeared face while the kid was passed out on her couch. There's a fake ID under the name of Danny Fenton and several pages of foraged school records in a pile on his desk. Bruce eyes his desk drawer where several emergency adoption papers are tucked away.)

[jacksabbotts]

spencer reid x fem!bsf!reader tw .' suggestive themes , nsfw ( mdi 18+ )

masterlist | series masterlist | dividers by @cafekitsune | join the taglist

imagine spencer reid getting a boner after looking down your shirt at work

it would start with you sitting next to him on the jet during a normal briefing, tablet in hand. his brain would short circuit for a whole minute ( longer if he'd gotten a glimpse at the lacy blue bra you'd had on ) scratch that, of course he noticed and due to his eidetic memory, he would never forget it

you, however, you had gone and done it on purpose. you would lie and say that you just wanted to show him something in a crime scene photo but you had specifically been wearing his favorite color lingerie and a strategically chosen a white button up with the first two buttons undone in the hopes that he would notice

his whole face would probably turn redder than a tomato and he would have to physically tear his eyes away from your cleavage. it wouldn't even cross his mind that you had wanted him to see it, so he would spiral in to guilt for looking. he would label himself a creep and flush red for a whole other reason

the other reason being that he could feel the his slacks tightening in the area of his groin. his body had betrayed him in a monumental way. and what was even worse is that you were still sitting next to him. your thigh touching his ( dare you say innocently )

he'd apologize to you in his head seventeen different ways. each starting with 'im so sorry, its biological' and ending with 'please, don't stop being my friend'. not that he'd ever have the courage to even begin to broach this subject with you and even if he could, he'd couldn't lie to you

yes, his body was having an uncontrollable reaction to you but he couldn't lie to your face and that that was the only reason

he'd start trying to think of anything else, anything but the color of your bra and what it might look like on the floor of his bedroom. or what you might look like sans the white shirt and deep blue bralette—

no! reid, get yourself together. this is your best friend you are thinking about and she definitely doesn't deserve your perverse thoughts. think about schrödinger’s cat, the fibonacci sequence—

he couldn't even look at you right now. would he ever be able to look at you again? he couldn't last more than two minute without thinking about your face, how would he survive never seeing it again once you decided he was a pervert for looking down your shirt?

his slack were beginning to feel uncomfortable and it was still growing. he reached for his water bottle, bringing it to his lip. when did he get to thirsty? oh my god—

string theory, think of the periodic table, anything other than the curve of her—

'spence, are you ok?' you had interrupted his spiral when you placed your hand on his upper thigh, suspiciously close to his raging boner. the mere touch alone made him grow even more in size. it had also made him choke on his water

he coughed violently and you moved your hand to his back as he leaned forward. but the action, while in attempt to help him, only made him cough harder

'i’m—fine—i just… water went down the wrong pipe.'

you smirked and then returned your hand to his thigh. only this time you placed your hand higher, your thumb rubbed the inseam of his pants. and spencer reid never wanted to die and live at the same time

he stood abruptly. your hand fell from his leg and he fumbled his way around you, desperately trying not to touch you as he tried to get to the aisle. in hindsight he probably should have faced away from you while shimming past as you got a full view of his bulge he tried to so hard to hide

'restroom!' he squeaked and gave you no time to protest

he'd stare at himself in the mirror, bead of sweat beginning to form in his hair line, his glasses slightly fogging

this is fine, just gotta wait it out, spence. five to seven minutes. blood redistribution. standard physiological response. this is science, not—

buzzzzz

he froze and slowly but robotically ( praying it wasn't morgan texting him to say he'd seen spence's little huge problem ) after seeing who it was from, he took back his praying

he'd wished it was morgan, or hotch telling him he was fired for borderline sexual harassment. but he would never be so lucky. no, the text was from you. with bated breath he opened the message

lmk if you need any help with your little problem, spencey

wait, what?!

he swore his heart stopped right then and there. not only had you known about . . . but you were offering to help. his first instinct was to hurl the phone, as if it burned him. the second was to drop dead and hope that if there was some kind of afterlife that it would be kind to him. neither sounded very productive to him.

he leaned against the door and mumbled, 'i'm gonna die in this bathroom.'

THE END

[sswed]

is it a crime?

alexia putellas x policeofficer!reader

A/N: pure unadulterated smut and a g!p reader, thus minors DNI, thanks

part two found here: everybody knows im a good girl, officer

wc 2.6k

Alexia doesn't actually know just how she gets herself in these kinds of situations but this isn't really the time. She's gotten pulled over, in a foreign country, where she can barely speak the language and the only other person in the car is Jana.

Which means that they aren't getting to the stadium on time or maybe even today for that matter.

You gesture for Alexia to roll down the window and she feels her breath get taken away for a moment. You have the sleeves on your uniform rolled up, which allows her a peak at your rather muscular forearms and the vest you're wearing is tight around your chest.

You're like the hot cops out of those weird police dramas that play on the television sometimes and Alexia cannot believe her luck. If you weren't the one pulling her over, she'd ask if you wanted tickets to the game or maybe even her number. 

You knock on the window and Alexia scrambles to roll it down while shushing Jana's giggles.

"Afternoon, ma'am," You say politely while taking a look inside the car.

Jana is sitting in the passenger seat and you can only see two bags on the back seat, both black and from nike. Nothing to worry about really which makes this so much easier to dismiss.

"Afternoon," Alexia replies in a murmur.

"Licence please," You put your hand out and take Alexia's drivers licence to glance over it quickly.

You smile, "Do you know the speed limit here?"

Alexia curses under her breath and looks around, all the street signs show only directions. She's about to get a ticket, in England, while she's running late for pre-match training. She knew that she shouldn't have let Jana convince her to rent a car for the few days they were here.

"Err..."

You laugh a little and smile kindly again, "Where are you from?"

Alexia feels her heart speed up at the dimples on your face and the way you casually lean against the car to run a hand through your hair.

"She's from Barcelona!" Jana leans over Alexia with a grin, clearly she's a little more outspoken than Alexia.

Your eyes lighten up. The time to use your Spanish has finally come and maybe your co-workers would stop teasing you for taking classes every week if you tell them that it has finally come in handy. 

"Right, I'll let you off with a warning this time but be careful and pay attention to the speed limit, okay?"

Alexia is taken aback. Your Spanish is flawless, like a local's and she wonders whether you're from Spain even though you don't look like you are.

"Y-yes, of course," Alexia stutters out and elbows Jana when goes to lean over again.

You pat the hood of her car and lean back, "Have a nice day."

"You too!" Jana waves at you and you wave back as you walk to your police car.

Alexia turns to Jana abruptly, "Never again."

Jana laughs while Alexia starts the car again.

"You thought she was hot, Ale!"

Alexia clenches her jaw and decides to ignore her passenger, instead she turns on the radio and drives to the stadium. This time following traffic rules.

Barcelona won over Chelsea the next day. They go from being two down in aggregate to winning 4-2 mostly due to Aitana and Pina but they all go to celebrate with the fans in the away end.

To Alexia's surprise, you're there with a Barcelona shirt on, hugging Lucy and congratulating her with a pat on the back. The shirt you're wearing is a little tight, clearly not yours but Alexia thinks it looks brilliant on you anyway.

"You have to come to the party!" Lucy's trying to convince you to join their "party" in order to properly celebrate the win and place in the final.

"Don't you have training tomorrow or something?"

You shrug her arm off you and raise a brow. You've known Lucy for a while now, ever since secondary school actually so it would be a sin to miss a game of hers if she's playing in England but that doesn’t stop her from being annoying. 

"Tomorrows a free day," Lucy argues and you sigh, she's stubborn like a mule.

"I have work tomorrow," You try but Lucy doesn't fall for it.

"You have a night shift, so you're free."

You scoff and eventually nod. You'll stay for a maximum of an hour, then when Lucy finally lets you go, you'll take the opportunity to slip away.

The opposite happens. Lucy drags you around to meet everyone, one by one and you introduce yourself to them, mostly using Spanish and before you know it, it's been two hours and a drink later.

"Now this is la Reina or capitana."

You blink a few times. This is the exact same woman that you pulled over yesterday for speeding. It's just your luck to run into probably the most sexy person you've pulled over at an after party and find out that she's a world class athlete.

You try to smile but it comes out like a grimace, "Hola."

Alexia looks just as shocked. You're still wearing that tight Barca shirt that makes your biceps pop and there is now a visible sweat on your forehead from the heat in the room. You look like walking sex and Alexia wishes that you didn't pull her over yesterday.

"Hi," Alexia replies and then takes a sip of her coke.

You nod at her and turn, hoping that Lucy will drag you away but she's gone. Lucy's just disappeared on you and by doing so, she's left you with Alexia. Who is the hottest person you've ever seen and someone so off limits it's ridiculous.

"Err..." You shuffle awkwardly, gripping the glass in your hand tightly.

Alexia is dressed magnificently. Her t-shirt is perfectly cropped just above the waistline of her jeans and you can't help but let your eyes wander over her figure.

"Listen, can we pretend that I didn't stop you yesterday?" You ask sheepishly and relief floods into you when Alexia nods.

It turns out that you and Alexia get on better than you thought you would. Actually, you hit it off. Talk about your dogs, her job and yours, about London and Spain. Then before you know it, you've been at this party for three hours and you're in a bathroom with your back against the door and Alexia's tongue down your throat.

"Shit, Ale.." You mutter through the kiss.

Your hands are firmly placed on her ass, gripping the fabric of her jeans and occasionally kneading into the flesh. She's gasping into your mouth with her strong arms wrapped around your neck so that she can kiss you comfortably.

Then she lets one of her hands fall from your neck to your stomach where your abs flex under the silky material of the shirt. Alexia runs a nail down the middle of your stomach and you groan into her mouth.

You don't think you've ever been harder in your life and Alexia is making it difficult not to do anything. Then she lets her hand drop to your belt and stops kissing you.

You pull back and look at her with hooded eyes. Alexia looks like a vision, her lips are slightly red and pupils are blown wide open, making her eyes impossible dark.

"Can I, Officer?" Alexia smirks and you can't help but groan.

You nod furiously and Alexia unloops her other arm from around your neck and it joins her other one on your belt. She unbuckles it with quick and nimble fingers then slides one of her hands into your trousers.

"Ah, fuck," You gasp out when a hand palms your clothed cock.

Alexia smirks, "Is that a baton in your pocket... or are you just happy to see me?"

You let out a shaky laugh before moaning deeply when Alexia presses her palm firmly against your cock. God, the feeling is beyond deadly. You need her so bad it hurts.

You give her ass a firm squeeze that makes her jump a little. She's teasing you, letting her hands roam around the inside of your trousers without actually slipping into your underwear. It's making the want pool in your stomach at an alarmingly fast rate.

"Don't tease," You say through clenched teeth, you're desperately trying not to moan loudly.

After all, there is no reason to make this a public announcement.

"Sorry, Officer," Alexia mewls then unexpectedly drops to her knees.

The image is one you'll forever have burned in your mind. She's got her hands on the waistband of your underwear, looking up at you expectedly with a cat-like smirk.

Fuck it, you whine loudly, you've stopped caring about what people think. Right now, you only want her.

Alexia takes that as the go-ahead and swiftly pulls down your underwear. She's greeted by your hard cock and you can't help but hiss at the cold air of the bathroom.

She wraps a hand around you and you moan slowly. You need her, so, so bad but you resist the urge to buck in her hand.

"Come on, please..." You groan out, hands splaying on the polished wood of the door.

Alexia obliges you with a smile and takes you into her mouth. It feels like heaven. Her mouth is so wet and warm that your eyes roll back into your head for a moment.

"Shit," You moan out and resist the urge to tangle your hands into her hair.

Alexia swallows down another inch with ease before taking both of your hands and placing them onto her hair. You raise your brows and only card through her scalp with a gentle hand.

This is clearly not what she meant because Alexia looks up at you a few moments later, then pulls off you to speak.

"Need a little encouragement?" Alexia says suggestively and you scoff.

You take a handful of her hair and urge her back down. You aren't shy this time, you let yourself thrust a little into her mouth and use her hair to stabilize yourself.

"That's so good, shit, you're so good," You murmur out praise in quick succession.

Alexia responds by hollowing her cheeks and sucking harder. You see stars then, she feels so good and you know that you're not going to last long if you keep this up.

You tug Alexia back and off your cock, she, in turn, looks up at you with questioning eyes.

"I want to fuck you, can I?"

Alexia smirks and stands while you tuck yourself back in for a moment. This time, you lift her so that she is seated on the sink and lean forwards to kiss her hard.

You can taste yourself on her lips but you don't care. Your hands roam down her body, feeling every mountain and fall and she's palming your stomach with needy hands.

She pulls back slightly, just so you can still feel her breath going into your mouth and her nose touching yours.

Alexia whispers, "Are you going to fuck me, Officer or no?"

"Be patient and you'll find out."

Your hands travel down to her jeans and you quickly discard them so that they are merely a heap on the marble floor. You then place a hand over her pussy, she's soaking wet. So much so that her underwear is drenched beyond belief.

"Someone's needy," You chuckle and Alexia rolls her eyes.

You kneel down and tug her underwear down, then throw them to join her jeans. You look up at her while you lick a long stripe up her cunt and you can feel the way Alexia shudders underneath you.

"Oh God," Alexia moans loudly and you smirk against her.

"No, no, just me, darling."

Alexia goes to roll her eyes again but mid way through, you twirl your tongue around her clit and her eyes roll back into her head involuntarily.

You suckle on her clit with hollowed out cheeks and Alexia howls above you. The whole place can probably hear it but that's the last thing on your mind right now.

You flick your tongue against Alexia and her hands fly to your hair while her legs wrap around your shoulders. There is practically no way out, not with Alexia's strong thighs wrapped around your head but you don't want an escape either way.

It only takes a few more minutes before Alexia is cursing out loudly, her hands tugging your hair in different directions and her thighs are squeezing around your head.

"Shit, shit-" Alexia moans out quickly and you smirk against her.

You use your hands to pry her thighs off your head and stand once again. Alexia's finger ball up the front of your borrowed shirt and drag you closer until she can kiss you firmly.

"If you don't fuck me now," Alexia mutters the threat into the kiss and you smile.

You pull her off the sink then twirl her around and press her to the front of it. You meet her gaze in the mirror and smirk wildly while she looks at you with slightly widened eyes.

"You want this?" You lean forwards to murmur into her ear and you see her nod in the reflection.

You push down your underwear and wrap a hand around your cock, give yourself a few pumps before sliding into her. She's so wet and tight that you immediately screw your eyes shut and join her in a high pitched moan.

"You feel so good,"

You plant your hands on her hips and give a few shallow thrusts. This is everything you wanted when she suggested going to the bathroom.

You close your eyes and let the sensations overtake you for a moment, she's clenching around you each time you bottom out and it drives you crazy.

You open your eyes and meet Alexia's in the mirror again. She's got her mouth slightly open, panting as you speed up your thrusts. It takes a minute until you find a perfect rhythm but when you do, you have Alexia clawing at the porcelain sink .

"Harder!" Alexia whines out and you give her a thrust that sends her forwards from the force.

"Yeah, right there," She's moaning uncontrollably, loudly so that it echoes through the room.

You think about pressing a palm to her mouth, shushing her but you decide that the damage is done. There's no point trying to be quiet when the two of you have already been too loud.

"I'm close," You whimper out while your thrusts become erratic.

"I'm going to come soon, Ale."

"Give it to me, Officer," Alexia winks at you in the mirror and you can't help yourself.

You groan loudly as you come inside Alexia. It feels Godly and you feel her tighten around you as she reaches her peak as well. You moan lightly as you pull out and brace yourself against the sink.

"That... was," You gasp out, breathing heavily.

Alexia catches her breath next to you. She's got a thin layer of sweat on her face that matches yours and her cheeks are flushed red. You turn to look at her and she presses a soft kiss against your lips.

"Fantastic?" Alexia raises a brow and you laugh.

"Yeah, fantastic."

A loud knock sounds on the door and it is followed by a few others.

"You done, capi?" Patri calls out, clearly laughing.

Then she's joined by Lucy, "You were supposed to be my ride!"

Both your eyes widen and you turn to look at Alexia.

"Maybe we should stay here forever?" You say, embarrassed and flushed.

Alexia nods with wide eyes, "Si." 

When you walk out a few moments later, you’re greeted by a crowd of cheers and Lucy’s smirk. 

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Prompt #4

When they all convene at the cave, Alfred is silently wrapping Dick's knuckles. Damian hovers beside him. Tim and Barbara are hunched over the batcomputer, not even sparing Bruce a glance as he strides over.

"Report," Batman grunts. No one reacts.

"Report!"

"Hood pushed his panic button at 2:34 AM," Barbara says shortly, straightening.

The button had been a joke, mostly because Jason would never use it and everyone knew it.

"I patched into his comm at 2:35. This is what I heard initially." At her nod, Tim presses play. What occurs next is a garble. There is the sound of high winds, as if Hood is rushing through the air, even though the comms are designed to filter out any ambiance otherwise the Bats would never hear each other. Interspersed is a mixture of static punctuated by high, inhuman screeches of metal and something else unknown.

"This goes on," Barbara says after thirty long seconds, switching it off. "Red Hood failed to respond to any attempts at contact. I dispatched Nightwing to Hood's location at 2:36 AM. He was approximately two miles away." She pulls up a GPS map of their respective locations, their beacons blinking.

"At 2:41 AM, Red Hood's comm goes off, as does his GPS," Barbara says, swallowing softly as the red beacon indicating Jason disappears. "Nightwing arrives at 2:42 AM."

Dick doesn't say anything, head hanging low as he grips the metal table he sits on. Damian glances between the two of them, expression flat but fists clenched.

"Nightwing, report."

"..."

"Scene was empty, B," Tim speaks up. "No trace of Hood, no sign of a struggle. No cameras in the alley. We've been checking the ones nearby but so far there's no sign of anyone but Hood heading in that direction...and no one, Hood included, caught in the cams heading out, not within that time frame."

"So he's still in the area," Batman concludes. "The local buildings?"

"All the entrances have cameras, which showed no evidence of Hood nor any evidence of being tampered with," Barbara says. "Nightwing, Red Robin and Robin canvased within a half mile radius to check for any signs of disturbances in any of the windows or rooftops but found no evidence to support Hood being taken. A scan confirmed several serial offenders, but when interviewed and searched there was no sign of Hood. Several in the area reported an unusual quiet for Crime Alley."

Batman forces the next question out. "Did you check the dumpsters?"

"Yes," Nightwing grits out. "Empty."

Barbara clears her throat. "I have attempted to reconnect to Jason's GPS and comm as well as restart both remotely but there's no signal at all. The thing is, when there's a disruption like that it usually leaves some sort of sign" she pulls up the audio waves, pointing at the end where the spikes conform into a straight line that makes everyone deeply uncomfortable. Upon playing, the noise from before plays before going abruptly silent. "But there is no large spike, this is clean. It just ends. His GPS is much the same. It's not off, it's just gone."

"I know you don't like to hypothesize this early on, B, but we think this involves a meta," Tim says, rewinding the audio. "We've been running the audio from Jason's comm through different filters, playing with the levels and isolating what we can and, well, take a listen--"

The screeching drops to a sort of muffle and in the background, distantly, they can hear bits of Jason's voice.

"No, I'm not---"

"--don't need--"

"get AWAY from--"

a particularly desperate yell that makes Tim flinch, "I am NOT--!"

and almost a whimper that makes Batman's blood run cold, "please..."

And then, unfairly clear even through the faint garble, Jason says "I don't have a choice, do I."

And a minute later, quietly: "Ok."

The audio cuts off.

The defeat in Jason's last words is palpable, and fundamentally wrong. Jason has never sounded defeated a day in his life, and no one knows how to process Red Hood all but giving his hands over for the cuffs. Nightwing pushes himself off the table.

"I'm going back out there," he growls. No one tries to stop him as he stalks out the cave, not even Alfred.

"I will accompany Nightwing, make sure he does not punch any more walls." Damian says, nodding tightly.

"B?" Barbara asks.

"Keep working on it. See if you can identify what could be making those noises if Hood was standing still in an alley," Batman says, walking towards the zeta tube. "I'm going to make a few calls."

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism Guys: I'm disappointed in you

G/N. (Jakey, Sammy, Goo, Gun, Vin, Ryuhei, DG, Johan, Vasco). Masterlists

You're not pissed off. You're much worse, disappointed.

Hands on your hips, finger dangerously close to wagging and lecturing them.

His intimidating presence does nothing to deter how you feel-

Jake's face drops and his eyes fall to the ground.

Whether he thinks he did anything wrong is one thing, but disappointing you is more than enough for him to feel bad.

He bows, bending at the waist a full 90 degrees and then some, and asks for your forgiveness. Face sincere and of utmost seriousness no matter how petty the crime.

Samuel scoffs and leaves. He doesn't need this.

But he tosses and turns that night, daddy and mommy issues playing up. The need for approval and validation from someone he respects gnaws at him, and he doesn't sleep a wink.

The next day he returns to you, bags under his eyes, pretending to be unaffected by your previous disagreement yet trying to get back into your good graces with expensive gifts.

"Disappointed?" Goo echoes, blinking owlishly, as if he couldn't fathom that he could be disappointing to anyone.

He whines and pouts, and is close to throwing a tantrum. Obviously your words having an effect on him.

In the end he does mutter an apology though you doubt the sincerity, especially if the look in his eyes are anything to go by.

Gun ignores you though you see the defiant twitch in his jaw from your words.

He doesn't care, why should he.

Except you catch him staring at you the rest of the day or week or until whenever your ire ebbs away. There's a strange awkwardness to his being, like he doesn't know how he should act around you.

The apology doesn't come if he thinks it's undeserved and unneeded, but he also doesn't want to see that look in your eyes again.

Vin scoffs, pretends he doesn't care. Calls you a nag, a wet blanket, all sorts of frustrating names.

Yet the guilt eats away at him. Your eyes, the playful expression you usually wear is now just replaced with disappointment.

He tries to involve Mary to worm his way back into your good books, she tells him to piss off and eventually he comes to you, tail between his legs and a poorly formed apology (likely as a rap).

Ryuhei's eyes are suspiciously wet. You think he's sniffling, the tip of his nose turned pink and he's trying to keep a brave face but god, he feels like a complete failure.

He drops to his knees and immediately offers to commit seppuku. When you roll your eyes and tell him to stop being ridiculous, he says he will do anything to make this right. That he would rather die than ever disappoint you again.

DG, usually ruled by logic but too often bratty and arrogant, considers whether this is a hill worth dying on. It's not.

Considers whether it warrants an apology, and it does. But does he deliver? Not always. Lets you simmer until he presents you with a grand gesture and a winning K-Pop smile he reserves for award shows.

His charm works on you less than he'd like, but more than you'd prefer.

Johan looks as if he's been slapped, before turning on his heels and leaving.

It takes him a surprisingly short amount of time to come back, feeling contrite. He doesn't say sorry but the unspoken apology runs round and round his mind.

Instead he drifts to your side constantly like a shadow, trying to catch your eye, seek out some of your warmth and hoping for your forgiveness.

Regardless of what it is you're disappointed with, Vasco Tabasco thinks you are the best. A literal angel descended to Earth that has graced his life.

So if you're disappointed then whatever he is doing must be wrong and is worth apologising for.

He does just that. Offers to make up for it however you see fit. Completely heartfelt even if he doesn't know entirely why.

[shinedoitsulikeabright]

Twins AU

Alright, it seems like people were actually curious about this AU, so I decided to write this post. The OG idea was mine, but then @axt-bs and I worked on it together (also a huge thanks to @bigidiotenergytm for drawing the kiddos). Make sure to show them both some love <3

This is going to be a long post so brace yourselves...

The AU starts after Thunder Bringer. In an attempt to save both himself and his crew, Odysseus used the other ways of persuasion. It worked and Zeus agreed to it. They both believed it would be a one time thing, however, after seeing how juicy Ody's thighs were, Zeus couldn't bring himself to let him leave.

So, he gave him a new ultimatum: he either stays with Zeus and becomes his servant while the rest of his crew returns home safely, or he leaves with his men and they all certainly die. Obviously, Odysseus didn't want to do it, but he had no other choice but to stay. As promised, the crew made it back to Ithaca quickly and safely.

Naturally, it didn't take long for Poseidon to find out what happened. Of course, he was FUMING. Odysseus was his mortal to fuck kill. He went to Zeus and demanded he give him Odysseus so "he can receive his divine punishment and pay for the crimes he committed against him".

Zeus obviously didn't want to, but Poseidon gave him an ultimatum: either he gives the mortal to Poseidon or Ithaca will become the next Atlantis. Now, Zeus himself doesn't care about what happens to Ithaca, but Odysseus does and begs for his island to be spared.

Since Zeus and Poseidon are a match in terms of power, the thunder bringer reluctantly agrees. They end up awkwardly sharing Ody (one year he's with Zeus, another with Poseidon). One day, the two brothers get in a fight and somehow get to the topic of whose sperm is more powerful. They decide to settle it by getting Odysseus pregnant and seeing whose baby he gives birth to.

Anyway, some time passes and it's time for the babies to be born. In order to spare both Odysseus and the potential future child from Hera's wrath, Zeus sends him back to Ithaca. In fact, Zeus had to physically hold Hera back from cursing Ody's entire bloodline.

He also sent Artemis, the goddess of midwives, to help with the delivery. No one knew she would be coming; she just kinda showed up, all disheveled from the woods, at their front door and went to work.

The firstborn was Kyrios, the son of Zeus. Naturally, Zeus was beyond proud about his win and rubbed it into his disgruntled brother's face. He was quickly humbled, however, when the second child (Atlanta) was born and it was Poseidon's. They both just sat there in shock, somewhat disappointed that it was a tie (things like this happened in Greek mythology so it's not like it would be unheard of).

As expected, the two gods are terrible fathers and aren't present at all in the twins' lives. They do care in their own way though. They watch over the entire family from afar and send small, but noticeable blessings to the island (it rarely stormed, the sea was unusually calm, the Ithacan fishermen suddenly start catching more fish etc.)

Since the twins were raised by Ody and his family and never met their fathers, they began to resent them. However, they still also respected them because, well, they were gods. While everyone was able to notice the sudden influx of blessings, to the twins it all appeared normal (since it was that way since they were born, so in their minds, the gods never cared about them).

Odysseus taught them so much and raised them well. He taught them to be loyal to their future partners, so that was yet another reason why they resented their divine fathers (this is also why Hera eventually stops hating them, particularly Kyrios. She sees he's nothing like Zeus and that makes her stop wishing he were dead).

I think that's about it. If you'd like to read about Penelope and Telemachus' thoughts, you can check out this post. If you'd like to see some cute drawings of these little guys, check out this and this post.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask. I'm more than happy to yap about these guys all day :3

[ave-cave]

In Defense of Mahiru's Last Words

An aspect of 2-2 that I think a lot of Danganronpa fans get wrong is Mahiru’s last words to Fuyuhiko. I’d go so far as to call them the most misunderstood last words in the series.

Mahiru's role in the second case is often overlooked in favor of Peko and Fuyuhiko's, and this line encapsulates said role, so I figured I'd try to dispel the misconceptions that surround it. Cool? Cool.

---

First thing’s first, my thesis statement (lol): in response to the well-worn criticism that Mahiru’s last words to Fuyuhiko were hypocritical, I’ll grant fans this much: her words were shortsighted and poorly-timed. They weren’t, however, hypocritical.

More often than not when I see people refer to Mahiru’s last words as hypocritical, they mean that she's condemning Fuyuhiko for avenging his sister, meanwhile her friend who committed an act of revenge received her protection. My issue with this? Sato’s murder of Natsumi wasn’t revenge. The third day of Twilight Syndrome Murder Case (which Mahiru played) has Sato explain in depth why she did what she did. She didn’t confront Natsumi with the intent to kill her; she only wanted to talk at first. But when Natsumi began making threats, she saw red and accidentally knocked her out. Knowing how dire the consequences would be if Natsumi woke up and tattled to her family, Sato killed her and pinned the crime on a rumored pervert. This is further highlighted in the trial.

Now, don’t get me wrong, Sato is still to blame here. No matter how much shit Natsumi was talking, she shouldn’t have responded with violence, and she found herself in that situation through every fault of her own. The key thing is that it wasn’t revenge; it was desperation. By the time Natsumi fell unconscious, it was Sato who was trying to avoid becoming the victim of yakuza “justice.”

Recall that the incriminating evidence Mahiru got rid of was a picture of a broken vase. To anyone who wasn’t there the day of the incident, a photo of this nature would prove basically nothing. Sure, one could surmise that it means the killer didn’t actually escape through the window, but figuring out what they did do, and by extension who they are, would require having run into Sato in the hall (given it isn’t brought up at any point, it’s unlikely there was security footage.) It might arouse suspicion, seeing as there were rumors going around that Sato was with Natsumi the day of the latter's murder, but it wouldn't be able to substantiate anything. Either way, the only people who would have any use for it were the police and the yakuza.

Mahiru protecting Sato from the police wouldn't make much sense at all. Blind loyalty toward her friends – to the point of helping them escape consequences for their actions – isn’t a trait she showcases in the main game. There are a few classmates she shows extra care toward (she’s particularly concerned for Mikan, she sticks up for Peko and she offers to help Hiyoko when the latter is struggling with her kimono), sure, but unraveling the mysteries of the killing game takes first priority for her at the end of the day. Moreover, in Twilight Syndrome, before she realizes that Sato is the killer, she takes pictures of Natsumi's body in the hopes that they'll be useful to the police (this obviously isn't the smartest move, but it's in-character: Mahiru is someone who's always trying to do the right thing despite her lack of self-confidence. She feels guilty about agreeing with the other girls not to report Natsumi’s body, and so she figures that utilizing her talent is the next best thing. We see her do something similar in 2-1.) Going from “I need to help the police find the culprit” to “my friend is the culprit; time to destroy the evidence” is a dramatic shift – one that doesn't line up with anything else we know about Mahiru.

What's a trait she does showcase in the main game? Distaste for cruel and unusual punishment. She sympathizes with Teruteru’s motive, heavily implying that Monokuma shouldn't have executed him, and she criticizes Nekomaru and Kazuichi for hogtying and isolating Nagito, before eventually bringing him food. The second example is especially noteworthy. Nagito got both the Imposter and Teruteru killed – he's an unstable individual, no two ways about it. Mahiru doesn't object to his being restrained; she objects to the over-the-top, vigilante-style methods used by Nekomaru and Kazuichi to do so. There's a clear parallel to be drawn between this and Twilight Syndrome. If she's so against Nagito – a murderer who isn't her friend – receiving inhumane treatment, then there's no question she'd be against it for Sato, a murderer who is.

It's only reasonable to assume that, when Mahiru realized the truth of the incident, she destroyed the evidence for the same reason Sato committed murder in the first place: she knew that, if it got into yakuza hands, there would be hell to pay. She wasn’t too far off the mark, either. The rumors in mind, all it took for Fuyuhiko to connect the dots was witnessing Sato’s failed attempt to discard the sole intact copy of the photo (Mahiru needed at least one if she wanted to corner Sato and coax a confession from her; she couldn't have anticipated that it would be absconded with.) And even if he didn't, say someone else found it: they might report it to the police, yes, but more likely (given the lack of solid evidence) they would start another, more potent rumor – one that would eventually reach the wrong ears, inciting action. All told, Sato was lucky to have only been killed, as the yakuza are capable of much, much worse.

Mahiru didn’t think what Sato did was right. Far from it; she was shocked and horrified when her suspicions turned out to be true. Furthermore, even outside of the TSMC, she believes her covering for Sato is something to atone for, which automatically requires thinking Sato was wrong. But if it was within her power to throw the mafia off Sato’s trail, she absolutely would, including by decidedly immoral means. You don’t have to condone murder to not want your friend to be kidnapped and tortured.

When Mahiru tells Fuyuhiko during their final confrontation that “nobody has the right to judge others for their crimes,” “judge” is another way of saying “take revenge on.” Think the phrase “playing judge, jury and executioner.” Fuyuhiko judged Sato as deserving of death for her crime, and carried out that judgment by murdering her. That’s what Mahiru is condemning. She’s not dismissing his loss – she acknowledges that his sister’s murder was terrible. She’s saying it didn’t give him the right to become a murderer in turn. This isn’t hypocritical; it’s entirely consistent with her actions in the TSMC. She never sought revenge, nor did she enable anyone else’s. She was trying to prevent revenge from the start.

That said, Mahiru isn’t above reproach (if she were, none of this would be happening to begin with.) Though I stand firm that she had every right to be angry here, I can appreciate that Fuyuhiko did, too.

Mahiru went into the beach house intending to figure out how to atone for a sin she couldn’t remember committing. Fuyuhiko went into the beach house intending to kill Mahiru as further revenge for Natsumi. Thing is, Fuyuhiko isn’t a cold-blooded killer. He thinks he's supposed to be, but deep down he’s conflicted. And so, to cope, he has an out: if Mahiru denies the game's reality, he'll call off the plan. He’ll spare her. More than anything, he just wants to believe that none of it happened; his sister isn't dead and Mahiru didn't cover for her killer. But it's too late to hope for denial. He'd already accused Mahiru of the cover-up and sent her the photos as proof, and she’d been taking it very seriously ever since. The threatening letter he left her, combined with her knowledge of the game’s true ending, would have been more than enough to convince the others to apprehend him like Kazuichi wanted – not to mention the most obvious thing to do for her own protection. And yet from the moment she received the letter, the only thing on her mind was making amends. There was no going back.

These conflicting goals are a recipe for disaster. Fuyuhiko, who had initially compelled Mahiru to face her sin, is now wanting her to deny that the events of the game ever took place. Mahiru, who came for help collecting her thoughts, is now face-to-face with the very person she needed to prepare to talk to. Keyword: prepare. Again, the important thing to understand about Mahiru is that, despite her headstrong attitude and emphasis on “doing the right thing,” she doesn’t always know what the right thing is. She lacks the confidence necessary to support her levelheadedness, and so she agonizes and deliberates. Instances of this include:

When she stays quiet as Hiyoko berates Teruteru, claiming he deserved to die, only to come to terms with the issue later (main game).

When she’s implied to spend the night awake pondering what to do about the Twilight Syndrome motive (main game).

When she waits several days before getting rid of the vase picture, showing that she didn't take the decision lightly (TSMC).

When she ruminates over how best to make amends with Fuyuhiko, leading him to think she’s avoiding him (main game).

The fact that, in the TSMC, Mahiru finds herself in a situation that tests her moral compass is what makes her involvement in the case compelling. She’s not someone who believes the ends justify the means, and yet all of a sudden she’s thrust into a scenario where they have to – where “the right thing” (not destroying the evidence) and “the wrong thing” (letting Sato suffer and/or die) intersect. No wonder she handles the entire thing so clumsily; it’s completely foreign to her.

Now consider this situation. Mahiru has been lured to a secluded area. She never got the chance to talk things through with the other girls and hasn’t the first clue about how to make amends. Fuyuhiko has proven that he isn’t all bark and no bite and could actually hurt her if provoked. Hiyoko is nowhere to be found; who’s to say Fuyuhiko hasn’t killed or severely harmed her? It’s a perfect storm of stress. Needless to say, the interaction is already doomed.

Said interaction starts when Mahiru, treating the game as though it were real, asks if Fuyuhiko killed Girl E (Sato). At this, Fuyuhiko is furious. But wait… this whole thing started because Fuyuhiko accused her of being an accomplice to his sister's murder, and yet now, when she's asking about what he did in the game, he says he doesn't want to hear it? When she says he shouldn’t have killed Girl E, he replies that nobody cares? How does this sound to Mahiru? A man who doesn't think he did anything wrong, refusing to accept responsibility? Only at this point does she get angry.

On the other hand, from Fuyuhiko's perspective, Mahiru had been avoiding him ever since he left her that letter, and so the fact that she isn't answering his questions is insulting. Even though he'd already decided on revenge, he’s giving her a chance to avoid the fate he had planned for her altogether, simply by saying she doesn’t remember anything from the game or believe that it happened. Yet not only is she doing the opposite of that, the girl who supposedly tried to protect his sister's killer is claiming that he was also wrong. His anger skyrockets.

All in all, it’s pretty easy to understand where both of them were coming from. In Mahiru’s efforts to protect her friend from revenge, she prevented Fuyuhiko from getting justice for Natsumi in any capacity. There was no way the authorities would believe him, a member of the criminal underworld, over a seemingly normal high school girl – not without evidence. Sure, a picture of a vase wasn’t substantial, but it was something, and she got rid of it. Meanwhile, if Fuyuhiko hadn’t been out for blood, Mahiru wouldn’t have felt the need to destroy the evidence to begin with. In other words, they both felt they had no choice but to do what they did – Mahiru to cover things up, Fuyuhiko to kill. Their goals clashed at nearly every turn, right up to the end.

Mahiru messed up – that I won’t deny. She lost her cool and chastised Fuyuhiko while he was in the middle of interrogating her about his sister. She shouldn't have done that – not because she didn't have a point, but because it wasn't the right time to make it. Chances are if she’d kept treating the game as real, she still would have angered him enough to convince Peko it was necessary to step in, but straight-up condemning his actions more or less sealed her fate. It’s almost ironic how her go-to method of yelling at people to do better led to her death in this instance. Keep in mind, though, it was Fuyuhiko who put her in that position to begin with. He backed her into a corner, deprived her of the chance to think things through and expected her to simply… read his mind and say what he wanted her to say so that he could find an excuse not to kill her. That’s why I don’t think it’s fair to claim she brought her death entirely on herself.

Moreover, her last words in and of themselves weren’t off-target. Fuyuhiko spends nearly the rest of the game trying to atone for rushing into revenge. He realizes that Mahiru was right; “an eye for an eye” is a flawed credo, and it’s through this that he manages to earn the forgiveness of all of his classmates, even Hiyoko. Losing Peko might have been what springboarded his development, but Mahiru’s contribution shouldn’t be understated. Hell, the scenario of Mahiru's death echoes some of Goodbye Despair’s most important themes, namely restoration over retribution and being punished for a forgotten sin. The mindset that certain people deserve to die for their crimes is what leads to much of the cast’s misery, and ultimately the opposite philosophy is what saves them.

Thanks for reading :)

[gublersquill]

To love and be loved by me

Spencer x BAU Reader

Reader spends Valentine's Day alone after Spencer is called out on a case but doesn't tell her.

AN: Hey Loves <3 its been a while im trying to get writing more before i start uni so i could love any requests and feedback.

Ahh I just found out that he read this poem on spotify it’s one of my favourites!!! Linked below <3

TW: Angst. The reader is self-conscious, overthinking, and struggles with insecurity about her looks.

WC: 0.9K

The cloth scrapes across your face, smudging the mascara lines over your cheeks. You throw it aside, leaning on your palms as they press against the porcelain of the sink. Your face hovers over the basin, tears splattering against the alabaster surface.

You shuffle out of the bathroom, curling into a ball on your shared bed. Cold. It was always cold now when you slept—no soft hands tracing circles into your skin, no one there to hold you, to pull you away from the rest of the world, to whisper how much you mean.

Instead, you wrap your arms around yourself, burying your face in your sweater, trying to fight off the tears. You should have expected this—you just dared to hope that, for once, it would be different. That maybe, this time, he would finally stop trying to save everyone else and start trying to save you.

And you know you don’t need saving, You can handle yourself.

But it was just so nice to lean on someone. That had always been one of your favorite things about Spencer—how much he cared, how he always seemed to know exactly what you needed.

Well, he used to.

The book, wrapped in brown paper, sits abandoned on the marble counter. Beside it, your bag rests haphazardly, the metal strap dangling off the edge. It had taken hours of scouring bookstores to find something that felt just right, something that truly fit.

And then, there it was. Sitting in the barely lit corner of a second-hand bookstore, the soft brown leather cover was both worn and inviting. When you opened it, you found a message scrawled on the inside cover:

"With a love that the wingèd seraphs of HeavenCoveted her and me.To my beloved Lillian."

It was perfect. That poem—the one Spencer would recite to guide you into a soft, dreamless sleep.

After buying the book, you added your own note beneath:

"And this maiden she lived with no other thought,Than to love and be loved by me.To my beloved Spencer,Who showed me that love was all around us ."

You huff, sitting up in bed and checking your messages again. It wasn’t as if this was a big deal anyway. You’d always resented Valentine’s Day—the excess of it all made you feel sick to your stomach. But he had always made it special.

You had grown to understand the goofy smiles and the boxed chocolates. One year, he’d shown up at your apartment with a bottle of wine and a leather-bound copy of To the Lighthouse in his hands. He had smiled, so effortlessly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, “I saw it and thought of you,” he’d said softly, his fingers brushing against yours as he handed you the leather-bound book. “I know it’s your favorite.”

You had welcomed him in, and the evening unfolded like magic—sometimes quite literally, as he laughed while pulling the bottle opener from behind your ear. The two of you talked about everything and nothing, sharing greasy takeout and sipping wine. When the night finally came to an end, you fell asleep together, wrapped in his arms, with no idea where you ended and he began.

This is what you think about as you lie in bed alone. It feels silly to be so upset over something so trivial. 

What was it Spencer had said about crimes increasing over the holidays? But he’d promised it would never happen again.

You still remember the sting of that empty seat across from you, the waitress’s pitying glance as you paid for the wine he never showed up to share.

Spencer had of course apologized profusely the next morning—something about a sadistic narcissist. You’d forgiven him. 

 But it just kept happening.

Silence and darkness always unearthed the thoughts you tried so hard to bury. Thoughts that slither into your mind on nights like these. You pull the blanket up to your chin, shivering.

Thoughts of him—his voice, the way his lips curl into a smile—are crowded with others. Was he sitting in a meeting room somewhere, his phone set to silent. You can almost picture him, gesturing with his hands, laughing at something Emily had said.

She is stunning. Her soft brown eyes are the first thing you see in your mind. You trace the features of her face—her elegant nose leading down to those perfectly shaped Cupid’s bow lips.

Is he looking at her right now? Spending Valentine's Day working with his beautiful colleague? Is he sitting too close? Can she smell the cologne you carefully picked out for him to wear today? Your throat aches at the thought.

It’s wrong to think like this—you know that. You know him, sometimes better than he does. It’s selfish. It must be selfish. You think you should have more trust in him.

But then again, maybe you are right to feel upset. Maybe you’re not being oversensitive. Maybe he just didn’t think.

It’s physically impossible for him to forget your plans. That thought does nothing but twist the knots in your stomach tighter.

You sigh, rolling onto your side, looking over at the empty space next to you and pulling the blanket tighter. You push those thoughts away as you start to whisper to yourself.

"And neither the angels in Heaven above Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee."

[yumeka-sxf]

Relatively short new chapter today, but still a lot to unpack! While we didn't get a ton of Melinda lore yet, as the majority of the chapter was Loid saying things to try and win her over, I found it interesting to see insight into one of his "fake" therapy sessions.

As usual with all the conversations he has with people in his "Loid Forger" persona, if the topic gets heavy, he'll end up saying things that are, what I believe, what he truly feels. This is usually preceded by him dropping the forced smile and showing a glimpse of a more thoughtful expression, for example, in the below panel when Melinda comments on how strong and "lively" she thinks Loid and Yor are. He then goes on to tell her that there's no crime or shame in not being strong enough.

While it is debatable whether he's being genuine here or not, I can't help but be reminded of similar conversations he's had with Yor in the past...way back in chapter 14 where he told her how tiring it can be to put up a facade all the time. And then much later in chapter 86 where she tells him, in her own way, that he doesn't have to be strong and "perfect" all the time.

I'm probably reading too much into it, but it's just something that came to mind 😅 But on the topic of Melinda saying they're "lively," the word she uses in the Japanese version in 健全な ("kanzenna") which is more like "healthy, sound, stable, etc" (the first kanji is "healthy/strong," and the second is "whole/all.") So yeah, a slightly different nuance than "lively."

I also smiled when I saw that Loid still calls Yor "Yor-san" in his thoughts ❤️

It wouldn't be a SxF chapter with at least a subtle hint at something "darker" going on or has gone on...in this case, we hear a bit of Melinda's thoughts about the post-war time.

But the big shocker was obviously the final page where she claims that Donovan is an alien. I checked the Japanese version to make sure, and she does indeed use the term 宇宙人 ("uchuujin"), which is "alien" in the traditional sense.

Upcoming plot twist...this previous Endo art for short mission 10 will turn out to be canon 🤣

Joking aside, I don't think that Donovan is literally an alien, as mixing a truly sci-fi element like that into the world of SxF would be too jarring. So probably something that Donovan has done made Melinda come to that conclusion. As for what it is about him that that would make her think this is debatable - his involvement in science experiments/Project Apple? If he actually has the ability to read minds, is this the explanation she's come up? Or maybe he wants her to think this for some reason? There's also a theory that she doesn't actually believe he's an alien and is only saying it to test Loid in some way. Whatever the reason is, we'll have to wait until next time for more answers!

[strawberrynightmere]

Can I request a Yandere Andrew x pregnant medical student Julia!reader?, set after their breakup. She’s relieved she left him months ago after discovering the Graves siblings' crimes. Now, five months pregnant, she decides to keep it secret from him and move to another countryBut Andrew tracks her down… and pregnancy sex (yeah it happens unless it's risky).

Yeah, anon also sent that there would be no Ahley (can be mentioned) and itsuppose to be non-con/dub-con with reader liking it at the end (like mindbreak or something).

Found You [Yandere Andrew Graves x Pregnant Julia! Reader]

TW⚠️: dark content, yandere tendencies, pregnancy, kidnaping, Ashley is not here (she is mentioned), non-con/dub-con smut/nsft/+18, reader takes place of Julia, female reader, assumptions of cheating, threat of abortion (idk call it what ever you want), my writingn, I don't know what else to put here.

A/n: I had to change some things up. Again, I am open to criticism.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

"I-it's over! I'm done with you!" You slam the phone back on the wall and take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

It was supposed to be a normal phone call where you were gonna tell him about the pregnancy, but something just snapped at the moment. The thought of having to deal with Ashley even more scared you tremendously, and it wasn't helping that Andrew didn't want to listen, saying: "we'll talk it over once I'm out."

You bury your face in a pillow and let out a scream. A college student who's almost four months into her pregnancy, it sure is a story. Once you are done screaming into a pillow, you lay on your bed a stear at the ceiling.

You'll figure something out...

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

And you did.

Wow, and we're not gonna touch on that at all.

Right now, you're getting an ultrasound, and the doctor was showing you the screen. "This is the body, and here is the head." You nodded along as they explained more, like how the baby is developing, about your health, etc. etc.

Anyways, all went well. You made an appointment for next month, and now you're returning home. When you feel an intense stear at your back, you turn to see nobody was there.

It's kind of weird that the streets are empty at this time of day. Maybe you should hurry a bit.

You began to walk faster, picking up the pace whenever you thought you heard a footstep that wasn't yours. Eventually, you were about to try running, but whoever was following you had already predacted it and grabbed and dragged you in an empty alleyway, restraining you and covering your mouth and nose with some pice of fabric.

You were feeling dizzy after a bit of struggling.

Shit!

It's chloroform.

You struggle even harder, trying to get free, even going as far as screaming through the fabric.

"That's enough."

That voice, it belongs to Andrew. How is that possible? He's supposed to be dead.

You slip into unconsciousness, and the last thing you see is his green eyes.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

You hazely come to half consciousness. Your vision was foggy as you tried to rub the tiredness from them. But you can't move them.

You gain full consciousness in shock and notice that your hands are tied up to the headboard of a bed.

Oh fuck! Andrew!

"You're awake."

And there he was, standing above you holding a cleaver.

"A-Andrew-"

"I told you we'd talk when I get out." He said in a grim tone. Andrew sits himself under your numb legs. He lifts your shirt above your chest.

"But you moved on pretty quickly." He points the blade of the cleaver under your belly. "Who is it?"

In panic, you blurted it out.

"Yours! The baby is yours!"

He stares at you in shock.

"Heh..." He removed the cleaver and started laughing. He placed his head on your belly, listening to the baby's heartbeat, his hand gently caressing your side.

"And you still left." Andrew takes his sweet time while you feel slight dread of the words he spoke. "It doesn't matter. You won't be doing that anymore."

Andrew pushes your bra up, exposing your sensitive breasts.

"Wait, Andrew!"

"I'll be gentle." He said softly before gently bitting and licking your breasts, earning small whimpers from you.

His hand undid your pants and slid into your underwear. You feel his fingers press and circle your clit a bit before sliding into your entrance, thrusting in and out while his thumb was playing with your clit.

A moan finally escaped your lips as you came over his fingers.

Andrew then pulls your plants down, along with your underwear. He undid his pants, pulled out his throbing cock and lined himself up at your entrance. He slowly pushes in, and you gasped.

Once he was fully in, he waited a moment or two before slowly thrusting in and out.

You feel a knot in your stomach, getting tighter and tighter the more Andrew moved. You finally came, moaning his name.

Andrew pulls out and carefully gets off the bed.

You slowly slip back into unconsciousness as you feel his lips kiss your forehead.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

A/n: Honestly, that was a bit better than the last one. Sorry it took so long. Anyway, I'm gonna go look for dividers.

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 favorite crime: percy jackson

▰▰ pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

Know that I loved you so bad I let you treat me like that I was your willing accomplice, honey

author: and if I say best olivia song then what (I don't know if this makes sense or if it's rushed but oh well)

y/n has always gone unnoticed, apart from the few friends she has, she doesn’t draw any unnecessary attention to herself. She doesn't like it. Instead, she settles for living a quiet life.

That was, clearly, until Percy Jackson came into her life. Funny, charming, gentle but also chaotic, unpredictable, carefree Percy Jackson. He turned her life upside down the moment he walked into that classroom.

She should've listened. She should've listened to herself when she became aware he was trouble. She should've listened to her friends when they told her not to get too attached, because rumour had it, the new boy didn’t stay around for too long.

Instead, she lets herself be pulled into his chaos. Percy was like a storm: wild and impossible to contain, yet oddly comforting when he was near. He made her laugh on the days she wanted to cry. He made her believe she was someone worth noticing, someone worth staying for.

So who can blame her when he smiled at her and she couldn't help but smile back? His smile was different. It wasn’t like the polite smiles she was used to. His was warmer, as if he could see through her quiet shell and liked what he found.

"hey, can I sit here?" he asks, and she wants to look away so badly. Say no. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she nods as she makes space for him to sit beside her. "yes, sure."

Really, who can blame her if she starts spending time with him? skipping classes just to have more time to talk, using homework as an excuse to spend time with him after school, sharing her lunch time with him just to get to know him better.

One day, at lunch, y/n mentions offhandededly that she doesn’t know how to swim when Percy brings up the beach.

She expects that fact about herself to be brushed off, but instead Percy gasps, looking at her with that familiar spark of mischief in his eyes. "You don't know how to swim?"

She shrugs, a little self-conscious under his gaze. "Not really. I just- never had the chance to learn."

Percy doesn’t tease her like she thought he might. Instead, he smiles like he's already planning something. He is. The next day, they end up sneaking into the dimly lit school pool after skipping their third period.

She can feel her heart racing, not just from the fear of potentially getting caught breaking school rules, but also because of the way Percy looks at her with such encouragement in his eyes.

Still, it doesn’t feel like a bad idea until she's in the water, holding onto the edge of the pool while Percy floats effortlessly around her. If she wasn't so terrified, she would think that he's showing off. "It’s not that hard," he promises. "Just trust me."

And she does. Trusts him as he coaxes her into the water, holding her hands as she kicks and paddles awkwardly, laughing when she swallows a mouthful of water. Trusts him when he doesn’t let go, even when she insists she can do it herself. She can't.

By the end of the period, she hasn't learned anything at all, but she's still grinning as she clings to the edge of the pool. Percy's sitting on the edge, water dripping off him as he beams at her. "you see? that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"I hate you" she says, but she has a smile on her face that only gets wider when he chuckles.

It's in that moment, her chest full of laughter, that she begins to realize Percy isn’t just some random new boy in her class. He’s someone who makes her brave, someone who makes her want to take chances.

So the next week, who can blame her when she finds herself sneaking out through her window at night just to hang with him when she had never done something to betray her parents trust?

She shouldn’t go. She knows that. But her feet move before she can even question what she's doing, and minutes later, she's climbing into the passenger seat of his car- well, his step father's car. Percy is still learning how to drive.

“Are you insane?” she whispers, as if there was a risk of someone else hearing her but him. “If my parents find out, I’m dead.”

He grins, that crooked smile of his that makes her stomach flip. “Relax. We’ll be back before they even notice you’re gone. Trust me.”

And, of course, she does. Which is how they end up at the beach, with Percy leading her down to the shore, where the waves crash gently against the sand. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a silver glow over everything.

They sit side by side, the cool night air wrapping around them. Percy leans back on his elbows, looking at the sea in front of him.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he says softly, his voice almost lost in the sound of the waves.

She nods, but her eyes are not on the sea. They are set on him.

Who can blame her if she ended up loving him? loving his smiles, his rambling about the most random things, the way he bumped her shoulder everytime they walked together, the way his lips felt against hers the first time he kissed her under the pool stands.

She doesn’t know what they're supposed to be, but after that night on the beach, things seem perfect. Percy is always attentive and charming. But that doesn’t stop y/n from noticing that he's hiding something, sometimes she looks at him and he seems to be distracted, concerned, carrying a burden about something. He starts to dissapear frequently, skipping periods or leaving her hanging after making plans.

When she asks, he simply brushes it off. And foolishly, she trusts him. She lets him kiss her and make her forget about it everytime she asks. She doesn't question it when some random boy comes to find him, and Percy just tells her it's an old friend. She fully trusts him when he promises that he will be at her birthday party.

That's when it happens, just the week before her birthday, during a regular school day. The principal announces a gas leak through the intercom, asking everyone to calmly leave the building.

Nobody is calm, students are hurriedly evacuating the building. In the midst of the chaos though, y/n can only worry about Percy when she doesn’t see him in the crowd of people. She wants to wait for him, but she's pushed by other students until she's eventually outside and- is that him?

It can't be. Because as unpredictable and adventurous Percy is, he couldn't be running into the building. Except- it is him. She freezes, her heart stopping for a second and she stays there, just waiting for him to come out until a teacher takes her by the arm to pull her away from the building.

The school ends up cancelling classes because of the damage, apparently one entire wing ended up burning entirely. Percy dissapears after that, she knows he should be okay because nobody was found inside or around the school grounds when the firefighters came around. She still worries about him everyday.

And that's when she realizes, she doesn't really know him at all. She doesn't know his mother well enough to stop by his house and ask about him, she doesn't know any friends he has that could know about him, he doesn’t have a phone to call or text to make sure he's alright. Nothing. Nothing but the everyday concern of knowing he walked into that building and never came back.

Her birthday comes around, and she can't help but feel the tiniest bit of hope. He promised, he wouldn't break a promise. He even told her he had a big surprise for her.

But the day passes without hearing from him. She spends the night pretending everything’s fine, but her heart sinks with every passing minute. She checks her phone obsessively, hoping for a text or a call, even though she knows he doesn’t have a phone. When her friends tease her about him, she forces a smile, but the disappointment feel heavy in her chest.

She returns to school, a year older and still without news of Percy. It baffles her how no one else seems worried. He simply vanished, and nobody even asks about him while she's dying of worry. Because Percy wouldn't miss her birthday unless something serious had really happened, would he? If her friends didn’t ask about him, she would already be sure that she made him up in her mind.

Three days after her birthday, she's getting ready for bed. Not to sleep, she hasn't slept well in days. But she's about to lay in her bed, ready for a night full of wondering and questioning everything, when she hears a tapping sound coming from her window.

Her breath catches in her throat, and yet again she wonders if maybe she's dreaming. As she opens the window, she fully expects him to vanish, but he doesn’t. He's there. "Percy?"

He's crouched on the firescape by her window, a small smile on his face. "Hey, can I come in?"

She doesn't answer, just steps back to give him space as he slips through the window. Once he's standing in her room, she inspects him to see if he's hurt, but he's not. At least she can stop worrying about that. But if he's not hurt, then that means-

"You don't look like you have some serious injury that stopped you from coming to my birthday" she raises her eyebrows, stepping back when he walks closer to her, even though her heart is screaming for her to fall back into his arms.

He winces at her words and looks away for a moment. "i'm sorry for missing it, I just-" he suddenly falls silent, as if he doesn’t have any explanation for it. Her heart hurts. "y/n, I'm leaving."

She looks at him confused but also frustrated, she doesn’t know why he's being so cryptic. "Leaving? but you just got here."

In exchange he gives her a look full of pity, as if she's some innocent child. "No, you don't understand." she wanted to scream. Of course whe doesn’t! he was not explaining anything. "y/n i'm going home."

She suddenly felt like she needed to sit, so she backed away until she sat down on the edge of her bed. Percy followed, being careful enough to keep his distance as he sat beside her. "This is your home, Percy."

"No, it isn't." he shakes his head, and that's when she understands. He doesn't see this place as home.

She wants to ask what “home” even meant for someone like him—someone who’d never really explained why he avoided questions about his past, why he disappeared for days at a time with nothing but a vague excuse. But the words stuck in her throat.

"My world-" he starts after taking a deep breath. "isn't like yours. It's complicated, and dangerous." He looks at her with such sorrow that she feels like she's drowning in something she doesn’t even understands.

“What do you mean?” she presses.

“I wish I could tell you everything,” he admits. “Let’s just say… I’m not normal. I never was. And the people in my life—they need me."

I need you is what she wants to say, but then she realizes that she doesn't need to say it. He knows it. That's what he's trying to tell her, those people- whoever they were, needed him more than she did.

“When will you be back?” she asks instead, clinging to hope like a lifeline.

He doesn't answer right away. His silence more telling than any explanation could’ve been.

And that's when it hits her.

He isn't coming back.

After Percy admits he's leaving, Y/N sits silently, the weight of his words sinking in. The room feels impossibly small as her heart threatens to shatter. Percy hesitates for a moment before reaching into his pocket, pulling out something she can't quite make out at first.

"I, uh... I wanted to give you this" he says, holding out a thin chain with a single bead dangling from it. The bead is intricately painted, a mix of blues and greens that shimmer in the light. It looks hand-made, imperfect but somehow perfect all the same. "It was supposed to be for your birthday, but-"

She stares at it, confused. "What's this?"

He exhales softly, running a hand through his dark hair. "Where I come from, we wear necklaces like this. Each bead represents something important from the year, something we want to remember. I have one and... well, I thought you should have one too."

She takes it in her hands, looking at it closely before she looks back at him. "Why?"

"Because" he starts, his voice unsteady. "You're important to me. You're in my bead too, to remember you by." He pauses, the vulnerability in his sea-green eyes almost unbearable as he raises the chain around his neck, the beads hanging from it. "I just thought maybe you'd want one too."

Her throat tightens, and she looks at the bead in her hand. It's simple, but it feels like everything. She doesn't know what to say, so she doesn't say anything. Instead, she nods, her fingers closing around the bead as if it might disappear if she lets go.

So, who can blame her for letting him kiss her one last time before he leaves? Who can blame her if, once he slips away and gets lost in the dark of the night, she cries herself to sleep, mourning a love that never had a chance to be?

The days after Percy’s departure pass in a blur. She goes through the motions, smiling at her friends, laughing at their jokes, but inside, it felt like something essential has been taken from her. She replays every moment with him in her mind—his crooked smile, the way his eyes lit up when he was excited, the way he made her feel alive for the first time in her quiet, unnoticed life.

At first, she blames herself. For falling for him. For ignoring her friends warnings. For getting close to him. For loving him. She blames herself for all of it.

But as the time goes on, and the ache in her chest begins to fade away into resignation, She has been wrong about all of it, and she sees things differently.

Her crime wasn't loving Percy Jackson. It couldn't be. Maybe her real crime had been all those times she’d bent her life to fit his.

Sneaking out, skipping class, letting him brush off her questions. She had been so eager to be a part of his world that she’d let her own fall to the wayside. She stopped noticing the things she once loved, stopped paying attention to the people who had always been there for her, all because Percy had walked into her life like a whirlwind and convinced her she could be someone else, someone bold and daring.

And Percy, she has spend all that time thinking that his crime had been not loving her the way she had. It was more complicated than that. He had loved her, she was sure of it. But he had loved her selfishly. He had loved the version of her that made him feel normal, the version that laughed at his jokes and trusted him blindly. He had loved her because, for a little while, she made him forget about the chaos and danger of his real life.

She realizes that no one's to blame for it. She can't hate him for it, she can't hold a grudge or try to understand why he did what he did. She can't. Instead, when she thinks back on every moment she shared with him, she allows herself to enjoy the memories.

There had been pain, yes. But there had also been joy. And she decides that she doesn't want to let the hurt overshadow the beauty of what they had shared. Because for a little while, Percy Jackson had been hers, and she had been his. And that was enough.

As she gazes through her bedroom window, she can only hope that one day he would look back at those memories, and feel as fond about them as she felt. That he would remember her too—not as the girl he had left behind, but as the girl who had loved him, flaws and all.

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. PLAYLIST

༉‧₊˚. episode 07: off the table

preview: ". . . Now as he stands in your apartment, he realizes that no amount of protection was enough to keep you away from Hanma’s venomous grip. He was intoxicating and once he sinks his fangs into you, there is no way out. The rough love bites were an indication of that. . ."

content warning: smut! dirty talk, hair pulling, fingering, handjobs, pronebone!! (she's a filthy one), mention of abandonment issues.

word count: 5k

➜ ┊: @softshuji @mitsuwuyaa @kariatenoh @reiners-milkbiddies @citrusteaa@bejeweled-night-33

➜ MASTERLIST

➜ note: the google doc file for this fanfic has officially reached 100 pages woohoooo 🥳🩷 im actually very excited because this is where the story picks up and starts to get a little saucyyyy 😋🙌🏻btw, ex boyfriend reveal!! had to include the fan favorite, the fandom's boyfriend: mitsuya takashi himself🙂‍↕️and sorry to disappoint yall, chifuyu is just our friend, he doesn't wanna get in our pants. anywayyy can't wait for the next chapter hehe🥰

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

“Chifuyu,” you sound out of breath. Hair disheveled and such choice of clothing confirms to the man that you hadn’t intended for anyone to visit you this time of the night. You stare back at the man, hair now dyed jet black and sporting a very fancy suit, and it dawns on you how long you haven’t seen him. 

An entire decade.

Chifuyu didn’t intend for the two of you to separate this way, but clearly he had no choice but to keep you away from Toman’s nasty business (something Hanma failed to do). When he first heard that you were going to move away for your studies, he was sad and the two of you cried as you hugged at the train station with your boyfriend by your side. He remembers the man you used to date and feels his heart sink. 

“Can we talk?” 

What’s up with men from your past showing up at your door? Not that you mind Chifuyu’s presence, a part of you was still mad that he had lied for all these years about his whereabouts. He doesn’t have to tell you for you to figure it out, the way he fiddles with his thumbs and avoids your eyes as you lead him inside says it all.

“So?”

“What are you doing?” Chifuyu jumps straight to the point, and you’re a bit taken aback by how alarmed he sounds. “With Hanma what are you– this isn’t right, you know that?”

“Oh I’m sorry, did you come here to lecture me? It’s been 10 years, Chifuyu!” you cross your arms over your chest, heat rising to your face. “You lied about where you were and you lied about being with Toman–”

“For a good cause!” Chifuyu’s volume rises and you scoff. “You had to stay away from Toman’s business.”

“Why does everyone think it’s okay for them to decide how I get to live my life?” you question bitterly and Chifuyu’s lips are sealed shut. “I mean really–first Ran and Rindou, then Hanma comes back and he’s acting all mysterious and now you?”

“You can get hurt.”

“I don’t care.” You spit out venomously. “You have no idea how isolating it feels to watch everyone around you distance themselves from you thinking it will protect you. All it did was make me scared to try to make friends.”

Truth be told, it wasn’t just Chifuyu or your brothers or even Hanma that you were mad about. Not their absence, or their lies or their futile attempts to shelter you from a familiar life of crime and violence –you were bitter about where you had ended up, what you could’ve had with your previous lover that went so badly even you couldn’t recover from it. 

When you moved away for your studies, your relationship with your brothers had already been strained, broken even. They had betrayed your trust in irreconcilable ways, so you turned to the one person you loved so much. You loved and cherished him, you were ready to offer up your heart to him as he whispered promises of a happy family in the near future, with a big house and a pretty garden where you'd water the plants and harvest some vegetables. Then he’d come home and he would show you the latest piece of clothing he had designed for you. You’d wear it happily and show it off to him as he gave you a look mixed with adoration and lust. He promised that he would fill your tummy to the brim, that he would fuck a baby into you as many times as you wanted. It was a shared dream of yours.

Perhaps it was too good to be true. 

That man switched up on you overnight–because of a project that had been consuming him for a month straight, he wasn’t able to spend time with you anymore. Becoming a fashion designer was everything to Mitsuya Takashi. Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to let anything hold him back even if it was a partner. 

You had been in a long, six year relationship when Mitsuya started to put more distance between the two of you, prioritizing his projects over date nights and coming home very late at night after events and gatherings. And every time you tried to talk to him about it–about your relationship–you were met with nothing but a look of exhaustion and disdain. The warmth he once had for you was gone and was soon replaced by a cold, distant look. His touch no longer lingered against your skin during the early hours of the morning, sex had become a chore to the same man who would spend hours making love to you under the moonlight. 

That’s when you realized that perhaps, it was time to part ways. 

It wasn’t easy at all–you cried in his arms and he apologized for not being able to keep his promise of the perfect family the two of you were once eager to have. And before the two of you could part ways, you watched as the man reached for his neck to unclasp the jewelry wrapped around it. Stepping behind you, he wrapped the necklace around your neck and the two of you shared one last warm look, filled with the love you will always have for one another.

“Keep this. Maybe we’ll meet again one day.” 

One day turned into six years of not seeing the lavender haired man. Six years of praying and hoping for something, anything. To no avail. You hadn’t even heard of him on the news, nor were you able to find any of his works anywhere and it broke your heart at the thought of him moving out of the country completely. To think that he needed to change his entourage in order to see some growth–you hope that you weren’t the type of girlfriend to try to grab his wings and pin him to the ground. 

Chifuyu had been watching you this whole time. He had been watching your every move, ensuring your safety without having to approach you or so much as get out of his car. He knew of your breakup with Mitsuya, and all he could think of was the last conversation you had with him before moving away for your studies.

“I can’t wait to marry him,” there was a slight blush to your cheeks. Mitsuya had really been the boyfriend to you and Chifuyu could feel the love pouring out of you. “He’ll be such a good dad.” 

To say that you were broken after the relationship had ended was an understatement. You didn’t go to work for a week. 

But Chifuyu couldn’t approach you still–and all he could do was watch and pray that you take care of yourself and find a way to lift yourself back up.

So it’s safe to say that when Chifuyu heard that Hanma found you, he was enraged. Toman was used to Chifuyu’s calm and collected demeanor–a false facade he had learned to put up in order to get on Kisaki’s good side which helped him a lot. As he approached the man’s office, he could hear a second man’s voice and quickly recognized it to be Hanma’s.

“So what is this about?” Chifuyu doesn’t care that he is interrupting something as he knocks. He waits for Kisaki to tell him to come in and pushes the door open. Hanma’s back is facing him as he sits on the chair and Chifuyu stands near the door with his hands behind his back.

“Kokonoi said that the report concerning his IT business is taking too long due to a bug in the system.” The dark haired man speaks in a monotone voice, his body unmoving. He’s clearly not happy to be here, but he has to do it for his job.

Chifuyu can’t see what’s happening from his position, but he notices that Hanma places a picture on Kisaki’s desk before leaning back in his chair. 

“You found her?” 

Her. It could be so many people–this girl Kisaki had been stalking, or maybe one of the strippers that had escaped Hanma’s club due to the poor treatment by nasty and rude customers. Nothing could’ve prepared him for the bomb that was about to drop.

“She’s back in Shinjuku.”

“(Name). What was her last name again?” Kisaki brings your picture closer to his face, inspecting and analyzing every feature on your face, down to the way you got dressed. 

“Used to be Haitani. Changed it after her brothers got involved in some weird, shady business.” 

Chifuyu’s body tenses up when the two men mention your name. He’s managed to keep you away from this mess for years now, yet his plan was coming crashing down from a single interaction with Hanma Shuji. The dark haired man was terrified that Hanma was after you just for fun, that his attempts at protecting you would fail now that the tall, tattooed man was back in your life. 

“And? What do you wanna do now?” Kisaki puts the picture away and starts to rummage through papers in his drawers, he doesn’t lift his gaze as he continues. “Do you want the men to take her away or?”

No no no–Chifuyu can’t let that happen. He can’t and won’t let anyone hurt you. His fists clench on his sides, body tensing up. Then he notices. Hanma had gone eerily silent instead of doing his usual, insane laugh. 

Kisaki seems to realize the same thing. Sensing the tall man’s silence, Tetta raises his eyes and notices the deadly look on Hanma’s face. Had it not been Kisaki, a man who’s known him for years and was desensitized to his glares, he would’ve most likely fallen from his chair. His eyes were devoid of any playfulness, and Tetta doesn’t miss the way his jaw clenches. 

“No. I don’t want any of them near her.”

Chifuyu still wasn’t able to trust him. It had never been easy to do so, a man as dangerous as Hanma was as unpredictable as a wild card in the deck. Had his intentions been clear, Matsuno wouldn’t feel the need to watch your every move even closer since that day. 

Now as he stands in your apartment, he realizes that no amount of protection was enough to keep you away from Hanma’s venomous grip. He was intoxicating and once he sinks his fangs into you, there is no way out. The rough love bites were an indication of that. 

Flustered and perhaps feeling as though he was being creepy, he looks away from your neck and watches as you cover yourself more with your robe. You noticed. 

“It was to protect you.” Chifuyu’s voice is soft like butter. He doesn’t have it in him to argue with you, he doesn’t want to argue with you he just– 

He misses you so much and it was driving him crazy that he held himself back for all these years, and all it took for Hanma was to see you once at a metro station and he was back in your life. It just wasn’t fair. 

Losing Baji had taken a toll on Chifuyu’s mental and physical well being. You were worried about the boy and you voiced it out many times to Mitsuya when the two of you went out to get him a couple of snacks as well as some food for his cat. 

It was that worry that made the two of you as close as ever even if your friendship was very short lived before you packed your things and moved away. Luckily enough, Takemichi was in the picture and you had nothing to worry about this time. 

Still, it doesn’t change the fact that everything Chifuyu has done was to protect you. Even if it meant hurting himself in the process. 

“It’s dangerous, Toman.” He speaks lowly as he takes a seat on your couch. “It’s not like how it used to be.”

“I know.” you admit, voice as small as ever. Chifuyu doesn’t want to know how you found out, but he quickly realizes it has something to do with Hanma and sighs deeply. 

“Did you ever think it would get this bad?” you ask, taking a seat next to the man who can only sigh and run a hand through his hair. 

“I…would like to say no, but things have changed a lot. Mikey is different, people are different–money made them…disgusting.” You remember your first encounter with Hanma. The fancy clothes, expensive shoes and watches didn’t draw a smile on his face. He looked bored out of his mind, like he wanted something to happen in his life and the expression on his face when he realized that he had finally found you after so many years of not seeing you, felt like the first time that man had used his face muscles to smile. 

So yeah, Toman was different. 

The two of you sit in silence. It’s a comfortable one this time, like a silence between songs–you get to sit and process what you had just listened to and your brain is trying to make sense of everything all at once. But it doesn’t pain you, nor does it leave a heavy feeling behind. You sit there next to your friend from your teenage years and you don’t feel the need to pretend to be anything else. You can be yourself around Chifuyu, even after so many years.

“So,” Chifuyu is the first to break the silence, turning his head as he rests it on the couch. He stares at you with those eyes that mirror a winter sky. “Hanma Shuji, huh?”

Despite his disappointment and perhaps even anger, the man doesn’t miss an opportunity to tease you. You flush at the tone of his voice and look away, completely flustered.

“We don’t have to talk about anything.”

“Is he really that good?” he continues to tease you, narrowing his eyes at you when your jaw drops and you can’t hide that your face was in flames.

“Can we not! Yes, he’s good and we’re two adults having fun.”

“Yeah,” his eyes shift to the love bites on your skin and the state of your disheveled hair. “You’re having a lot of fun.

“Please shut up.” you sigh deeply as you sink on the couch. “He’s actually a pain in the ass.”

“I’m sure he’s a pain in your ass–”

“Seriously!” you cover your face. “...I don’t care. As long as I get some action, I guess.” 

“Now that I’m thinking about it, he’s been less annoying lately,” Chifuyu admits. “Don’t get me wrong, he gets on everyone’s nerves–.” typical Hanma. “--but he’s been different lately.”

“Different?”

You can’t deny that this has piqued your curiosity. What Hanma was to you wasn’t the same to everyone else–you’ve known the man as a teenager and meeting him again as an adult, you realize you may have missed the most formative years of his life—the years that shaped him through struggles and hardships, leaving him the monotone, robotic, and emotionless man he is today. 

Toman knew an entirely different version, so a small shift in his behavior is easily noticeable. 

Chifuyu recalls an incident that happened three nights ago that really solidified to him that there might be something going on with the tall man. Hanma had walked inside the Toman headquarters all wet and disheveled. Not the kind that would leave you wondering if the criminal had sex. It had been pouring outside for hours on no end, and Chifuyu narrows his eyes when he sees Shuji’s wet clothes–however, he doesn’t seem annoyed. He calmly walks towards the front desk where he asks the receptionist (and his personal assistant when he is having a good day) where his bag of spare clothes was. The assistant, clearly taken aback, leads him towards a giant closet and hands him his bag. 

“Thanks.” The tattooed man mutters to the assistant who stands there frozen and shocked. 

Did Hanma just… thank him? 

Even Chifuyu couldn’t believe his own eyes and ears. 

“Yeah. A good type of different.” The dark haired male’s hand reaches up to ruffle your hair, a habit he couldn’t get rid of (not that you minded) then pushes himself off the couch.

“Well…I’m glad it didn’t go that bad.” 

“It could’ve, had I not missed you so much.” You say in a small voice and Chifuyu’s heart breaks a little. 

“Sorry…” 

“Oh it’s fine, I’m used to people leaving.” You try to lighten up the mood, but Chifuyu can tell that this wasn’t a joke to you. The thought of people leaving you was terrifying, but you always managed to find a way to brush it off as nothing but an overreaction. 

“I won’t lea–”

“Don’t.” A hand rests on Chifuyu’s shoulder, and all he can do is stare at you. He feels the small tremble in your hand, and he can read your mind. He knows what you mean. 

You don’t want empty promises.

“Okay.” He whispers in return, resting his hand on top of yours. “I got it.” 

—

Just how busy can a criminal’s life be in a city like Tokyo? Well, it depends. If you were to ask Chifuyu, he would tell you that it was very busy–hopping from one meeting to another, helping manage businesses and attending opening nights and events. Kisaki would say the same, although with the help of his assistant, it feels less hectic and suffocating. And the same goes for every man in Toman. 

Everyone but a certain tall man. 

Hanma’s specialty was torture. His skill relies on methodically, agonizingly breaking a person’s mind and body until they were reduced to an empty shell. He took pride in the way he unraveled them, a twisted thrill evident in his blown-out pupils—enjoying the process far more than any normal person ever would. So missions were a fun part of Shuji’s job. 

Until they aren’t, and he has to request for Kisaki to push them back a day or two.

“What?” Kisaki’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean you can’t do it today?”

“Exactly what it means.” Hanma says in a breathy voice, and Kisaki sighs at the end of the line. 

“Do I even have to ask why?”

When the tall man laughs, Kisaki’s face twists with disgust. He recognizes that laugh, it was an indicator that Hanma had simply found something far more entertaining than his missions–which was rare to say the least. But he continues to laugh, before heaving out a long, content sigh. 

“Oh man,” a tattooed hand brushes the skin of your exposed back, a small meek noise escapes your swollen lips at the touch. “Not sure if I can answer that.” The same tattooed hand then fists your hair and he pulls harshly until your neck is craned at an uncomfortable angle. You try to shoot him a glare, but he pushes his cock deeper and you find yourself biting down on your bottom lip to suppress your noises. 

“Bye.” You hear Kisaki hanging up on the other line and look over your shoulder. 

“You’re insufferable!” Shuji is amused by the glare you send him, tugging at your hair so that your back is now pressed against his chest. 

“I get that often.” You hear the grin in his voice, lips pressed against your ear as he whispers hotly into it. After a beat of silence, Hanma’s hips slam against your ass and your jaw falls open. 

“F-Fuck!” you cry out. Shuji’s free hand then goes around your body to grope your boobs, slapping them as he continues to fuck into you hard. Desperately, you dig your nails into his forearm for support and gasp when the hand travels down to your clit. 

Your head now rests fully against his shoulder, body twitching and trembling as he continues to thrust into you while rubbing the sensitive bud. 

Hanma loved seeing you like this. Not your usual, bratty self who refused to even glance his way–turning you into putty on his cock was something he took pride in, and he couldn’t deny that the more the two of you fucked, the more addicted he became. 

A week into your agreement with him, and you had been bent over every surface of your apartment.

First was your couch. Hanma insisted that he wanted to replace the memory of him getting cockblocked by your cat with a nice one. You forgot that the man’s sheer strength was enough to send you reeling, and he wasn’t able to control himself as he snapped his hips against your ass cheeks until the couch had moved spots.

“S-Slow down–!” you tried to beg, powerless as he held your wrists behind your back and pushed your face into the cushion of the couch. Your pussy was squeezing him too tightly for him to think of anything but letting you milk him dry.

“Can’t do t-that doll.” hearing the small stutter in his voice has your stomach fluttering. His fingers dig into your skull as he pushes your face deeper into the couch, muffling any of your noises as he thrusts harder and deeper into you. 

Your kitchen counter was next.

The small, crowded space of your kitchen was Hanma’s least favorite spot in your apartment. You shoot him yet another one of your signature glares as he voices his displeasure, and watch as amusement paints his features.

“Small ass kitchen you got here.”

“Not your first time being here.” You try to focus on the food you’re stirring in the pot, and not Hanma’s body towering over yours from behind. 

“Anybody fucked ya here before?” His hands grip your waist, pinning you in place and the hand that’s not busy stirring the food grips his forearm. 

“Yes Hanma. I am not a virgin.” But given the redness of your face, you might as well be one.

“Oh really? Who was it?”

“You don’t have to know!” 

“I gotta know if he was good. Did he make you cum?” You gasp when his hand slides inside your pants, fingers grazing the tuft of pubic hair covered by your panties. 

“I-I’m cooking–”

“Did he use his fingers like this?” You feel pathetic as your hand drops the wooden spoon to grip the kitchen counter, body bending forward when the rough pads of his fingers find your clit and start to rub it in circles. He moves further down, collecting some of your arousal before smearing it all over your sensitive bud. 

“Stop talking.” You say through gritted teeth, but your hard exterior soon melts away when he pushes his middle and ring finger into your pussy. He doesn’t start slow, nor does he give you time to get used to the sheer size of him as he starts pistoning his fingers into you. Groaning at the feeling of your snug walls gripping his fingers, he buries his face in your neck and pushes you closer to him. You’re reeling at the pleasure, unable to muffle your noises and you would’ve melted to the ground had his arm not been wrapped so tightly around your middle. 

As payback, you give him a handjob on your couch. 

It’s not that often where you don’t stare at your sexual partners while pleasuring them, but eye contact with Hanma was intense. It felt too…nerve racking for the two of you. So you sit next to him, blanket draped over your laps as your spit covered hand grips his cock. You move it up and down, stroking in the same motion that has the man’s head thrown over the back of the couch and his jaw going slack. From the corner of your eye, you see his reddened cheeks and his furrowed eyebrows and squeeze your own thighs. You ignore the flutter in your stomach, thumbing at his tip and removing the blanket when he starts to buck up his hips, fucking into your hand. 

And since you don’t want to make a mess, you wrap your lips around his dick and let him cum down your throat. 

“Holy shit,” he says, out of breath. You still refuse to stare at him as you wipe your mouth and grab the remote control to press play again. 

Friends with benefits. That’s what the two of you are. 

So you don’t expect special treatment as he batters your cunt with his mean cock, nor do you wait for him to caress your body and whisper sweet nothings into your ear after slapping your boobs so painfully. You like that. You like how mean he is and it’s fucking with your head.

The louder you get, the easier it is for Hanma to fuck into you–arousal is dripping down your thighs, and the sound of skin slapping bounced off the walls of your bedroom. You can’t hide how horny you were, or just how good he was making you feel. All you can do in response to his hypnotizing thrusts is grip his skin and leave your own marks. A way to show that he was yours for the night, even if he were to leave after this and go fuck someone else. 

“I-I’m cumming,” you gasp, sounding desperate and clearly not in control of your own volume and voice. Your brain feels fuzzy from all the pleasure, Hanma lets go of your hair and pushes you down until you are on all fours. You’re bent over so perfectly for him that a quiet curse escapes his lips. “S-Shuji, I’m cumming–” not Hanma, not asshole. Shuji. 

You’re not sure what kind of noises you’re making, but it sounds so pathetic and whiny that it sends the tall man behind you over the edge. However, you make the mistake of looking over your shoulder and the sight that greets you makes your stomach flip. 

A sweaty, red faced Hanma is fucking you so eagerly, hypnotized by the recoil of your ass that he forgets to close his mouth. Fucked out is the best way to describe him. A man who is usually either so amused by others’ discomfort and pain, wearing such a pornographic expression makes you grip the bed sheets and moan loudly as you cum all over his cock. 

He lets you ride out your orgasm, gripping your ass cheek and kneading the skin before delivering a harsh smack to it as he picks up his pace until he is emptying himself inside your warm walls. Leaning over, he presses his lips against the skin of your shoulders before asking. 

“You...You aren’t fucking anyone else, right?” 

“You’re asking that now?” After fucking me and cumming inside me so much? 

Obviously you’re not fucking anyone else!

“Just answer.” He demands with a slap to your clit that has you squealing, trapped under the weight of his body.

“N-No!” 

“Good.” His chin rests comfortably on your shoulder, and he places both hands on either side of your bodies as he presses his body weight against yours. “Good fucking girl.”

Not sure what he would’ve done had you said yes. 

“What?” You’re in a haze, but you still manage to catch bits of what he says and Hanma chuckles to himself.

“Don’t worry.”

“No, you said someth–ah!” your jaw goes slack when he starts to fuck you into the mattress. This position allows him to trap you beneath him with so much ease, until you have no choice but to take his cock and blabber nonsense into the pillow.

“Focus baby girl,” his teeth nip at your earlobe as he sinks his cock again into your cunt “I’m not done with ya.” 

Guilt is a weak emotion. Fear, anger and even jealousy are much stronger and can affect someone greatly. If consumed by any of the aforementioned, you’ll find out that sleep doesn’t come to you easily. 

Insomnia has followed Hanma Shuji his entire life. There hasn’t been a day where he slept through the night without being woken up in cold sweat and a loud gasp, or without feeling the need to reach for the nearest weapon to him. But as he lays next to you at 3 O’clock in the morning, he starts to question what triggers his insomnia. He’s never felt guilty after a mission, anger only consumed him if someone betrayed him–that leaves out jealousy. 

His golden eyes land on your worn out, sleeping figure. He chuckles as he notices your furrowed eyebrows, and his hand starts to move towards your face before freezing. What is he doing? He pulls his hand away, eyes drifting towards your exposed chest before pulling up the covers. He sees the pendant of the necklace resting comfortably around your neck and suddenly feels the need to fix it. Before his hand can reach for the jewelry, your fingers grip it protectively and you pull the covers tightly around your body. 

Hah. What’s that about? 

“No,” his ears perk up when he hears your sleepy voice mumble into your pillow. “..not..go.”

Not go? 

You were obviously talking in your sleep. It wasn’t supposed to make sense. 

“Don’t..go.” Sleepiness is replaced with distress. “..kashi.” 

Hanma scoffs. Honestly, that’s all he can do in such a situation. After fucking you into a deep slumber, you still manage to mumble another man’s name in your sleep. Which was completely fucking fine of course, you weren’t his and he wasn’t yours. 

Friends with benefits. That’s what the two of you agreed on.

༉‧₊˚. interested in commissioning me? if not, leave a ko-fi!

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[lorimnnn]

femdom | random character x reader | smut; mdni

it's 3:30am right now but i just had the most beautiful idea

you're a junior police officer who just got promoted to the special crimes unit, and your newness has naturally got the team coddling you and avoiding involving you when possible. plus, it doesn't help that you're sweet in nature; cheerful, soft-spoken, dressing in a spring wardrobe despite the coldest seasons that never seem to end within the chilly confines of the office--- you don't exactly look the part of a ruthless, thick-skinned detective that wears their mortality like a second skin and at any moment's notice, would lunge into the heart of terrorist gunfire. if anything, you look like a body they'd ID at the scene. another statistic. nobody really understands how you got into this industry or why you're in it, let alone what miracle worked in your favour to get you this far. nobody questions it either, though. it's hard to when you're so good at keeping your head down and obeying the instructions they give you, which is very uncharacteristic of every rookie they've ever been assigned.

so there you are again, babysitting a criminal. a grown man. it's your fifth day with him doing nothing while your team runs around sprouting branches from the latest case; all of which are short, rotten and weak. you've never seen more dead-ends in your life. then again, there is something off about this case, and while nobody believes you, you're confident that they're missing something huge, and the complexity of the whole thing is a clue on its own.

you're also ninety-nine percent sure that the seemingly disposable lackey that they've caught purely for dummy intel is more important than they think, but who you were kidding?

you'd embarrass yourself more trying to explain it to them than having them figure it out anyway knowing you were right. they were all high and mighty government ghouls; it'd not only be a waste of breath, but a useless donation of dignity, too. and that was already hard to keep. not like you started with much.

"I'm bored."

you pause, raising your gaze from your laptop to the stranger in the corner of the cabin. for all five days that you'd been around him, he hadn't spoke. he'd smirked, scowled, glared like he was going to kill you, but hadn't spoke, and you'd reconciled with creating a mental guidebook on his physical cues to figure out what he needed in what moment. furrow of the brows and zoning out means 'i will cannabalise you and then myself if i don't eat in the next ten minutes'. bouncing of the leg means 'i need to pee right fucking now'. grinding of the jaw means 'i want to sleep but i also can't sleep but if i don't sleep i might miss something. i'll just rest my eyes...'

somehow, hearing him voice his needs was enough to disrupt your entire system. it was just two words, but you felt out of your depth; did he want something? surely, he wanted something. what did he figure out that finally prompted him to talk?

you gnaw at the inside of your cheek, debating whether or not to answer. that felt dangerous. you push yourself to your knees from where you're draped over the bed in the middle of the room, watching your show and shamelessly inhaling the head detective's lunch donut. she'll get over it. in her eyes, you could do no wrong if she expected nothing from you.

"i'm bored," your hostage calls out again. he stares at you impatiently and cocks his head. "i know you can talk. talk to me."

"are you hungry?"

"what?"

"thirsty?"

"huh? no."

"do you need to---"

'no, I don't need to take a fucking piss. i'm bored."

'okay,' you say, but do nothing about it. You just continue to stare at him as he stares at you, the awkward silence yawning wider between us as he waits and you make him wait longer. your show hums into the quiet, unpaused.

'can you pick a show that we can both watch, at least?" he says gruffly. "your shit pisses me off. everyone's a blockhead and the plot hasn't moved anywhere for a whole season."

'it's a slow burn," you mumble. 'it's supposed to be that way."

'slow burn?' he scoffs. 'there's not even a spark. you've been watching this shit since i wound up here and they haven't even found the sticks to make one. change it.'

you sniff. 'i like my show. and for your information, they just held hands. if you were paying attention, you'd know that. can you be quiet now, please? unless you have something useful to say." you stare at him. he's quiet. 'that's what i thought.'

he wrinkles his nose at me, but there's no real heat behind it. you guess the five days mellowed him out. what used to be a feral dog of a man spitting in the lead detectives face is now just some random guy trying to watch your low-budget romance show that has too many seasons. all the tattoos and muscles and scars mean nothing, now. he's into your girly show, and he knows it.

begrudgingly, you angle my laptop his way.

'stacy is just about to confess," you say softly. 'i know you're watching. i know you'd want to see it happen.'

'whatever,' he grinds out, but doesn't complain. he does squint, however. you faintly recall seeing something on his file about being short sighted and sigh, getting up and bringing the laptop with you. great. so he's blind and into girly shows-- is he even trying to be a problem? he's pretty bad at it. you're starting to feel like if you just asked nicely, he'd tell me whatever you want.

i pull a seat up next to him and set my laptop down on the table.

he stares at me.

you point at the screen. 'you're going to miss it if you stare at me."

he quirks a brow instead. 'you're a little weird, doll."

you frown. 'that's a strange way of saying thank you.'

'c'mere and i'll show you how grateful i am.'

you stare at him.

he stares at you.

'your record doesn't say you have any sexual assault or harassment charges against you,' you say, looking away. 'i'm disappointed.'

"'cause i don't."

"uh huh."

"i'm serious, doll. was just tryin' my luck."

'yup."

'you're real pretty."

'so i've heard."

"you've been taking good care of me, too.'

"i get paid to."

okay guys lowkey i opened my drafts and i do NOT remember what the idea was so i'm going to just freestyle it

'for such a sweet face, you can be pretty cold when you want to."

you sigh, slamming your laptop shut. the sharpness of the sound startles him--- this large, tough man relentlessly flirting with you--- and when he looks at you, this softness in your demeanor has completely dispersed. what's left is a cold, hard shell, a robotic expression and calculating eyes.

he tenses.

"what do you think is happening right now?'

"what?"

"what do you think this is?" you murmur, setting your laptop aside and shifting your chair to face him head-on. you swing one leg over the other and cock your head. "did you think we were friends?"

"on our way there, maybe."

a small smirk flickers at the corner of your lips, and you lean forward, planting your chin on your fist. "funny. you think you're funny."

"you're two-faced as fuck."

"and you're hiding something."

he lifts his chin. "oh. so you wanna talk business, doll?"

"depends. are you going to talk? or am I going to have to make you?'

he sneers. "try your best."

the laugh that spills from your mouth is sweet-sounding, gentle, like bells. it's innocent enough. but the looseness of your posture and the way you hold yourself makes it sound nothing short of deranged--- and now, that smallness of your character, that unassuming quietness, the steady sweetness... it all becomes increasingly clear that it was a veil for whatever unpredictable monster writhed inside.

"what do you think i'm going to do to you?" you touch your chest. "me? lil ol me? the lackey?"

"i'm not one to underestimate."

"are you one to overestimate, then?"

he grits his teeth. "nothing i won't be prepared for. if you're looking for answers, then you won't find them in me."

"won't I?" you purr. "See, i've been studying. I've been spending some time with you. I know that you know something important."

"what... what are you doing right now?"

"what are you talking about?"

he squints. "why are you talking to me like that?"

you lift one leg, planting your foot on the edge of his chair between his knees. his breath hitches, and his gaze darts from your toes to your face as though the double take might make him see you better. then you kick.

his chair swings backwards and hits the ground.

"motherfucker-"

"language," you tut, standing over him. he wriggles on the floor, yanking against his restraints. there's a new kind of panic possessing him, now. not the kind that comes from the fear of getting hurt, but the fear of his own reaction, the fear of his unknown. you stand with a leg on either side of his ribs, staring down at him as though you are watching listlessly through a screen. 'relax. i won't do anything you don't want me to do."

"fuck off."

you grin. "you talk so big for someone who's face is so red. you like this, don't you? I knew you would. i've been watching closely, you know. i figured that violence would do nothing for you. it's not really in your head that you're not a winner in this situation, is it? because you know that you could get yourself out at any minute. but you won't. you know why?"

his snarls at you, bucking off the chair like the momentum will swing him upright again. He tries to twist on to his side, and you frown, stomping on his shoulder. He hisses as the ground slams into his back.

"well," you continue. "it's because I know you're interested in me. and that's your weakness, isn't it? you know someone's coming for you, so you think, 'i might as well have fun'. But no. No no no."

the panic seems to flare as you lower yourself on to your knees, hovering over him in a straddle. of course, there is nothing objectively wrong about what you're doing. you could make the excuse that you're about to hit him, punch him, have your way with him to hopefully choke out an answer--- in which case he should be completely fine. but it's clear that you were right about one thing. you smirk.

'silly darling,' you coo. 'you think I wouldn't pick up on the fact that you want to be treated like a dog?"

his eyes widen. "what?"

"you've been getting hard getting hand fed and walked to go piss. did you think I wouldn't notice?"

his cheeks flare red, and he sputters. "you--- you---"

"y-y-you," you mock, dropping your weight on to his stomach and rolling your eyes. you seize his face with one hand and wiggle it, pouting at him. "me, what? me, me, me? is that what you've been thinking about? is that what you've been exciting yourself over?"

he pants, his chest heaving with each breath. the more he looks at you and the more he talks, the more red his face grows. nervous sweat collects at his temples, and his eyes flutter. lust wars with outrage in those dark, arrogant eyes, and you revel in it, bathe in it, thrive in it.

"am i wrong?"

his feeble attempt to turn away from the intensity of your stare only pushes his face into your palm, and you grin, taking the opportunity to reel your hand back and strike him. he gasps, bucking up and off the chair. you squeal, delighted, as you are lifted off the ground.

"i guess not. but you have words, don't you?" you croon. "come on. say them."

he grinds his teeth, glaring at you. a red handprint blooms over the side of his face, and as if seeing exactly what you're seeing--- this large, imposing criminal rendered into a pathetic mess beneath you, trembling and hot and sweaty with need--- he shudders.

"fuck. fine. you got me."

you cover your mouth, trying to smother a smug laugh. "I got you?"

"yes."

"good boy, answering me so honestly." you drag your hand down his chest, over your own thigh, behind you. he squeezes his eyes shut as fingers ghost over the probing outline of his cock. "you want me to take care of that?"

"obviously."

you pull your hand back. "oh?"

"fuck!" he barks. "yes! fuck! Please!"

you chew the inside of your cheek. you hadn't meant to find a thrill in all of this, but somewhere along the way, you had discovered that you may have enjoyed this more than you thought. you fight another delirious smile and press your palm against him, your heart lurching in your chest at the faint whine echoing in the back of his throat.

"tell you what," you whisper. "let's make a deal.'

"no."

"you'll like this deal."

"i'm not answering you for shit. you can't make me." he glares at you. "and i'll report you for pulling this shit."

"just hear me out," you say sweetly, nimbly undoing the buttons of his pants and pulling down the zip--- without breaking eye contact with him once. "you can listen, right? dogs can listen."

his cheeks flame again, and he clamps his jaw shut.

"good boy," you croon. "now, first of all, let's get one thing straight. it doesn't matter what you tell them. they'll never believe you. second, whatever you tell me, I won't be telling them, because I want this to be my case. I can't have them taking credit for my efforts, can I? No, that's right. And thirdly..."

you hook a finger under the waistband of his boxers, tugging it away from his cock. somewhere along the way he had grown pliant. he stopped struggling. he stopped trying to bite off your face. now, he looks like he'd do anything to wrap your pretty hand around his length and get to work, even if it means resorting to begging, whining and pleading to the point of no return.

"thirdly?" he pants, clenching his fists.

you smile. "thirdly, for every answer you give me, i'll make you cum."

he flinches. 'that's your reward? no fucking man can cum that---"

"oh, but you can," you say, leaning back against his thighs. "and you will. what do you say?"

the look that scrunches his face together is deliciously conflicted, and even more so needy. but no matter how conflicted he might be, his decision was already made--- and his answer arranged all nice and pretty for the taking.

"Good boy."

---

when the detectives come back, you're feeding the hostage soup. the bowl sits on the table, steaming, and you're negotiating a next mouthful as he lays there, seemingly resistant.

what they don't notice is his flushed cheeks, the undone button of his pants or the way he breathes--- hot and heavy, as though he is running a fever. what they do notice, however, is that you're glowing, a bit more cheerful than usual and a bit brighter than they're used to. You turn to them with a smile.

"Oh. Welcome back. Any luck?"

"Barely," the lead detective sighs, shedding her jacket. "Another dead end. Thankfully we've got a tip to look into, but that's tomorrow's problem. Did he talk?"

"No," you say, seemingly dejected. "I tried, but it was the same. Not a word."

"Silence?" The lead detective muses, quirking a brow. "That's a new one. That's suspicious."

"That's what I'm saying."

"You want someone to stay back with you for the next few days?"

"Oh, no." You grin, looking back at him. "We'll be fine."

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

Your back! Hi! :D Ok, the guys adore and are protective of their female human best friend (fem reader). She shares a strong bond with them, and they with her. So, if she ever gets injured or sick, the guys are protective for a while. She is ready to help them again (as much as she can with being a human and all) but what she doesn't realize is that this time it's close to their spring season, making them very protective, territorial, and aggressive to outsiders. How would this play out as they are close to their primal time of the year, and she wants to go with them as they're about to leave on patrol, but they won't let her? Fluffy ending. 🥺(maybe some turtle noises and behaviors too)

Protective TMNT headcanons—reader wants to come on patrol

Bayverse, 2003, or 2012 if it suits ya. 🤷‍♀️. SFW! Mentions of "spring season" for the boys but nothing s*xual. hope u like it @pokemew119 !

Leonardo:

• Like Leonardo, we'll be straight to the point with this one—he's not going to want you going out with them. Normally, he doesn't want you to. Now he really doesn't want you to

• Due to their biology, springtime can be pretty dreadful for the bunch (for Splinter, too, he's the one having to manage them). Aggression, sensitivity, protectiveness, fussing over their rooms, etc. So you asking Leo to go out on their nightly patrol with them was a "this really isn't a good time" moment for him

• "The Lair is warm and safe, why would you want to come out here, anyways? Leave the fighting to me. That's what I'm here for, that's my job."

• Can be a little bit of an ass about it ngl, because he just wants to know you're home with someone he actually trusts to protect you, their father

• You heard Leo bark your name as you started up the ladder out of the sewers. Blue eyes giving you a suspicious look. You were trying to sneak topside so you'd be out there before he was able to protest. "No, no, go ask Master Splinter to show you some stuff if you want something to do so badly."

• Pats you along back to the Lair, watching to make sure you actually go back inside

• If you DO end up out there with them, he's going to be stressing a little more than usual about the setup because it throws him off having someone he feels he needs to constantly look out for, unlike his brothers who are more or less self-sufficient. But you bet you're always going to be his first priority, no hesitation

Michelangelo:

• For once, the heightened senses of springtime had Mikey thinking slightly more rationally than usual

• "Babycakes, you sure you want to come? It's ugly out there, smells bad, full of dudes always asking for a beat-down, maybe you should stay." Ruffles your hair for reassurance. "We can play games when I get back!"

• Secretly tries to dissuade you from even wanting to go out with them in the first place with promises of fun back at home

• If you do go anyways, he's taking every chance to show off his nunchaku skills

• Gets annoyed at his siblings for taking your attention away from him (oop there's the possessiveness)

• Very touchy, constantly hanging off of you or trying to play-fight, sit close to you on the sofa, scoot his chair towards you at dinner, etc.

• You ask if you can go with them on their way out and you catch Mikey

• He smiles big and sheepishly shakes his head, "Sorry, y/n, not tonight! You're kickin' back in my beanbag tonight and hanging out, not running around New York." End of conversation. You try to say something, he interrupts you, thumping your shoulder. "I'll text you! See ya, angel!"

• More passive about his protectiveness and isn't so outright about it like Leo, but on the inside, still doesn't fully understand why he feels that way (even though Donnie has explained over and over again)

Donatello:

• "You want to come out with us? Not gonna work, y/n, this is real stuff," he said amicably, raising his brow ridges. "There's been a three-point-four percent increase in crime rate just around the next four blocks, and that's with us kicking tail every other night. Statistically, you're liable to become a target and..."

• Donnie gets real irritable in spring and tends to avoid his brothers, argues with Leo about about their rooming situation bc he wants to be alone (except for with you)

• Sets up an entire cozy corner in his lab for you to chill in while he's gone and hopes you'll use it, even though he'd definitely rather be home and not topside at this time

• When you ask him to tag along on their patrol, he starts spouting off all the reasons you shouldn't and ultimately wins that debate

• Compromises by letting you man his tracking/observation station and communicating with them on their missions from the sewers

• He actually loves knowing you're on tap while he's out in the city and he can just radio in whenever he feels like it

• "See, isn't being our control center way better?"

Raphael:

• Raph already has a huge attitude problem, make that tenfold in spring.

• Gets waaaaay too overprotective at times, verges on bothersome levels of spazzing over what you do and where you go

• "You wanna go on patrol? With us? Just, out in New York City? With the Foot? Ahah, ain't happening, y/n. 'You said 'maybe' last time?' Well, I'm sayin' no, this time. You'll be bored?" He shrugs. "Watch TV or something. But you're not comin'."

• If you do somehow manage to go (highly unlikely), he's going to be grumpy and complain the whole time because he's secretly just worried and his hormones are out of whack

• Gets overly aggressive defending you from anything and probably stirs up more conflict over it tbh

• "It ended up fine that time, but don't do that again, ya hear?" He doesn't want to seem like he cares too much, so he flicks your head. (That man is head over heels for you)

[em-harlsnow]

part 2 of Debbie having TikTok

Debbie spends the next few days editing the video so that their responses in the interview overlap. She wants to have their first questions, the ones with the questions about themselves, to be at the start of the video and for the questions when their talking about the other one to be at the end.

She also spends a long time adding subtitles, bleeping out Mickey's swearing and cutting out the parts where Mickey admits to crimes and Ian asks too many questions. She might do a blooper video later if it gets enough views.

Before she posts it, she brings Mickey and Ian back into the house and shows it to them. She wants both of them to be happy with it before it's out there for her millions of followers to see.

Just in case the reaction is as good as the interview was, Debbie sets up a small digital camera on one end of the table. Both Ian and Mickey frown at it.

"Thought we were done with this shit." Mickey grumbles, making Ian sit in the chair closer to the camera so that he's less visible.

"This is just to film your reaction. If it's good, I might make a video out of that too." Debbie explains.

"Okay." Ian agrees, leaning back on the chair to stretch. He has a beer loosely gripped in his hand.

"Sit up, asshole." Mickey mutters. "Cover me from the camera."

"Mmh, sure." Ian mumbles, moving further forwards in his chair. He has one arm around the back of Mickey's chair, and Debbie definitely thinks this would make a good video. Ian's been in the fewest of her videos (Carl's been in the most) so he's a bit of an enigma to her audience and literally everyone thinks he's hot. She's had hundreds of message requests asking for his number or a date, as if Ian would be interested in a random internet fan. Most of them are from women, too.

"Okay, now you'll get to see the results from the video. This is their first time seeing what each other said, by the way." Debbie tells the camera. "Who do you think knows who best?" Debbie asks Ian and Mickey.

Ian shrugs. "We've known each other since we were kids. I think it just depends on who has the better memory."

"I have a better memory." Mickey says. "You can't even remember to put your ring back on after you wash your hands."

"How many times!" Ian sighs, smacking his hands on the table. "How many times do we have to talk about this? I don't mean to! I'm still not used to it yet."

"I don't forget! We've been married for like eight fucking months."

"My hands aren't used to it! I only forget for like three seconds because you notice and get mad at me so fast."

"Excuse me if I think it's fucking rude for you to basically throw our wedding ring down the sink." Mickey frowns, crossing his arms and glaring.

"Throw it down the-! What the fuck? I leave it on the side, where it's safe, it's never even been close to falling down the drain." Ian shouts.

"We live with a five year old, Ian. We live with your fucking brother, who would easily knock it."

"Which brother?"

"Carl, obviously. He's messy as shit."

"You're messy as shit."

"I keep my ring on."

"I keep mine on!"

"Doesn't seem like it."

Debbie sighs, only letting them continue because she knows it's good content. "Okay, shut up now." She says. They're starting to forget she's even here and filming.

Mickey's rolling his eyes and pouting about it, but it doesn't seem to genuinely cause any problems between the two. Ian's arm stays secured on Mickey's chair, occasionally touching his fingers to Mickey's shoulder.

"Alright, here's the video." She says, holding up the phone to them. Whenever they have some commentary, she's planning on pausing it to make the reaction more entertaining.

It begins with a shot of Ian explaining his own likes and dislikes and all of his answers.

"Ha! I got all of those." Mickey says, grinning. "Wait, you really think our first date was at fucking Chick-fil-A? I was so fucking tired that night I could barely keep my eyes open."

"You'd just gotten out of prison, you were bound to be tired." Ian answers. "Why? Where did you think it was?"

"I said-"

"Ah-ah!" Debbie cuts him off. "Wait until it says in the video."

"Is your favourite movie really Double Impact? That's a fucking crap movie." Mickey adds.

"You know why I said that." Ian replies.

"Stupid reason. I thought Van Damme was shitty then and I think he's shitty now."

"And I still think you're fucking wrong."

Mickey grumbles, and Debbie plays the video again. Mickey's answers start coming through, and Ian watches intently.

"I got these right too." He says. "I'm pretty sure I said all that."

"Really? Even the one about my comfort food or whatever?" Mickey asks.

"Yeah, for that one I said-"

"Wait for it to be in the video! Jesus, it's like one minute long. You can wait." Debbie snaps, shaking her head at them.

She plays it again. During the editing process, she thought it would be better to leave all the questions she asked about when they fell in love until the very end. Some sort of romantic idea to that.

"You think our first date was drinking beer at the dugouts?" Ian marvels.

"Yeah, better than goddamn Chick-fil-A."

"But we didn't even eat anything."

"Why are you so stuck on this whole eating dinner together with actual food? That doesn't mean it's a date, I'm pretty sure a date can be anything." Mickey argues.

"I mean... it has to have some kind of activity. Like... bowling is a date. Going clubbing, eating dinner. Those are all dates. Sitting in a field, drinking, smoking and fucking is not a date."

"That's not true. Dates don't have rules like that."

"If they were dates, then why did they revolve around fucking?"

"That just makes us better than everyone else. Everyone does those dates that lead up to sex, we did dates and sex." Mickey points out.

Ian sighs. "Well, we didn't even kiss. I'm pretty sure dates have to involve kissing, at least."

Mickey narrows his eyes. "Fuck you, fine. Then our first date was at my place, when you stayed over. We ate food, watched a movie - there's your activity - and we fucked and did your kissing bullshit." He grumbles in annoyance.

Watching, Debbie sees Ian's face soften, a small smile forming on his features.

"Yeah, okay." Ian says gently, dropping his arm from the back of Mickey's chair to rest completely on his shoulders. "That was our first date."

Feeling like a third wheel, Debbie swallows and casts her eyes away. She plays the video.

It's both of them saying their favourite things about each other, and Ian's comments about Mickey's legs and ass makes Mickey smirk.

"Can't believe you said my hair and not my cock." Ian says, indifferent to the insults Mickey threw about him being ugly. Ian knows that Mickey doesn't think he's ugly.

"Didn't think it was that kind of video." Mickey laughs.

It plays some more, and then Ian's answers to questions about Mickey start. Ian seems proud of himself when he's right about so many of them. Mickey's equally pleased when he's also right.

"You think I'm kind." Ian smiles, nudging Mickey's shoulder.

"Yeah, and you think I'm fucking sweet. You dick, no I'm not." Mickey scoffs. "I am fucking funny, though."

Debbie rolls her eyes and lets the video continue.

"So who won?" Ian asks when he thinks he's made it to the end of the video.

"What?" Debbie asks.

"Who knows who best." Mickey answers. "Who wins?"

"Well, it wasn't a competition." Debbie says, brows furrowing.

"What was the point of this shit then?" Mickey says.

"For fun! And because I'm paying you. Besides, it would be a draw. You both know each other so well it's scary." Debbie mutters.

Ian and Mickey both grin at that.

"We definitely won." Ian says.

"Obviously." Mickey agrees.

"There's more of the video. Just the last bit." Debbie tells them, pressing play.

It's Ian describing when he fell in love with Mickey. About how it happened so fast. About how he was right about who he loved. Debbie expected Mickey to have something to say about it. Hopefully, something sweet. But instead he's quiet. Staring at the screen with wide eyes.

It's funny, really, because they both thought the other fell in love when they first started living together at the Milkovich house. After Mickey came out. But neither of them fell in love then. Ian said it was in the first few months of them having sex, and Mickey said it was in the first couple years, but only since he didn't want to think about it.

"You loved me that long?" Ian asks, when Mickey's answer comes through. His voice is filled with wonderment.

Mickey flushes, shrugs, winces like he hates the question. "Yeah. It was obvious."

"It so wasn't." Ian laughs, outraged.

"Yes it was! I spent like all my fucking time with you." Mickey grumbles.

"Yeah! Insulting me!"

"Fuck off, you found me funny. You just said that." Mickey says, pointing to the video.

"Well, I didn't know you loved me then."

"As if you were so fucking clear about it." Mickey scoffs.

"I was!"

"How?"

"I- I asked Mandy about you, I talked about you all the time, I brought you Lip's weed."

"I sold Lip that weed. Anyway, you did all that shit behind my back. How was I supposed to know you were talking to Mandy about me?" Mickey asks, incredulous.

"I mean- I don't know. Maybe she would've mentioned it to you." Ian mutters.

"Oh, really? Why would she do that? Because I was so openly fucking gay and because she knew we were together?" Mickey asks, sarcasm in his voice.

"Oh, shut up."

"I'm just saying. You didn't make it as obvious as you think you did."

Ian harrumphs, sinking into his chair. He's still smiling to himself though, clearly pleased that Mickey's felt the same way about him for the same amount of time.

"I make it obvious now."

"Yeah? By leaving your ring at the sink?" Mickey challenges.

"No, because I tell you that I love you all the time. Huh? I love you." Ian says, poking Mickey in the shoulder to piss him off.

"Fuck off." Mickey scoffs, chuckling to himself. "I love you too, even though you're an idiot."

"Mhm. See, we're better than everyone else." Ian confirms, satisfied with himself.

"For sure."

"Okay, well." Debbie starts, ending the camera's recording. "Are you good with that being posted?" She asks.

"Yeah, sure." Ian agrees.

"Whatever, as long as we get paid."

"Yes, fuck, I'm paying you." Debbie groans, posting it as soon as she has the confirmation.

-> part one is here !!

-> I hope everyone enjoyed, I'm going to post the comments on the TikTok video next!

[delicatestones]

Various Parahuman Teen Couples Go To The Mall

Brian and Taylor: Going to the mall is a normal thing neither of them enjoy, which is precisely why they convince themselves that they should do it. Brian musters up hope that he will be able to carry Taylor's bags and wait for her on benches outside of clothes stores, which will affirm his value as a man. Taylor, who only wants to buy a single hoodie, anxiously refuses to let Brian carry her bag because she doesn't want to be a burden, which banishes Brian to the Masculine Insecurity Pocket Dimension in his own mind. They attempt to rally by going to the food court, where they try to have an awkward 'normal' conversation over greasy pizza slices.

Fortunately, a supervillain they have history with attacks the mall mid-pizza, and they rush off to change in the mall bathrooms and return to thoroughly beat the interloper's ass. Brian apologizes for the mall date going wrong (secretly relieved, also deeply compelled by watching Taylor break a guy's arm with a baton) while Taylor says it's no big deal (even more relieved, mesmerized by Brian's visible sweat on the back of his neck). They may or may not awkwardly touch hands at the fire exit before they flee the scene of the crime.

Krouse and Noelle (Pre-Simurgh): On a quest for limited edition Ransack merch at the Gamestop, which turns out to be all sold out or on reserve. Krouse tries to social engineer it out of the clerk anyway, but Noelle gets so visibly uncomfortable he desists. In the depths of excruciating failure he says something shitty about the guy's haircut after they leave the store and Noelle tells him he's being a dick, which he apologizes excessively for in a way that just makes it more awkward.

In a now desperate effort to turn things around, Krouse tries to lighten the mood by latching onto listing Alternative Mall Activities including one of those photo booth set ups. He makes fun of how cliche they are and how it would be completely lame if they went into one, which transitions into cajoling Noelle to join him in this extremely cringe activity for the bit. She says her hair looks dumb and she doesn't want to, so he gallantly offers her his over-sized hoodie so she can hide her face the entire time, a gesture he does not realize extends the shelf life of their relationship for a solid two weeks. His visible joy when she agrees to the idea adds another week to the tail end of that. They hold hands on the way to the parking lot.

His copy of their photos becomes an instantly precious memento he sticks on the wall above his bed; Noelle puts hers in her picture shoebox in her closet. He spends all night on E-bay overbidding for the merch.

Krouse and Noelle (Post-Simurgh): Twelve Injured One Dead In 'Food Court Nightmare'.

Dean and Victoria: It takes Victoria half an hour to get ready for a mall trip. Dean shows up too early to pick her up and engages Carol Dallon in small talk for twenty minutes, a time span in which Carol manages to list every single one of Victoria's deepest insecurities in the form of barely veiled criticism while Dean smiles like he's being held at gunpoint.

At the mall they get stopped outside the Gap by a gaggle of Glory Girl preteen fans. Dean holds Victoria's bags (many) while she goes through the New Wave Fan Experience Checklist. Victoria says something afterwards to him on the way to the next store that hints at the Dallon Torment Nexus. Dean continues smiling and offers the mildest possible effort at sympathy, which Victoria reacts to with virulent irritation, so he gives up and buys her a mall outlet jewelry store diamond tennis bracelet instead. Thus mollified, she proceeds to allow him to obtain Jamba Juice for the both of them. It's another normal (bad) day in Brockton Bay.

Aisha and Alec: There strictly to cause problems for the sake of causing problems. Alec 'distracts' the staff at Hot Topic by faking a fall into a rack of studded belts and loudly insisting he will sue them for emotional and psychic damages while Aisha shoplifts bracelets. They buy hot pretzels and perch on the edge of the mall fountain marked 'NO LOITERING' to conspicuously loiter while occasionally kicking each other in the ankle. When a security guard tries to get them to move they collaborate on roasting his bloodline back to medieval times, triggering rent-a-cop wrath and a threat to call the Real Cops.

Now officially Wronged By The System, they decamp to breaking into the mall's back corridors (going through an unlocked access door) to vandalize the security office while throwing gummy worms at each other's mouths and missing 70% of the time. In high spirits, they make their cunning exit (leaving through the same door) and sneak into a horror movie at the mall theater halfway through its run time. They heckle the on-screen slasher victims for being idiots until an usher shows up with the original security guard, and then book it for the outside world while laughing like small and charming hyenas.

They agree they should totally rob the mall for real later, preferably while Brian and Taylor are on their make-up mall date, because they are good and kind teammates who only want the best for them.

(This post inspired by the learned discourses of Wormblr character understanders, particularly users lakesbian and simurghed. Any mischaracterizations and errors are my own. These hypotheticals are a non-representative sample of Ways They Could Be At The Mall.)