#it's been a pleasure gary!

[s0dium]

𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑!!!

𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d find out that your crush, Geto Suguru, was just like you: a murderer. Not only that but you share the same passion; killing criminals and pedophiles! (Happy Kinktober) 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: DARK CONTENT, gore, mutilation, murder, mentions of pedophiles (y/n kills them), serial killing, unprotected sex, breeding, choking, teasing, knife play, whipped Suguru 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.3k 𝐀/𝐧: This is based HEAVILY on the novel Butcher and Blackbird by Brynne Weaver. The original idea is credited to Brynne Weaver ONLY. This work is fan fiction and is not intended for commercial purposes or to infringe on the intellectual property rights of the original author.

Being a serial killer who kills other killers, pedophiles, and rapists is a great hobby.

Until you find yourself locked in a cage.

For three days.

No AC.

With a body you carved up.

You glare at the fly-riddled corpse whose legs are kneeling opposite of you in the locked cage you were both trapped in. The air is thick with the putrid stench of decay, a relentless assault on your senses. The body's skin is pallid, marred by the writhing mass of white maggots that feast mercilessly. Where eyes once held gaze, now only hollow sockets remain, tediously scooped out and vacant. The ears too have been sheared off, leaving clean edges that blend into the mottled, blood-stained flesh. Its chest has been cracked open; ribs pried apart in a macabre mimicry of an unhinged broken cocoon, revealing the dark, empty cavity where a heart once beat.

Then, of course, the piste de resistance of your work, the removed eyes, ears, and heart rest in the corpse's upturned palms—placed with ceremonial care amidst the chaos of mutilation.

So now, if anyone were to walk down the steps of Gary Green House's basement, they would not only find his mutilated body, but the person who did it, trapped in a cage together.

"Fuck." You curse at yourself for the millionth time since you've been trapped here for the last three days. The cold realization that you've fallen into Gary’s final trap gnaws at your mind as relentlessly as the maggots at the corpse across from you. The cage, a cruel relic of Gary’s twisted pleasures, had seemed the perfect place for your ritual—turning the hunter into the hunted in his own den of horrors. But in your fervor to see him pay, you overlooked one crucial detail: the cage's sinister design, which sealed shut the moment its door swung closed.

The remote control, now a mocking symbol of freedom, lies just beyond the bars, on a small, grimy table. You remember the sickening click of the lock, the finality of it echoing in the cramped space as you turned back from the grisly task of dismembering Gary—his last, silent victory.

Even the idiot police could deduce that this was all your doing, seeing as all your bloody tools were still with you in your backpack. With fingerprints. It was just a matter of time before they opened the basement door.

You could practically hear Gary’s voice from beyond the grave: "Hah! Serves you right, you stupid bitch! That's what you get for killing me!" The taunt echoes in your head like a song over and over again and you're seriously contemplating banging your head against the iron bars.

"FUCK FINE!" You yell into the darkness. "I renounce my wicked ways!"

"That's a shame. I bet I would like your wicked ways."

You jump at the sound of a man's deep, smooth voice, the cadence of slight raspiness warming every note. Your curses cut the humid air from the startlement of the man's presence. How the hell did he even get in here? You didn't hear the basement door open. You scurry out of reach of the man who saunters into the thin thread of light from the narrow window, the glass opaque with fly shit.

"You seem to be in a predicament." He says stepping into view. The thin light from the window partially illuminates him, allowing you to make out his face. Oh rather, what is on his face.

Holy shit.

A ghost mask stares back at you, its hollow eyes and elongated mouth frozen in a chilling scream. The stark white of the mask contrasts sharply with the surrounding shadows, and you watch with wide eyes as he tilts his head.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

In any other situation, you might be fan-girling. You know exactly who you're staring at: the infamous Crucifer, a killer, like you, but notorious for his crucifixion of criminals in rather, flamboyant displays. The few eyewitness accounts of the Crucifer all mention the ghost mask, leaving no doubt in your mind about his identity.

While your hunting grounds have been Osaka, his have typically been Tokyo, but despite the geographical difference, his reputation precedes him. In all honesty, you shouldn’t be surprised he’s here. Your victim, Gary Greenwich, is notorious even among the authorities. Despite his crimes, the lack of solid evidence has always allowed him to slip through the cracks of the justice system, leaving him free to continue his heinous activities. He was high on your kill list, and it’s no surprise he was high on Crucifers as well.

He takes a few steps closer toward the cage to stare down at the corpse, bending to take a closer look.

"Well what happened here?" He chuckles.

You are on day three of no food. No water. The gnawing hunger in your stomach feels like a relentless beast, clawing at your insides with increasing ferocity. You wonder if your body has started to eat its own organs at this point.

You can't deal with this shit.

"Self defense." You say.

The man chuckles. "I doubt that, you're not his type." Despite his mask you can feel his eyes shift from the corpse to linger on you.

"And how would you know that?"

"Well disregarding the state in which you "self defense" left him, you're not a 6 year old boy. And," he steps closer so now he is inches away from the bars and his whole body is illuminated. "I make it my business to know."

You don't answer. Instead you watch as he crouches down to meet your gaze. You try to hide behind your tangled hair and folded limbs, giving him only your eyes.

And of course, just your luck, he is stunning

Black hair flows behind his mask and down his shoulder. He's wearing a black compression shirt that hugs every muscle of his biceps and forearms, accentuating his athletic build. His broad shoulders enhance his imposing presence, giving him the aura of a seasoned athlete. Black cargo pants complete his ensemble, practical and intimidating, with a hunting knife sticking out of his pocket, probably what he would've used on Gary if you hadn't got to him first.

Something about him looks familiar, something you can't put your finger on.

"I guess you made it your business to know too." He pauses before moving even closer so his mask is practically pressed against the iron bars. "Hey, you look pretty familiar."

You shift uncomfortably, feeling the prickle of anxiety creeping up your spine. Instinctively, you brush a tangled lock of hair from your face, wincing as it catches on your dry lips. The man's shoulders tense as if he has been electrocuted.

"Y/n?" His voice cuts through the thick silence like a knife.

Oh, what the hell.

You jerk your head up from your hunched posture, eyes wide in shock, meeting the unsettling, hollow eyes of the ghost mask. Your heart races, pounding loudly in your chest.

"Wha-"

"Oh my god, it is you!" He exclaims, his loud deep voice echoing through the basement.

"I'm sorry, I don't-" you stammer, confusion and fear knotting in your stomach.

"It's me," he interrupts, and with a swift motion, he takes off his mask. The sight of his familiar face makes your breath catch in your throat. "Suguru Geto."

Suguru Geto. The name alone sent ripples through your thoughts, dragging along memories and emotions you had long buried. Suguru wasn’t just any ordinary guy; he was a micro-celebrity in Tokyo, renowned for his breathtaking tattoo artistry. His ink adorned the bodies of celebrities, flaunted in TikToks and Instagram posts that garnered thousands of likes. His reputation was impeccable, his designs sought after by the elite.

You had crossed paths with Suguru a few times at various parties, your social circles occasionally overlapping due to mutual friends. Each encounter left an indelible mark on you. His presence was magnetic, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. It wasn’t just his talent that made him irresistible; it was everything about him. Those hawk-like eyes that seemed to pierce through to your very soul, the perfect curve of his lips that could shift from a smirk to a genuine smile in an instant, and those dimples that appeared whenever he graced you with that smile—each feature was a weapon, effortlessly disarming.

You, like many other girls, harbored a secret crush on Suguru Geto. It was impossible not to. That face alone could kill, and his charisma was the final blow.

And now, here he was, standing right in front of you, unmasked and undeniably real. The reality of it all hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and a little overwhelmed.

Suguru clears his throat, a small smirk playing on his lips from how obviously you are gawking at him.

"Shot in the dark here but are you the Mute Collector?"

You part your lips to say something but you can't seem to form the right words.

"I-"

Suguru's grin widens and a sharp laugh escapes his perfect mouth. "Oh my god. I knew it. I fucking knew they had it wrong about you with that bull shit profile they built. What was it, they said you were a 30 year old white man?" Suguru throws his head back and smiles at the ceiling. "And the Mute Collector? You? That's just awesome. I'm such a huge fan."

"Yeah..." You clear your throat and push your hair completely out of your face. He grins at you, as though awe struck, and if you weren't wearing 100 layers of grime on your skin you are sure he'd be able to see the blush flaming in your cheeks for a second.

"And you?" You nod toward the mask. "You are?" You don't know why you are feigning ignorance but something about humbling him seems tastier than actual food right now.

"Oh come on." Suguru's tone flattens and he brings the mask up next to his face.

"The Crucifer?"

You shake your head.

"The cross maker?"

You shake your head again. Lying through your teeth is fun.

"The Tokyo Butcher?" When you shake your head he sighs and stands up. "Well," he glances to Gary whose maggots have made their way to the empty eye sockets. "What do you say? We ditch this lousy scene and get something to eat. Maybe when you get food in your stomach you will remember some of my little nicknames."

Your eyes widen and your stomach growls loudly, reminding you of how long it's been since you last ate. You glance up at your Suguru, a mix of hope and suspicion in your gaze.

"Are you serious?" you ask, your voice hoarse from dehydration.

"Yeah, after we get you a shower, some clothes and burn the house down."

You gulp and stand to your feet. "Could we get burgers?"

Suguru grins before grabbing the remote and pointing it at the cage.

"Fine by me."

~

The Mute Collector.

Geto Suguru is sitting across from the fucking Mute Collector.

And god you are beautiful.

Not that he just realized it now. Like many others, he has always known how attractive you are; he just pushed it to the back of his mind. But now, knowing who you really are and what you do in your free time, your body has practically been encompassed in bright warm light and your head adorned with a halo. He watches as you down your 6th cup of water with a sigh and wipe your mouth with your sleeve.

The two of you sit in a cozy booth at a restaurant, the warm, smoky aroma filling the air. Suguru leans back with a beer in hand, watching you with a mix of amusement and caution. The waitress approaches, placing a large plate with a double cheeseburger and fries in front of you. Your eyes light up, and without wasting a second, you pick up the cheeseburger with your fingers and take a big bite, savoring the flavors.

Suguru chuckles, raising his beer in a mock toast. "You look like you've just found the Holy Grail."

He doesn't miss the way you stifle back a laugh, trying to speak through a mouthful of burger. "If the Holy Grail were covered in cheese and ketchup, then yeah, maybe."

He takes a sip of his beer, grinning. "I’ve never seen someone so excited about food. Maybe you should give up your little hobby and do food reviews."

"Well, that's what being trapped in a cage with the rotting corpse of a pedophile does to you I guess." You grumble, setting down the burger and taking another drink of water.

Suguru's eyes stay on you, and he takes the opportunity to really assess you. Your hair is damp, and the wetness seeps into the white Mickey Mouse shirt you're wearing, causing it to cling slightly to your skin and reveal the elegant lines of your collarbone. He bought that shirt and the shorts for you at a thrift store, and despite the fact that such clothes should look bad on anyone, you are rocking them effortlessly.

He can't help but notice that you didn't buy a bra, a fact that makes him smile to himself.

No bra.

"So tell me." Suguru sets his beer back on the table and leans in.

"The whole ears, eyes and heart thing." He waves his left hand in the air. "The police say it's satanic ritual stuff but I don't buy it."

You pause, a hint of a smile playing at your lips as you meet his gaze. "It's simple, really. Hear no evil, see no evil, fear no evil."

Suguru raises an eyebrow. "You have a way of making the macabre sound poetic."

You're about to reach for a fry, but he snatches it before your fingers could reach it.

"Why not the tongue?" He says. "You know, speak no evil."

You roll your eyes and snatch the fry out of his fingers. "Tongues are hard to cut, too slippery and make a mess."

He nods thoughtfully, leaning back in his seat. "You know, most people would be horrified to hear you talk like that."

"Good thing you’re not most people," you reply with a smirk.

"Touché."

He watches as your lips wrap around the thick fry and your teeth rip off half of it into your mouth.

No bra.

"What about you Suguru?" You lock eyes with him. "Why are you here?"

"Why am I here?"

"You heard me. You swoop in all superman-like, save me from the dipshit’s pedo dungeon and take me out for a double cheeseburger. Why are you here?"

Suguru shrugs and averts his gaze from your unyielding stare. Shit, your piercing eyes are almost making him sweat.

"Same thing you already did. I was going to skin him alive and and display the fucking monkey Jesus style infront of his house. At least, something like that."

"Yeah but why him? I thought your hunting grounds were in Tokyo?"

Your eyes widen slightly as the words hang in the air, the weight of your mistake sinking in immediately. You feel a rush of heat to your cheeks, a telltale sign of your embarrassment. Your lips part as if to take back the words, but it's too late; they've already been spoken.

A sly smile spreads across Sugurus face as he watches your face fall.

"Oh you totally know who I am Y/n."

"Fucking hell."

"You do! You know that I like to hunt near my home, how long have you been a part of my fan club?"

You roll your eyes and fall back into your seat. You blink rapidly, trying to maintain your composure, but the subtle tension in your jaw and the furrowing of your brow betray your embarrassment.

"So which one was your favorite? The monkey I strung up next to the police station? Or the one I flayed inside the Tokyo Union Church?"

"Oh my god I can already tell you are going to be insufferable." You grumble, the heat of embarrassment slowly dissipating as you take a deep breath. Suguru leans back, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he swirls the beer in his hand, watching you with an almost predatory curiosity. As seconds pass, Suguru assesses your face, following how your eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape route, and Suguru’s playful expression falters for a split second. He realizes with a sudden jolt that you're trying to leave. He can't have that. He needs to see you again.

"Hey speaking of suffering," Suguru clears his throat. "Have you heard about the women killings in Kyoto?"

Your eyebrows raise, curiosity piqued. "Yeah, I've heard. Pretty gruesome stuff. Why do you ask?"

A playful smile tugs at his lips. "How about a friendly competition? The killer's already taken six lives so far."

You tilt your head, your eyes narrowing slightly as you try to decipher his intentions. "What do you mean by a competition?"

Suguru leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "That's exactly what it sounds like. Who can hunt him down first?"

For a moment, you're taken aback, your eyes widening as you process his proposal. A mix of surprise and intrigue flickers across your face. "Are you serious?"

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction. "As sin."

"And what do we get if we win?"

Suguru's eyes gleam with amusement and something else—admiration. "Bragging rights, of course. And maybe... another dinner like this one."

You throw your head back and let out a laugh. "Oh yeah? Who says I'll need you to get me another dinner?"

"Can't let you go hungry again. What do you say?”

~

You sit at your desk, the dim light of your laptop casting a pale glow on your face as you scroll through articles about the woman killer from Kyoto. The room is quiet, save for the occasional click of your mouse and the hum of the laptop. Your phone buzzes, and you glance at the screen to see Shoko’s name. With a smile, you answer the call.

"Hey Shoko, how’s your night shift?" you greet her with a teasing tone.

Shoko’s laugh crackles through the speaker. "Busy as always. Just patched up a guy who thought he could outsmart a bulletproof vest with sheer willpower. Spoiler: he couldn’t."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Sounds like my type of guy."

By day, Shoko is your best friend and a dedicated med student, excelling in her studies with a, albeit, half hearted, passion for helping others. But when the sun sets, she transforms into the notorious Dr. Reverse, the underground doctor every criminal and lowlife turns to in their time of need. Using her medical expertise, she serves those who cannot seek help through legal means, operating in the shadows and patching up criminals who live by a different set of rules. In addition to her medical skills, she also deals in poisons, further cementing her reputation in the underworld.

You first met Shoko in a moment of desperation. After cornering a serial rapist, you were attacked with a machete, almost severing your arm. With nowhere else to turn, you sought out Dr. Reverse. Shoko skillfully sewed you up and, in the process, deduced that you were the infamous Mute Collector. To your surprise, she didn't seem to care about your identity, and you, in turn, didn't question her underground business or her dealings with poison. This mutual understanding and acceptance laid the foundation for a strong bond, and you've been best friends ever since. 

Shoko laughed, a sound that always manages to lift your spirits. "Right? Anyway, what's up? I saw your SOS text."

You hesitate, glancing at the photo of Geto Suguru on your screen on a separate tab. His annoyingly white teeth glare back at you, and you try to resist staring at his six pack in an instagram photo someone took of him at a pool party.  His dark eyes seemed to stare right through you, as if mocking your indecision. "It's about Geto."

There was a brief pause before Shoko's voice came back, tinged with curiosity. "Geto? What about him?"

You take a deep breath, your fingers drumming nervously on the desk. "He's the Crucifier."

Shoko's reaction was immediate and loud. "Geto is what?" she practically yelled through the phone, causing you to wince.

"The Crucifier. I know." You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all. "Can you believe it?"

Shoko let out a low whistle. "Wow. I mean, he always seemed like a guy with secrets, but I never pegged him for a serial killer, I mean, someone like you."

"Yeah, well, here we are," You mutter, rubbing your temples. You focus your attention back on your computer screen. Suguru is squeaky clean, not even a bad review on his website. There was only his questionable taste in best friends: Gojo Satoru—the biggest playboy and the infamous heir to the Gojo Company, Japan's largest and most influential corporation. Gojo's notoriety was legendary, his exploits plastered across tabloids and whispered in gossip circles. You’ve met, and been hit on by the man a few times, and not once did you fall for any of his slimy cheap antics. No, Geto Suguru is who your eyes fell on. 

 "And now he’s proposed some sort of competition."

"A competition?" Shoko's voice was practically dripping with amusement. "Like a hunting competition?”

You let out a snort of air through your nose. “Basically.”

Are you gonna do it?"

"I don't know," You admit, leaning forward and resting your chin on your hand. "I said I would, but I don't know. I barely know the guy. Well, I thought I did."

"Well, you should," Shoko said, her tone shifting to one of gentle teasing. "Besides, isn't this your chance to get closer to your crush?"

You feel your cheeks flush. "Shoko, seriously? Come on, that was ages ago."

"Hey, I'm just saying," she replies, laughter bubbling up again. "This could be your big break."

"You're impossible," you grumble, though you can't help but smile. "How's the side business, by the way?"

"Thriving," she says and you can practically see her small smile through the phone.. "You'd be amazed at how many people need a little untraceable something for their enemies."

"I don't doubt it," you say, shaking your head. "Just stay safe, okay?"

"You too, Mute Collector," Shoko says, her voice softening slightly. "And remember, if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."

"Always," you reply, your smile growing wider. "Thanks, Shoko. Talk to you soon."

"Later," she says, and the line goes dead.

You lean back in your chair again, your thoughts drifting back to Geto Suguru and the strange, dangerous world you both inhabit. As much as you hate to admit it, Shoko is right. This is your chance, not just to catch some sick killer, but to uncover the secrets that lie hidden beneath Suguru’s enigmatic exterior.

With a sigh, you close your laptop and stand up, determination settling in your chest. The competition awaits, and you have a feeling it's going to be a game changer.

~

“What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Suguru rolls his eyes at the white hair man’s mocking tone and continues to stare at his phone. It's been 10 minutes. How long does it take for someone to respond to a text. Suguru lay sprawled on the couch, his eyes fixed on his phone. Across the room, Gojo was bustling about in the kitchen, the sound of utensils clinking and food sizzling filling the air.

"Is this about Y/n? The Mute Collector or whatever?" Gojo asked, glancing over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.

Suguru didn't respond, his gaze unwavering from the screen. He could feel Gojo's eyes on him, the scrutiny almost tangible.

"I don't think I've seen you put this much effort into a woman since, like... ever," Gojo continued, his tone teasing. He turned back to his cooking, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement.

Suguru's jaw tightened, but he kept his silence. Gojo, undeterred, pressed on. "Besides the fact that she's the Mute Collector, what do you even see in Y/n? Well, I guess she does have other assets," he chuckled.

"Keep her name out of your fucking mouth, you prick," Suguru snapped, his voice low and menacing.

Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender, a laugh escaping his lips. "Alright, alright, no need to get all territorial."

Suguru continued to stare at his phone, his fingers hovering over the keys. "How long does it take for someone to respond to a fucking text" he mutters under his breath.

Gojo leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Maybe she's busy. Or maybe she's just messing with you. You know, playing hard to get."

Suguru finally looks up, his eyes narrowing. "She doesn't play games. And she's not hard to get—she's hard to keep."

Gojo raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by Suguru's reaction. “Touchy, touchy,” he mutters, returning to his culinary task.

Just then, Suguru's phone pings. His heart skips a beat as he sees your name flash on the screen. He quickly opens the message, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he reads your response.

Y/n: Fine, I'll do it. But what are the details?

Suguru: Oh, I'm thrilled

Y/n: Shut up.

Suguru: The rules are simple: whoever deduces the monkey’s identity first and guts the bastard wins.

Y/n: And how do I know you don’t already have a head start?

Suguru: I guess you'll just have to trust me. 

Y/n: Trust you? That’s rich coming from someone who literally stabs people in the back.

Suguru lets out a snort of air from your comment catching Gojo’s attention. “Ah, there it is. The smile of a man who's finally gotten what he wants.”

Suguru doesn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he focuses on your message, feeling a grin grow on his lips.

Suguru: You wound me, truly. But where’s the fun without a little challenge? Besides, I wouldn’t want to make it too easy for you

Y/n: Easy, huh? I suppose you think you’re quite the genius, then?

Suguru: Only compared to the average monkey. You, on the other hand, might actually make this interesting.

Y/n: Is that a compliment or are you just trying to butter me up?

Suguru: Can’t it be both? 

Y/n: Oh, don't worry. You’re not the only one who enjoys a good chase. But don’t cry when I beat you at your own game.

Suguru: Cry? Please. I’ll be too busy admiring you in action. It’s a win-win for me.

Y/n: Flattery will get you nowhere, Suguru.

Suguru: Really?

Suguru: Not even a little bit princess 🥺?

Y/n: *One attachment*

You send an image of your hand flipping him off. Your middle finger nail is painted black and he assumes so are all your other fingers. His heart thuds against his chest. God, how he would love to have those nails dragging down his back. His dick twitches just thinking about it. 

Gojo snickers as if he can read Suguru’s thoughts and Suguru considers throwing his phone at the smug white hair man when Gojo’s phone rings. Any humor falls off Gojo’s features like snow from a shaken tree branch. He glances at the caller ID, his eyes narrowing, and picks up the phone with a serious tone.

“This is Gojo.” He says. His voice is gruff as he responds to the caller with clipped “yes” and “no” answers, his timbre low. “I'll be there in 30 minutes.” 

When he sets down the phone, Suguru meets his blue eyes, Gojo’s brief smile is grim.

“Trouble?” Suguru asks.

“Trouble.” Gojo repeats.

On the exterior Gojo is Japan's most infamous playboy and philanthropist. But by night he is the devil's tool, the country's most lethal assassin for anyone from politicians to presidents.  What Suguru and you do for a hobby, Gojo Satoru does for his job.

Gojo dumps his hot food in a container, grabs his hunting knife coat and bag and heads for the door. Before he exits, he turns around to lock eyes with Suguru.

“Be safe. A woman killer is a deadly combo.” He says.

Suguru chuckles, and for a second he doesn't know if Gojo’s talking about you or the guy in Kyoto. “You to ass hat.”  

~

You can't believe you are doing this. 

You can't believe that you took up Suguru’s competition, spent 120 dollars on a train and hotel room at Kyoto and an extra 20 on room service. Moreover you can't believe that you are here, hiding in a forest of bamboo shoots at the dead of night, watching some man who may or may not be the Kyoto women killer.

It’s a warm summer night, and every time the wind blows, the bamboo shoots rustle against each other, creating a haunting melody that sets your nerves on edge. The air is thick with the scent of earth and foliage, and the occasional hoot of an owl punctuates the silence. You’re crouched low, your body tense, watching a man named Noaya Zenin who you followed out here. He seems to be wandering aimlessly, but you know better than to underestimate him. The Zenin clan's reach is long and shadowy, and their involvement in the Kyoto women killings is a tangled web you’ve been unraveling. All key witnesses were either paid off by the Zenin clan or had lawyers representing them from the Zenin clan. The pattern was too precise to be a coincidence.

Your heart thuds in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The thrill of the chase, the hunt, makes your senses sharper, every movement and sound more pronounced. You can feel the need creeping up on you, slowly reaching your brain until your skin itches with anticipation. 

Each minute feels like an eternity as you scrutinize Noaya’s every move. He stops occasionally, looking around as if sensing he’s being watched, and you hold your breath, pressing yourself closer to the ground. The moonlight filters through the dense bamboo, casting eerie shadows that dance with the wind. Your mind races, piecing together fragments of evidence and suspicion. If Noaya Zenin is indeed the killer, catching him here could be the breakthrough you need.

“Hiya.”

A scream almost rips through you when you feel someone's breath against your ear, but you quickly cover your mouth and whip around. Of course, you’re met face to face with the man you least wanted to see right now. Familiar hazel eyes gaze back at you, glinting with mischief and amusement. Suguru is crouched right next to you, his nose mere inches from yours, a sly smirk on his face. You didn’t even hear him approach.

“Suguru, what the fuck?” you hiss, keeping your voice low. Your first instinct is to grab your knife out of your pocket and press it against his throat but he holds both his hands up as if surrendering, stopping you.

“Woah woah princess, let's cool our engines.” He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying your reaction.

Your pulse is still racing, but you force yourself to calm down. “You could have given me a heart attack. How did you even find me?” You seethe.

“I have my ways,” he replies cryptically, his smirk widening. “Besides, I couldn’t let you have all the fun, now could I? So,” his eyes flicker to Noaya, who still seems to be staring at his phone. “Who are we looking at?”

“We?” You scoff and roll your eyes. “Are you kidding me? There is no we. This is a competition, remember? Go do your own research.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, come on. You know you love my company.”

Before you can retort, Noaya picks up his phone. You both strain to listen, and you catch his words clearly.

“Yeah, I’m at the bamboo forest. See you soon, babe.” He then hangs up the phone with a click and puts it back in his backpack. But just when you're about to turn back to Suguru and rip into the man, Noaya pulls something else out too. A hunting knife. A large one at that with serrated ends and a pointed tip that glints in the moon light. Just like the one used on the victims. And as if things couldn't get any more apparent, you watch as a wicked grin spreads across his face when he draws the blade diagonally through the air.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, eyes wide. “That’s definitely him. That’s like some comically evil villain shit right there.”

“Dibs,” Suguru whispers back, a glint of excitement in his eyes as he puts on his ghost mask. “I call fucking dibs.” He stands up, the crunch of leaves making Noaya whip around and stare right at the area you both hid in.

For a solid 5 seconds your two flabbergasted to even form words, you can only watch as Suguru steps out from the bamboo shoots and onto the trail, slowly walking toward Noaya like a lion cornering a gazelle. 

Or course, Noaya turns, screams like a little girl, and makes a hard right straight into the forest of bamboos.

“Oh hell no,” you mutter, leaping up and chasing after him. You sprint through the forest, the warm summer air thick and humid around you. Each footfall is muffled by the dense undergrowth, but the occasional snap of a twig or crunch of leaves marks your frenzied pace. Moonlight filters through the dense canopy, casting ghostly shadows that dance along the forest floor, creating an ever-shifting maze of light and dark.

Your breath comes in quick, controlled bursts, each inhale filling your lungs with the earthy scent of the forest. Adrenaline surges through your veins, sharpening your senses. The rhythmic pounding of your heart in your chest matches the rapid beat of your footsteps. Ahead, you can just make out the faint silhouette of Noaya, his panicked movements betraying his desperation.

Branches claw at your clothes and face, but you push through, eyes locked on your target. The thrill of the chase ignites every nerve, propelling you forward with a singular focus. Suguru’s presence is a constant just behind you, his footsteps a steady reminder of the competition driving you both. You can hear his breaths, steady and calculated, mirroring your own.

The path twists and turns, the bamboo growing thicker, creating a claustrophobic tunnel. You duck and weave, dodging low-hanging branches and vaulting over fallen logs. The forest floor is uneven, riddled with roots and hidden pitfalls, but your reflexes are sharp, your movements instinctual.

The thrill, the excitement, the danger—it all converges in this moment. You are a predator in your element, and your prey is within reach. The bamboo forest seems to blur around you, time stretching and contracting with each heartbeat. This is what you live for, the ultimate test of skill and nerve, the ultimate game of life and death.

Just as you’re about to close the distance, your fingertips brushing the fabric of Noaya’s shirt, he whirls around with surprising speed. The moonlight catches the gleam of his hunting knife as it arcs through the air. Instinct takes over, and you try to dodge, but the blade slices across your palm, leaving a hot, stinging line of red in its wake.

For a split second, time seems to slow. You see the wild desperation in Noaya’s eyes, the way his chest heaves with exertion and fear. But there’s no pain, only a white-hot fury that floods your veins, fueling your next move.

Your grip tightens around the hilt of your own knife, slick with blood but steady. The cut on your palm feels like a mere scratch compared to the surge of adrenaline that courses through you. With a fierce snarl, you lunge forward, using the momentum to drive Noaya back a step.

He stumbles, his confidence faltering as he realizes the severity of his mistake. You don’t give him a chance to recover. You move with a predatory grace, every muscle coiled and ready to strike. The forest around you fades into a blur of green and shadow, all your focus locked on the man in front of you.

Noaya swings wildly, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. You sidestep his attacks with practiced ease, your fury giving you a sharp, clear edge. The scent of blood mingles with the earthy aroma of the forest, and your pulse pounds in your ears like a war drum.

You close the distance again, this time with a calculated precision. Your free hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until the knife clatters to the ground. Noaya yelps in pain, his eyes widening in terror. The tables have turned, and he knows it.

Your injured hand, still bleeding, clamps down on his shoulder with a vice-like grip. You lean in close, your breath hot against his ear. “Nice try,” you hiss, the fury in your voice making him shudder. “But it’s over.”

With a swift, brutal motion, you plunge your knife into his chest. The blade sinks into flesh with a sickening thud, and Noaya's eyes widen in shock and agony. Blood spurts from the wound, hot and sticky, spraying across your face in a macabre mist. The initial strike is met with a gasp, a desperate, choking sound that fuels the savage fire within you.

A wicked grin spreads across your face, the thrill of dominance electrifying your senses. You pull the knife out, feeling the resistance of tissue and bone, and then plunge it in again, and again. Each thrust is accompanied by a wet, squelching sound, a symphony of carnage that drowns out the world around you. Blood flows freely, pooling at your feet and soaking into the earth.

Noaya’s body jerks and spasms with each stab, his strength fading with every violent assault. His once panicked eyes grow dull, the life draining from them as you continue your relentless attack. The coppery tang of blood fills the air, mingling with the scent of the forest, creating a heady mixture that makes your pulse race even faster.

You lose yourself in the rhythm of the violence, the way your muscles strain and flex with each plunge of the knife. Blood splatters across your face and clothes, warm and viscous, painting you in the evidence of your victory. Your grin widens, a feral expression of triumph and fury.

Amidst your frenzied stabbings, Suguru places a hand on your shoulder. "I think—" he begins, but when you turn around to face him he immediately shuts up.

Your eyes are wide, pupils contracted like a deranged predator. Your hair flows wildly in the wind as you grab Suguru's throat with your bloody hand, smearing the crimson on his skin and pressing him against a tree. 

"This woman-killer fucker is mine." You seethe.

His dick strains against his cargo pants waistband. You look divine.

“ Of course, All yours baby.” He coos.

~

Geto Suguru would be lying if he said that watching you tear apart that woman-killer wasn't the hottest thing he had ever seen. 

To Suguru, you looked divine. The moonlight accentuated the sharp angles of your face, casting shadows that danced across your blood-splattered skin. Your eyes, wild with the remnants of fury, glowed with an unearthly intensity. The contrast of crimson against your complexion made you seem otherworldly, a dark goddess of vengeance. Suguru couldn’t tear his eyes away, mesmerized by the raw, primal beauty you exuded in that moment.

The walk back to your hotel was silent, but not because you were soaked in blood or because he felt awkward. More like it was because the only think he could think to say is “You are so fucking hot.”

Now here he is, twiddling his thumbs as he stands outside of your hotel door, trying to think of the right thing to say to you because god he needs to see your face one last time before he goes to bed.

He raises his hand to knock, but before he can, the door swings open. You stand there, your hair wet and smelling faintly of vanilla. You’ve clearly just come out of the shower. A tank top clings to your damp skin, and sports shorts hug your thighs. His eyes widen slightly, and he gulps, struggling to keep his composure. 

No bra.

The sight makes his mouth go dry.

"Just checking to see if everything is good," he says, nodding toward your bandaged hand.

You feel yourself fidget in your place and you try to flash a small smile but your emotions betray you. What if you freaked him out? What he saw back there, what you did back there, that was you, the raw you. Behind all the layers of kind smiles and pleasantries, in many ways, you were no different than an animal, consumed by your predatory instincts. You wouldn't blame him if he never contacted you again after this. Shit, did you just fuck up everything?

 His presence fills the doorway, and you’re acutely aware of the tension between you two.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you reply, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Thanks for asking.”

His eyes flicker down to your hand, then back up to meet yours. “How’s the hand?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

You hold it up and wiggle your fingers slightly. “It’ll heal. No big deal.”

Silence fills the void between you two and you clear your throat, searching for something to say to break the awkward silence, but he beats you to it.

“Mind if I come in?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans against the doorframe. “Or are you planning to keep all the fun out here in the hallway?”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Sure, come in. But I warn you, it’s a mess.”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” he quips, stepping inside. His eyes scan the room, taking in the organized chaos. Bandages and clothes are scattered around the floor and he doesn't miss the splatter of blood on the white sheets of the hotel bed. After a moment, Suguru turns around and takes a step closer to you, like he’s examining you. 

You tilt your head slightly, letting a smirk play on your lips. "So, now that I’ve won the bet, what do I get?"

He chuckles, the sound low and smooth, as he takes another step closer, closing the distance between you. "I was wondering when you’d bring that up." 

You arch an eyebrow, trying to keep your composure despite the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. "Well? I’m waiting. What’s my prize?"

Suguru stops just inches from you. "I don’t know," he quips, "What do you want?"

You let out a short laugh, though it’s clear you’re testing him now. "That’s a big question."

Suguru's eyes darken slightly, his playful demeanor shifting into something more serious, more intense. He leans in just a fraction, his breath warm against your skin. "Try me."

The tension between you two is palpable, electric. You’re the first to break the silence, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "I want," you pause, averting your gaze from Suguru’s hawkish one. “I want to know if I scared you.” The question slips out before you can stop it, your bravado faltering as doubt creeps in.

Suguru blinks, then a slow smile spreads across his face. "Scare me?" He repeats, as if the idea itself is laughable. He steps even closer, forcing you to take a step back until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. "Scare me?” He repeats again. “You didn’t scare me," he continues, his voice low and sincere. "You… captivated me. I have never, and I mean never, seen something so magnificent as what you did. And that's saying a lot because I've done a shit ton of magnificent things.”

You sit down on the bed, more out of necessity than choice, as he looms over you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you feel a mix of emotions—relief, curiosity, and something much more dangerous.

"What are you doing?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as he leans in, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you in place.

He smiles, a slow, almost wicked grin that sends shivers down your spine. "Well, I thought I might kiss you now, you know, after telling you how magnificent you are.” He tilts his head. “Is that a bad idea?"

Your breath catches in your throat as the weight of his words sinks in. You forget to breathe.

You finally find your voice, though it’s a bit shakier than you’d like. "That depends…"

"On?" He asks, his face inching closer to yours, his gaze locked onto your lips.

"On how good you are at it," you murmur.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. Suguru closes the remaining distance, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s as intense as it is tender. It’s a slow, deliberate connection, his hands moving to cradle your face as if you’re something precious, something worth savoring.

The kiss deepens, and all the tension that had been building between you two finally snaps, leaving nothing but raw desire in its wake. You respond in kind, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as if you can’t get enough.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, and the world seems to have shrunk down to just the two of you in this moment. Suguru’s forehead rests against yours, and he smiles, a real, genuine smile that you can feel in your bones.

"So," he says, his voice husky and low. "How was that?"

You laugh softly, still trying to catch your breath. "Not bad," you admit, your fingers running through his black hair. "Not bad at all."

"Good," he replies, his lips brushing against yours in a whisper of a kiss. "Because I plan on doing it again."

Suguru’s lips are on yours again before you can even catch your breath, this time more insistent, more demanding. He’s not asking for permission anymore; he’s claiming what he wants, and it makes your head spin. The kiss deepens as his tongue slips past your lips, exploring your mouth with a slow, deliberate intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. You can taste him—warm, intoxicating—and you find yourself leaning into his lips, craving more.

His hand, warm and firm, slides down your side, tracing the curve of your waist before coming to rest between your thighs. The touch is electrifying, sending a jolt of sensation through you, and you gasp against his mouth, your heart pounding in your chest.

But it’s too much, too fast. Your mind races, and you instinctively pull back, breaking the kiss. “Wait,” you murmur, your voice breathless, “I dont know if we should….” You avert your gaze and turn your head toward the wall but Suguru grabs your chin, forcing you to look right into his hazel eyes. Then, he dips his head to whisper in your ear.

“Aw come one Y/n” He grazes your earlobe with his teeth. “I’ve been on my best behavior, a good boy,” Suguru pauses to deliver a soft kiss to your temple. “I've been waiting, waiting ever since I met you in that cage to do this. Don't I deserve a reward for my patience?” 

You thickly gulp as he rubs the sides of your neck with his lips.

“I’ve been-” He kisses your jaw. “Such a-” he kisses his way up to your mouth. “Good boy.”

You cave. 

As his words sink in, you feel your resolve crumbling, the weight of his desire pressing down on you in the most intoxicating way. Before you can even process what’s happening, Suguru's strong arms wrap around you, lifting you off the bed with effortless ease. His grip is firm but gentle, as if he's afraid of breaking you, and you can't help but let out a soft gasp as he lifts you off the bed and up so your head rests on the plush hotel pillow. His eyes lock onto yours, dark with intent, and you feel your breath hitch as the world narrows down to just the two of you. The room is filled with the sound of your breathing, heavy and uneven, mingling with the quiet rustle of sheets as he leans over you.

“I know you have been thinking about this too.” He coos. Suguru’s hands move with a deliberate slowness, as if savoring the moment. His fingers curl around the hem of your tank top, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he begins to lift it. The cool air hits your skin as he pulls the fabric up and over your head, exposing you to his hungry gaze. But before you can feel self-conscious, his lips are on your newly exposed skin, pressing gentle kisses along your collarbone, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice filled with awe and reverence. “Just so gorgeous.”

His hands are on your shorts next, tugging them down your hips with the same careful slowness, as if he’s unwrapping the most precious gift. As the fabric slips down your legs, he trails kisses along the newly exposed skin, his lips brushing against your thighs, your knees, your calves, until the shorts are discarded on the floor.

Now you’re lying before him in just your underwear, and the way he looks at you makes your heart pound. His eyes are dark and intense, filled with a hunger that makes your entire body flush with heat. “You’re gorgeous,” he repeats, his voice thick with emotion. “Just so damn gorgeous.”

Suguru straightens up slightly, his hands moving to the hem of his own shirt. In one fluid motion, he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside, revealing his bare chest. The sight of him makes your breath catch—his body is lean and athletic, muscles defined and sculpted from years of discipline and training. Tattoos cover his skin in an elaborate tapestry. He’s handsome, impossibly so, and the sight of him like this, just inches away, makes your pulse quicken.

He doesn’t stop there. His fingers move to the waistband of his sweatpants, and he slides them down, revealing more of his skin, his strong legs, until he’s kneeling before you in just his boxers. The fabric clings to him in a way that leaves little to the imagination, and you can’t help but stare, mesmerized by the sheer physicality of him.

Suguru catches your gaze, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Something catches your eye princess?”

You nod, “Yes. You. All of you.” Your eyes tracing every line and curve of his body. He’s more than just handsome—he’s breathtaking, a perfect combination of strength and beauty that leaves you feeling weak in the best way possible.

He leans down again, his body hovering over yours, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Good, wouldn't want you to be disappointed.”

With that, he captures your lips in a heated kiss, his hands trailing down your sides, touching, feeling, exploring. 

You are too lost in the kiss not to notice his hands slipping under your underwear and making their way to your dripping cunt, and when they do, you jump at the feeling of his index finger tracing your slit.

"Gotta get you ready baby.?" Suguru hums and you shake you head vigorously.

"No please Sugu~, I can take it."

You don't have to tell him twice.

In one fluid motion Suguru tears off your underwear, lays you on your back and positions himself between your legs.

"Been waiting to do this for so long," he murmurs as he pulls down his boxers and whips out his dick. You thickly gulp at the sight, you could've guessed he was big not this big, could he even fit in you? A white bead of precum dribbled from his pretty pink tip and down his length and he uses the liquid to stroke himself in a few fluid motions.

You could hear your heart in your ears and adrenaline coursed through your veins at rocket fire speed. The need in between your legs was too much, it was clouding your head and twisting your stomach so tight you almost felt sick. You jolt when his fat tip bumps into your clit; collecting your juices before pressing against your quivering hole.

"Suguru please~" You whine and nearly miss the way his ears go bright red at your words

"I know baby, I know. Don't worry, lift your hips for me love?”

You oblige and immediately when you do so you're struck with the feeling of his length spreading you so helplessly wide and his tip smashing against something which must be your cervix you think. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides into you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, you're cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making Suguru let out a low groan of his own and pushing even deeper into you. 

“F-fuck I can feel you doing it to me,” he said hoarsely.

His fingers gently press into the skin of your hip, guiding and steadying you as he pulls back and thrusts into you. The sudden friction and collision with your G-spot knocks the wind out of your lungs. Ticklish pleasure courses through your veins and you immediately throw your head back against the wall as Suguru thrusts into you.

"Hnghh, s-so good~~" You whine. It was dizzying, the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up.

Simultaneously, his other hand sought yours, finding it with a purposeful tenderness. His fingers intertwined with yours, locking them together in a grip that was both a clasp and a caress.

You dont even realize that your eyes are closed until Suguru whispers into your ear.

“Come on baby, open those pretty eyes, look at me.”

You do as he says and when you do you feel your heart thud in your chest. Suguru’s eyes were fixated completely on you, how you were reacting, as his hips were continuously slamming into your body as if it were clockwork. The sight alone had your walls clamping down on him, earning a groan from the base of his chest. 

Suddenly, the hand that had been intertwined with yours released its grip and began to rummage through Suguru’s discarded pants. Your breath hitched, eyes glazed over as you watched him retrieve a knife from his pocket, unsheathing it effortlessly with a flick of his finger. The sharp glint of the blade caught your attention from beneath Suguru’s body, even as he continued thrusting into you, not missing a beat.

Your body reacted instinctively, clenching at the sight, drawing a low, dark chuckle from Suguru.

“Hah, I knew it,” he said, his voice laced with a teasing edge as he brought the cold steel to the base of your throat. “You’re just a slut for knives, aren’t you?”

A moan escaped your lips, the sound betraying any chance of denial. Suguru took it as an admission, pressing the blade firmly against the skin of your throat as he angled his hips to hit even deeper inside you. The cool metal at your throat was electrifying, but it was his other hand, strong and unyielding, that sent a euphoric thrill coursing through you. His fingers flexed, tightening around your neck, the pressure intensifying.

It wasn’t just the air being cut off—it was the dizzying, intoxicating pleasure that came with it. The way his grip constricted, pushing you to the edge of control, ignited something raw inside. Every squeeze of his hand made your body burn hotter, a perfect balance between pain and pleasure, leaving you gasping for more.

What a primal dirty sight you where, being choked with a blade against your throat while fucked brutaly. Even the devil would clutch his rosaries.  

"Were we doing it like this in your head baby?" Suguru grunts, his Adam apple bobs as he groans from the pleasure of how fucking heavenly your pussy feels. “Because we were doing it like this in mine.” Good? Try euphoric, how could he ever think his fist could substitute the wet squeeze of your cunt?

You can't even open your mouth to respond. The friction of his dick against your walls and the adrenaline from the knife is just too good and as his pace intensified, a dizzying warmth spread through you, filling every corner of your being with a euphoric haze. The sensation of being completely enveloped, utterly connected, sent electric flesh arrows of pleasure through your body, making your eyes flutter and roll back slightly in sheer bliss. Every motion Suguru makes, every time his fat tip collides with your cervix, leaves behind a trail of sparkling heat that seems to light you from within.

"Come on eyes on me when I fuck you baby~" Suguru releases his hold from your neck and snakes his fingers between your body , finding your clit and pressing down on the pearl back and forth with the pad of index finger. "Tell me how good you feel, tell me how badly you want to cum.

He doesn’t slow the ministrations on your clit for a second as he snaps his hips into you with primal vigor, your breasts bouncing from the brutality.

"So good Sugu!" You sob. You cant even open your eyes from the colors you're seeing behind your lids. Every time your pussy squeezes around him not only do bolts of pleasure shoot up your body but a ring of milky white cum forms around the base of his cock.

Suguru’s eyes are locked on how good you're taking him - the fat of his head has a hard time popping out with how greedy your cunny is being. He lets out a sharp moan at how wet you are on the inside.

"S-shit baby wanna feel you cum on me, been waiting so long." Suguru is not a whining man but here he is practically stumbling over his words. Fuck, he wants to keep himself inside you forever. He wants your kisses, your skin, your touch, your blood, your lips, to be his to claim until you die together. No one has seen, truly seen him, before you. You are what he thinks about when he wakes up, when he is eating, when he is plunging his knife into some worthless monkey. You are his goddess. 

The world beyond this intimate cocoon of warmth and breath seemed distant, irrelevant. His gaze was locked with yours, deep and unwavering, a silent communication that tethered you through the mind numbing ecstasy.

Then, he reels his hips back and slams into you in a new angle that has your body jerking.

“Found it didn't I?” He breathes through a smile and pummels into you with vigor. And your about to disagree with him, insist that the feeling is too new and foreign to feel good when all of a sudden your body begins to shake and your head starts to feel fuzzy

And suddenly—you feel it. What you’ve been craving for and what you have seen in porn.

Its like all your body's energy centers are activating at once and your left utterly helpless to the feeling of tingling ecstasy wrapping your brain and stomach.

You dont know how to tell him that something is happening, not when the pleasure is too immense your barely breathing full breaths. But he understands once again the words you tried desperately to communicate.

“Do it baby. Cum. I’ll fill you up, and if it spills I'll fuck it back into you"

So you do.

Release washed over you in an all-encompassing wave, radiating out from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes. It swept through you like a storm, leaving a trail of starbursts in its wake. Your body arched instinctively, clinging to Suguru as the wave crested, then gently, slowly, began to ebb.

“Ah, princess, please,” he moaned. “Be a good girl and take it all, yeah?” 

Your fingers trailed up his shoulder, only to drag them back down his spine, nails biting into his skin as he buried himself deep inside you, releasing with a powerful shudder. His movements grew erratic, hips pressing yours firmly into the mattress as his hot breath skimmed across your neck, ragged and heavy.

The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this moment, lost in each other, with nothing but the sound of your breathing and the feel of his touch to guide you.

The warmth of his cum spreads through your body with a shiver, and you can feel the liquid expanding against your walls while he kept you plugged and full of him. As you both floated back down from the heights of bliss, your breaths came easier, softer, the lingering aftershocks of pleasure pulsing gently through you.

"You're mine ok?" Suguru coos, and all you can do is dumbly nod.

"I'll die for you, I'll kill a thousand monkeys for you, i'll hold them down so you can cut our their eyes. Just stay by my side."

[aspirationalpeony]

Lucky Me

Summary: You and Mel do a little experimenting after she shares a disappointing truth about her past relationships. Content Warnings: Lots of smut. :) This fic is loosely set in the same world as "Finding Beauty," but can be enjoyed independently. AO3 Link

"He wasn't good at it," Melissa says. "Joe. Makin' me come." She blushes.

It's so not her--tough, capable Melissa, fearless and demanding. You touch her cheek, brush a strand of red hair back behind her ear. She hasn't had a touch-up in a while, and there's a streak of gray growing in at her temple. You love that she can be vulnerable with you, admitting these little truths about herself, in words, in body.

"Really?" you say. You have a well, duh moment in your own head: the last time you saw Joe, he interrupted you constantly, derailing your thoughts to tell his own stories, never letting you get to the punchline of a joke. He just feels like a bad lover, inattentive and untrustworthy. Plus, you know the stuff he said to Melissa about her body.

"Yeah." She plays with the band of her smart watch, then leans forward off the couch toward the coffee table, picking up her wine glass. (It's a weeknight, so the liquid inside is grapefruit-flavored sparkling water.) "And 'specially later on, I couldn't get wet, he'd get so frustrated."

"Even though you were telling him what to do?"

Putting her glass back down, she cuts a look at you for the assumption, but it breaks out into a smile, a little sheepish. Your heart does a flip-flop at the sight. "Well, yeah."

Your fingertip traces the shell of her ear. She shivers. You can't believe Joe would get frustrated, impatient, bored of trying to give this woman pleasure. Every inch of her has some private sensitivity: the lobes of her ears, the small of her back, behind her knees, below her navel. Getting to learn these secrets has been the most incredible privilege. And it's been fun.

It's taken her a while to learn to let you, rather than tell you; to give you a chance to explore. She's so used to controlling every moment, organizing her own pleasure and yours. You love when Melissa is the boss, but you also love when she gives up the authority; when she melts into the feeling and lets you be in charge.

"What about Gary?" you ask.

She snorts. "Gary who?" Her mouth twists and she shakes her head, at the question, at herself. "I mean, sometimes I'd take his mustache for a ride, but that's about it. He didn't have, y'know. It." Her eyes flick up to yours again. You haven't missed the way they've been down this whole time, unable to hold your gaze; how her chin is tucked toward her chest, her shoulders up. "It doesn't... Bother you? Talkin' about them?"

You check in with yourself, but end up shrugging. "Not really." You've spent time with Melissa and Joe together, and there's no heat between them, just the friendly chemistry of two people who've known each other half their lives. Gary you did see once, and he looked kind of like an uncooked ham. What is there to be jealous of?

You study her face. She's still pink and a little twitchy. "Does it bother you? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." You drop your hand to her nape, rubbing your thumb comfortingly along the column of her neck. She sways into you with a sigh.

"I wanna," she says. "Talk about it. I feel like I..." Her lips pinch. "Owe ya."

"No," you say, straightening up. The plastic of the couch creaks with your movement. "Melissa, you don't owe me anything. I want to talk about it if you do, but--"

"Nah, that's--" she shakes her head. "It's not what I meant. I mean, I... It's like, it's a part of... Me. Y'know." She pushes her hair back from her face. "And 'cause I love you, and--" she laughs a little--"cause you're stuck with me, I..."

Your always-active heart gives a tremor, hearing the cautious vulnerability of her voice. You slide your arm around her and pull her in.

"It ain't that big a deal," she says, muffled, lying, against your shoulder.

Even if she can't admit it--your tough-girl sweetheart, not wanting to let her soft heart show--you can. "It is to me," you say, and squeeze her.

You loosen your grip, and she tucks herself against your side. It always surprises you how small she really is. Every day she's like a cat that's making itself big, back up, fur on end, daring anyone to come at her; here she gets to shrink back down, turn back into herself, become your kitten.

"I don't get it," you say after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "It's fun making you come. I love it."

"Lucky me," Mel says, very smugly.

"I sometimes think about--" you stop. This really isn't the moment for your fantasies: yeah, you guys were talking about sex, but not in the dirty sense; it was Melissa sharing something important, something emotional, and...

"Yeah?" she says. Her voice has two registers when she's turned on: airy, almost girlish, usually when you've surprised her, and throaty, a rasp. Now it's that fainter, breathless one. The sound of it sends a tickling frisson down your spine.

"Um," you say, and it's your turn to blush. "I think about... A lot of things."

"I'm waitin'."

You huff an embarrassed laugh. It's one thing to fantasize, another thing to tell the object of your fantasy all about it. "Sometimes I think about," you say, and clear your throat, "how sensitive you are. And I want to know how many times I can make you come."

You can feel the way her breathing speeds up, her body against your side, but she doesn't speak.

"We usually stop at two," you say, "but I think you can take more. I think you can take a lot more. And--sometimes, I think about how little it takes, like, when you're right there. Like I can just breathe on your clit and you'll come. I think about getting you there and telling you 'no.'"

Her breath catches.

"I bet you'd go crazy." You're smiling a little. You touch your mouth, tapping your lower lip, thinking of it. "You'd cuss me out, you'd yank my hair. You'd probably try to finish yourself off. I might have to tie you up to stop you."

"Oh," she says.

You risk a glance at her face. She's looking up at you from where she's leaning against your side, her green eyes glassy, her cheeks pink, her lips parted.

"You like that, baby?" You slide your hand down her back and feel the muscles shift as she moves, pushing herself up, then throwing a leg over you, settling onto your lap.

Having her like this is perfect. She used to hold herself up on her knees, not letting you take her weight, until you got her to understand that you loved the pressure of her body against yours, that there was no such thing as too much of her.

She dips her head and kisses you. It's not a starter kiss, warming you up; she kisses you like you're inside her now, deep and filthy, putting her tongue in your mouth with no foreplay. You groan as her hand cups your neck, feeling the prickle of her manicured nails against your skin.

"You think about me like that a lot?" she asks you when she's letting you catch your breath. The words are low, your faces close, like it's a secret someone could overhear.

"Yeah," you admit. Your hands slide over her hips to grip her ass. She gives an encouraging little motion when you squeeze. "I love thinking about what I could do to you..." Her breath hitches again. "What you'd enjoy."

"You get off on it?"

"Yeah, I do," you say. "I get off on getting you off."

Her eyelashes flutter. She makes a noise like a whimper. You have a flash of inspiration, and before you can second-guess yourself, you take her hand from your neck, the other from your shoulder, and pull them behind her back.

She gasps. It's an arrow of electricity right to your clit. Her eyes open wide, searching for yours, as you gather her wrists into one hand. It's not a very strong grip--she could yank away from you easily--but it pulls her shoulders back and leaves her chest thrust forward.

"Is this okay?"

She nods.

"You have to tell me."

"It's okay," she says. Her voice has dropped into that second register of pure arousal, throaty and low. "It's... It's good."

"Did Joe ever do this to you?" You don't know what makes you bring him up. Not jealousy, but... Maybe curiosity. Maybe wondering if he ever took the time to catalogue Melissa's reactions, to think through what would really turn her on, if he ever gave that much of a shit.

She chuckles breathlessly. "Like to see him try," she mutters. Her blush is traveling down her throat and blotching her chest.

You follow its path to the three buttons at the front of her blouse. You watch her chest start to heave as you work them open with your free hand. They expose the center gore of her bra and a hint of the silky curve of its cups.

You palm one breast roughly, squeezing. She groans. You can just feel her hardening nipple through the layers of fabric separating you. You thumb it, pinch hard, to make sure she can feel it, turning her next moan into a whine.

Her hips rock into your lap, trying to get friction. You lean back to look at her: disheveled, red, her hair spilling everywhere, her lip gloss blurry from kissing.

"You're so fucking sexy," you tell her, voice low, making her moan again.

You'd love to finger her, but there's no lube, and she's in leggings pulled up high over her hips, with not a lot of room between the two of you to get inside them. You slide your hand between her legs and over her covered sex.

She pushes down into your palm, hard, as you nose the tender inner curve of one breast, tracing your lips against the edge of her bra. Pressing through her leggings, you can feel the plump shape of her cunt. You trace those folds down, then up, over her clit.

"Oh, fuck," she breathes as you start rubbing. "Oh, fuck..." She shifts restlessly; you think she might pull her wrists away, but instead she arches toward you, drops her head back, inviting a bite to her throat, which you give. You suck soft skin into your mouth, scrape of your teeth, nibble, move down, find another spot, repeat. You can't leave marks, but there are blotches of satisfying pink where you've touched her.

"You getting close?" You work your thumb against her clit.

"Uh huh," she says, weak and needy. She picks her head up again and there's a lost, fogged look of pleasure on her face as she meets your eyes.

You hold her gaze. "Tell me when you're there," you say. "When you're right there. Okay?"

Her brow creases as she tries to focus. You wonder if she's ever tried to do this before, parsing out stages to her pleasure, or if she's always just gone up and over, never thinking about how she got there.

"I--I--I think I'm--" her voice is wobbly.

You pull your hand away. She whines and her hips jab down toward your lap, seeking a touch that isn't there. You rub her thigh, slide your hand up, over the soft curve of her belly and down to press against her mons; her hips jolt again.

"Fuck you," she says feebly.

You rub your thumb back and forth, far above where she wants it. You know she can feel the contact here in her cunt, a phantom pressure to remind her how empty she is, how close she was.

"More?" you ask.

She squirms and nods. When you give her no response, she huffs a sigh, rolls her eyes, and says, "Yes, fine, yes, more, oh--shit--"

You've found her clit again. You know this time she'll already be sensitive, and she might not be able to tell you when you need to stop. You focus on watching her: the glazed look in her eyes before she shuts them, her parted lips, her frantic breaths, her rocking hips.

You time it; you pull your thumb away. She gives a frustrated cry and squirms in your lap. You take pity and give her a distraction, rubbing your cheek against her breast, finding the hint of her pebbled nipple, the one you neglected before, and biting hard. You feel the elasticity of her bra's cup more than you feel her flesh, muting the sting of your teeth, but it makes her keen.

"You've got no fucking clue how hot you are," you tell her. You bite again and tug, drawing out another delicious sound. "I haven't even taken your clothes off. Look at you. I want to do this to you forever."

Your thumb at her clit again, this time so lightly it barely counts. "You want to come, don't you?"

Her wrists twist in your grasp, but don't pull away. She says, all breathless, angry bravado, "What do you think?"

"I think I could stop right now." She gasps, though you don't stop gently rubbing her clit. "Even though I want to make you come. And after that, I want to take you upstairs and eat you out. I want to suck on you and get you all over my face. I want--"

"Oh, shit, I," she says weakly, her hips starting to twitch.

Realizing, you say, "Just from this?" She's really almost there again? "Fuck, you're incredible. Should I stop?"

"No," she whines.

"You want it harder?"

"Yes!"

You give her what she wants. Finally, she pulls her wrists out of your grip so she can grab your hand and shove it fully against her cunt, letting her ride your palm to her orgasm. Melissa's always noisy, but this time, she's loud, the sound of her desperate cry huge in the living room.

"Oh, fuck," she says faintly as she sags down onto your lap. "I, oh..."

"You did so good," you murmur to her and rub her back, grateful to have both hands again. She buries her face in your neck and clings to you, breathing hard. She mumbles something. "What, baby?"

She picks up her head a little. "I said, 'yeah, you too.'"

It makes you snort. It's a funny mix of tenderness, affection, and gratitude you feel, knowing that even after an orgasm that took her like a runaway train, she'll still make sure to remind you of your place. Can't ever get too smug around Melissa.

You trace a hand up and down her back, finding the hem of her blouse and rucking it up so you can touch her bare skin underneath. She's hot against your palm and it makes you sigh.

"You want to go upstairs and keep going?" you ask, mouth against her ear.

"I wanna recover first," she says blearily. "What the hell was that?" She sits up a bit in your lap and you have room to reach around her and pick up her water from the table.

"A little taste," you say.

She brings the glass to her lips and sips, eyes narrowed, watching you the way kung fu heroines watch their enemies, prepared to bust out their fists at any moment.

"Of what I've been thinking about," you add. You rub her lower back. "I think you liked it."

"I think you gotta be crazy to get off on somebody not letting you come," she says, then scowls. "Which I guess makes me crazy."

"I guess it does." You can't smother your smile. "You're okay, though?"

"What do you mean? I came, didn't I?"

"I mean, sometimes emotions can get weird," you say, "after doing that kind of stuff. You get a lot of hormones and chemicals in you and they can make you feel..." You shrug.

"You got a lot of experience with 'this kind of stuff'?" Now her gaze is accusing. "You been holdin' out on me?"

"No, not a lot of experience. A little, maybe." You hold her hips, rubbing your thumbs over their soft curves. "A little experience. And a lot of things I want to do to you."

Her whole body shudders. She reaches back to put her water down, then loops her arms around your neck and kisses you. It's her post-coital kiss, lazy and loving, the hunger more muted.

"Gee," she says breathlessly when you part, and repeats herself, a grin curving her lips: "Lucky me."

[lot-of-nothing]

Entwined (Ch. 7)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Weekend getaway :)

Warnings: Suggestive themes aaaaandd a little of that internalize homophobia again

Author's Note: NO BETA BC THIS TOOK ME FOREVER GOOD LORD IM SORRY FOLKS! I moved and started a new job and I leave for Europe in a week so life has been NUTS

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Melissa led the way through the front doors of the hotel. You could tell she was excited by the highly animated way in which she spoke to you. She used her hands and fingers to gesture to you and she lingered close to you with her last word, “This weekend is about three things: the endless buffet, laying by the pool, and sex.”

The corners of your lips rose as her lips neared your own. There were still a few inches between you, but you knew that was plenty close for a place as public as a hotel lobby, “In that order too?”

Your response made the redhead laugh as both of her hands squeezed your bicep. You lost yourself for a moment while you watched her grin at you. It was the voice of a man that unfortunately ripped her eyes from you, “Melissa?” 

As she turned to face the voice, her red hair flicked over her shoulder with the spin of her head. When her eyes landed on the familiar face of her ex boyfriend, her smile faded, but her tone remained polite, “Hey, Gare.”

A brief silence fell between the former lovers (as did a thick awkwardness), and you waited patiently for one of them to speak up. Gary was the first to break the silence when he noticed Melissa’s eyes wander over to the brunette at his side, “Oh, this is my girlfriend - Lea Ann”

Melissa only nodded, remaining silent and giving a faux smile to the lofty man. It was when he realized Melissa had very little interest engaging with Gary and Lea Ann that Gary decided to turn his attention to you. With a kind smile, he reached out his hand, offering it to you along with his name, “Gary.”

“Y/N.” You return the smile and handshake, surprised at the way his face lit up at hearing your name.

“Mel told me about you when we were dating.” He quipped while wrapping his arm around Lea Ann’s shoulders, hugging her to his side. He seemed genuinely delighted to make your acquaintance - it made you wonder why Melissa refused to commit to something more serious with him.

You folded your arms over your chest, glancing down at Melissa and then back to Gary again, “Did she now?”

Gary was highly enthusiastic with how he spoke to you, recalling memories Melissa had shared with him months ago, “Of course. You were her date to the senior prom after some punk ditched her.”

You couldn’t hide your pleasure in knowing Melissa had talked about you in her previous relationship. You had always assumed she would have kept even your friendship a secret. With a great big smile, you bump your shoulder against hers lightly, “I mean, how could I say no to a face like that?”

Melissa gave a reluctant smile, changing the subject away from your relationship, “What are you guys doin’ out here?”

Gary eagerly squeezed Lea Ann to his side once more and beamed at her. The brunette shifted into his side, wrapping an arm behind his back to better lean against him. It was clear they were enamored with one another, “Early anniversary trip. Lea Ann and I met at Dave & Busters not too long after we broke up. She is real good at skeeball.” 

Lea Ann added to the conversation with a shy voice, “How about you guys?”

“A trip for old times’ sake.” Melissa’s response contained a tone that was anything other than warm. While some might not have noticed, you saw her turn snarky and her nose wrinkled ever so slightly. It was obvious to you Melissa was offended by what she thought was Lea Ann’s ‘nosiness’. The redhead folded her arms over her chest, indicating she was finished with the conversation.

Gary knew Mel well enough to give a curt nod and guide Lea Ann away from you both, “Well, I hope you two have a great time.’

“Yeah, you too.” Your voice fell as they walked away - knowing full well Melissa would be upset at this interaction when you arrived at the hotel room.

—

You shifted awkwardly near the door of the hotel room. Melissa had abandoned her luggage in the middle of the room and tossed her purse on the bed before dropping into the chair into the corner to scroll on her phone. She seemed increasingly detached from you since you had spoken to Gary. 

While the detachment made you furious, you gave her a chance to tell you how she was feeling before you spiraled, “Everything okay?”

She didn’t even look up from her phone when she replied. If anything, she seemed annoyed that you would even ask such a question, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Biting your tongue, you turn your back to her with a huff and tug open the door, “I’m gonna go downstairs.”

—

You twist the glass of dark liquor in your hand, mindlessly watching the ice swirl about in the liquid. A fire had been lit in your stomach at the realization that nothing had changed between Melissa and you. She still refused to admit her feelings for you or the opposite sex. Of course you were infuriated, but it was more of a rage fueled sadness had you refusing to look at Melissa who sat (im)patiently next to you. 

“You gotta work with me here. It’s one thing to take a weekend away together, but it’s a whole other thing to be tellin’ people that we are a couple.” Melissa sounded colder than she would have wanted, but there was no taking the words back now. You felt yourself growing angrier by the second.

It was clear Melissa didn’t truly understand why you were upset with the entire situation. With a deep sigh, you chose to explain your feelings to her, “I don’t mind that we aren’t official or whatever. I don’t even care that this is so casual. I just can’t be your dirty little secret anymore.”

“It isn’t like that.” 

Her reply was quick, but you weren’t convinced. “Melissa… Anytime someone gets remotely close to the truth, you get all spooked and then I have to deal with the consequences.”

The redhead chewed at the inside of her cheek, unsure of what to say to you. She remained facing forward, her fingers absentmindedly ripping at the napkin placed in front of her by the bartender. Mel furrowed her brow as she spoke, “I’m not spooked. I just don’t want people all up in my business.”

You weren’t convinced.

“Either way... You know how I feel about you... how I have always felt about you, and I-” In an instant, you regret opening your mouth. You could see a faint blush spreading across her cheeks from the corner of your eye. As always, you had gotten ahead of yourself, and now it was time for you to finish explaining your emotions before Melissa found a way to steer the conversation away from the vulnerability it was currently steeped in, “For me, it feels like you’re ashamed... of me, and it’s not a great feeling.”

Melissa glared at you for a few moments, and then you saw her left hand reach out to hold you by the back of the neck to pull your lips to hers. Your heart began pounding in your chest as you felt Mel’s teeth teasing your bottom lip and her right hand creep up to the middle of your thigh.

When she pulled her lips away from yours, her voice was low, “I’m sorry I made ya’ feel that way. I could never be ashamed of you.”

Regardless of the people sitting all around, you dove back in for another kiss. You felt her melting into you. With every second you kissed her, Melissa inched closer to the point in which she had slipped off her chair to stand between your knees. Her hands braced against your thighs and breasts pressed to your chest. 

The redhead was breathing heavily when she finally drew her lips away from yours. She had turned her head to glance around the room in search of prying eyes when you buried your nose in her hair. 

After Melissa’s worries of being watched were soothed by the absence of onlookers, she turned back to you, capturing your face in her hands. She spoke in a low tone which caused you to swallow hard, “Let’s go upstairs, hon.” She took your hand, tugging you along after her towards the hotel lobby. 

The deafening chorus of casino games, live music, and both winning and losing gamblers was all but a mere whisper to you the moment Melissa peered over her shoulder at you with a smile - a smile that only confirmed your long standing love for her.  

When she had you in the elevator, you were up against the wall before the door was closed with her mouth against yours. Mel was busy trailing her lipstick from your lips to your neck as you choked out a dizzied concern, “We are... going to miss our... uh, dinner reservations.”

“Where at?” Melissa was far too busy tasting your collarbone to give much attention to the thought of going out for dinner. She was far more interested in getting you up to your hotel room to get more acquainted with the hotel bed.

“Some fancy steakhouse.” You murmur before returning her fervor. By now the elevator doors were shut and neither of you had given much more thought to pressing a button to get the elevator moving. Instead you were more consumed with the urge to turn the tables on Melissa and press her against the elevator wall. 

Melissa’s hands were woven tightly into your hair as you pinned her to the wall. Your force only propelled her further into the raging desire she felt for you. Mel didn’t need to use any words to convey how much she needed you. Everything about your kisses was sloppy and steeped in desire. 

She allowed one of her hands to wander to the back of your neck as your lips drifted down her neck to her cleavage. The redhead held you tight with one arm while the other clumsily reached to illuminate the button to floor 15, “We can just order pizza.”

Her efforts to get the elevator headed towards your floor weren’t swift enough. The elevator dinged and the doors to the lobby parted, allowing a familiar tall, bald headed man and his brunette girlfriend onto the elevator with you both. 

With the introduction of Gary and Lea-Ann onto the elevator, Mel and you partially parted. She kept an arm around you with a hand resting on your hip and her body was pressed to yours as she suppressed a coy smile. Melissa raised a manicured hand to her lips, attempting to tidy her smeared lipstick with her thumb. All the while she stared at you down like a starved lion. 

Your heart was pounding and you couldn’t take your eyes off her. It took everything in you not to confess your love then and there. She was beautiful like this - seemingly liberated of her shame and enthralled with the premise of being caught in such a public act of affection. 

Gary was obviously confused by your closeness and he cocked his head, needing to double check to see if it was really Melissa who was really pinned into the corner of the elevator by you, “Melissa?”

“Oh, hey.” She cleared her throat and acknowledged him with a wave of her hand. You attempted to move your hands from her waist, but her hand caught your wrist to prevent you from pulling away. 

The elevator devolved into silence as it began moving to the upper floors. You couldn’t see the looks on Gary or Lea-Ann’s faces as you were too busy watching every shift in Melissa’s expressions. You wondered if this would be the end of your relationship. Your heart was pounding and you were growing anxious at the thought of the potential rejection headed your way. The only thing that kept you from completely losing it was Melissa’s manicured hand on the back of your neck, softly twirling your loose locks between her digits. 

Her eyes flickered between the rising elevator numbers, your company, and the elevator doors. Melissa was terrified of who Gary could tell. Through all of her family and friends, she knew this moment could reach someone she knew in a matter of hours. Her personal fears were being slowly subdued by her own willpower. As her eyes drifted back up to your face, they were now filled with a subtle determination to prove herself to you. 

Melissa pushed against your abdomen so you would step aside, but she kept both hands on you as she talked to Gary, “How’s your night goin’?”

“Good. I- I didn’t know you two were-” Gary couldn’t hide an ounce of his confusion at seeing you together. 

“Together? Yeah, well... Now you know.” The redhead finished his sentence before adding her own bit of attitude at the end of her thought. A lump formed in the back of her throat at admitting your relationship out loud, but there was no taking it back now. 

While Melissa was dealing with her own inner turmoil, you were relishing in the fact that Melissa described you two as being ‘together’. You were riding that high even after the elevator stopped on your floor and Mel took your hand to pull you after her. 

It was Melissa who lifted your arm to place around her shoulders when you stepped off the elevator. She also turned back to face her ex boyfriend with a cheeky grin, “Have a good night you two.”

Link to Chapter 8

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta, @unicorniusfallapatorius, @sapphicxrat, @earpivore, @jeridandridge @petty-femme27, @darkcolorphantom, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @cosmichymns

[janeyseymour]

Intervention- pt 2

an anon asked for a part 2 where Barb might be hurt that she doesn't know about you.

WC: ~2.9k

“You have a girlfriend?” Jacob is the first to gasp out. “Mel Mel, I didn’t know that I wasn’t the only queer one in the school!”

Your girlfriend rolls her eyes. “Yes, I do have a girlfriend, and you ain’t nothin’ special kid. I just don’t make it as known as you do.”

“I’m Y/N,” you smile at the group. You then address them all by name. They look impressed. And then you get to Barbara Howard- of course you know that she’s your girlfriend’s work-wife. “And Barbara, I’ve heard the most about you. It’s truly a pleasure getting to finally meet you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” she glances at you as she shakes your offered hand. “Melissa has kept you her dirty little secret for how long?”

“Barb,” the redhead warns lowly. “She ain’t my dirty little secret- just a topic that hadn’t really come up in conversation.”

“Well, I would say that-”

“Why don’t you guys come on in,” you tell the group softly, trying to get the two squabbling women to quit. There does not need to be any point of contention while your girlfriend’s friends are here, and it certainly does not need to be over you. All you want to do is make a good impression.

They all enter the house that they thought they knew and had seen prior to the breakup with Gary. But now, it’s different. It’s… definitely still Melissa- but the plastic on the couches are gone, it’s a bit brighter, and there’s a sense of someone living in the space. It’s nice. You don’t miss the way that Barbara only continues to study you as you lead everyone in, offering drinks or food in the kitchen.

“Melissa wouldn’t let me in the kitchen for this, so please… know that you won’t get food poisoning from today,” you joke as you hold the redhead’s hand. “There are other beverages outside in a cooler if you would rather a beer or something like that. Please… help yourselves.”

You head outside yourself to go grab yourself and your girlfriend a Yuengling. “Does anybody want a beer?”

Mr. Johnson is the only one that agrees, the others deciding that a water or a soda is okay for now. So, you head out to grab three beers.

Meanwhile, the rest of the crew is staring down the mob-like woman that they thought they all knew.

“What?”

“Damn, Schemmenti,” Ava raises a hand for a high five. “She’s hot!”

Melissa just rolls her eyes, but she does give her boss a high five, along with Mr. Johnson.

“Well, tell us about her!” Jacob and Janine both look at the redhead urgently. “How long have you been together, what’s the deal with her?!”

Barbara just looks at the woman she thought trusted her enough to tell her about a relationship like this with crossed arms.

“She is here, so you can just ask her yourself you know,” Melissa chuckles as she sees you come back inside. You go for the bottle opener on the fridge, expertly popping the tops off of the beers before distributing them out. 

“Ask me what?” you ask as you snake an arm around Melissa’s waist and pull her closer gently.

“About you!” Janine states with fire. “We didn’t even know you existed!”

“Well,” you chuckle. “I’m Y/N, I’m an accountant down at one of the firms in Center City, Mel and I met at a Bally’s in Atlantic City, and we’ve been dating for about… a year and a half?”

“You kept this from us for a year and a half?” Gregory cuts in.

Your girlfriend just shrugs. “Youse never asked if I was dating anyone- just assumed I was single and mopey.”

You see the way that Barbara glares down her friend, and you try to cut the tension by inviting everybody to come sit outside in the small backyard that you have. They of course follow. 

You and Melissa allow everybody to find a seat before you go to sit, but of course, there is only one chair. She takes it while you perch on the side of it. With an eye roll, she pulls you into her lap.

“We’re dating, hun,” she tells you. “You’re allowed to act like you love me.”

“I do,” you laugh. “Was just trying to be respectful and not make anyone uncomfortable.”

“Greg and Janine were grinding up on each other at the club,” Ava laughs with a wave of her hand. “And that was before they were dating. Y’all are together, and have been for some time.”

The two mentioned blush as they look at each other… they were hoping their boss would’ve forgotten that by now.

It’s a bit of time as they chat and catch up, Melissa filling you in on the missing pieces as she sips from her beer, before conversation comes to a quiet lull. Barbara only continues to stare down the two of you, and it’s quite clear she isn’t happy.

Barbara Howard not approving of this relationship is something that could make or break what you have going on with who you genuinely think might be the love of your life. Barbara Howard was the one person that you were really hoping to impress, and she’s making it quite clear that she does not care for you. Barbara Howard hasn’t spoken a word to you or Melissa since the first few minutes that she’s been at the house. And it is making you beyond uncomfortable. 

“Well, I think I might start firing up the grill,” you sigh softly as you stand from your place in Melissa’s lap. “We have stuff for burgers and dogs, so… if everyone wants to let me know what they want, I can get that started?”

You have everyone’s orders being shouted at you faster than you can type the orders down in your notes. All of the orders have been taken except for… except for Barbara’s.

“Barbara?” you ask softly, eyes full of warmth. You’re really trying to get her on your good side.

“I’m fine,” she says astutely.

“Make a couple extra of each,” the redhead tells you. “I’ll grab a couple plates for you to put ‘em on as they’re finishing up.”

Of course, Mr. Johnson, Jacob, and Gregory both follow you over to the grill and make conversation with you as you cook, leaving the rest of the Abbott crew with your girlfriend.

While Jacob is questioning what feels like every aspect of your life at the grill, you can hear Barbara and Melissa getting into it.

“Are you seriously mad?” you can hear your girlfriend ask her work wife, clearly annoyed. 

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t trust me enough to tell me who’s courting you,” Barbara states, hurt evident in her voice.

“Nobody’s courtin’ me, Barb. This ain’t Bridgerton,” the second grade teacher retorts with a sarcastic laugh. 

“I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t tell me,” your girlfriend’s work wife tells her. “We’ve been friends for over fifteen years, and you’ve told me about other relationships- like Gary.”

“Because you approved of Gary,” Melissa tells Barbara.

“And what would make you think I wouldn’t approve of Y/N?”

“Well,” your girlfriend drawls out. “She’s a woman, you’re a woman of God, she’s a hell of a lot younger than we are, and it started out at a casino and sharing a cigarette. Forgive me if I thought that Barbara Howard, woman of God, might not like the backstory I would’ve given you.”

Barbara goes to spit something else out, but Janine cuts in rather quickly. For once, her and Ava are on the same team and are able to divert the conversation elsewhere. 

You awkwardly make your way over to the group, juggling plates in hand. “Dinner is served,” you smile as you set them on the table. “Did anyone want a beer or a seltzer or anything like that?”

There are a few that chime in, ready for a drink. You oblige their requests with a smile. Dinner is nice, if a bit stilted as people try to find common ground to chat with you about. It all ends up leading back to Abbott, and you can’t find yourself complaining. It’s quite funny to hear the hi jinx that happen in an elementary school and all of the background things that happen out of sight of the kids. And then the topic shifts to the relationship that everybody has with Melissa. You find that Melissa is like a mother to Jacob, an aunt to Janine and in turn Gregory, close friends with Ava despite appearances at school, Mr. Johnson and her have some sort of ally between the two of them, and of course you already knew her and Barbara were like work wives.

Barbara just huffs at that sentiment before sighing. “I suppose I should be heading out.”

“But Barb!” Janine protests. “We haven’t even started setting off fireworks!”

“I got the good ones too,” the custodian cuts in. 

But the woman dead set on heading home holds up a hand to halt their protests against her leaving. “It is time that I leave.”

She says goodbye to everybody before turning to you and your girlfriend. “Thank you for inviting me over,” is all she says. And then she’s seeing herself out.

The rest of the fourth of July gathering is quite nice, and you find yourself quite glad that you were able to meet the people that Melissa constantly talks about during the school year.

Before you know it, the school year is right around the corner. Despite having been in the same classroom for the last several years, Melissa asks if you’ll accompany her down to the classroom to prepare for her incoming students. You wholeheartedly agree, knowing that a good deed on your part will end up in well… a good deed.

As the two of you are lugging in a few boxes of new supplies, Barbara pulls up. There is no hello, no ‘how are you’. Just a simple glance before she turns her nose up at the two of you and begins to unload her own car.

“Barb,” your girlfriend calls in the direction of the kindergarten teacher. There is no dignified response. “Jesus Christ.”

“Give her a few minutes,” you tell the redhead softly as you pull yet another box of supplies out of your car. “She’s probably just in a rush to get all of her things in here before she exchanges pleasantries.”

“No,” the second grade teacher huffs. “She’s still all pissy that I didn’t tell her about you. Hasn’t reached out since the cookout.”

You know that to be quite odd. When the two are on good terms, they speak quite frequently- last year over Summer break they had spoken almost everyday. 

You just nod before jogging over to Barbara’s car and politely asking you if she needed any assistance. She told you no. So you jogged back to your own car before picking up the same box that you had earlier and carrying it into the school.

The two of you make another trip, as does Barbara. Still, there are no words spoken between the two, and you can clearly see that it’s upsetting your girlfriend.

In the confines of her classroom, you close the door and perch yourself on Melissa’s desk. “Babe?”

“What?” she asks as she continues to staple the border around her bulletin board.

“You need to take a breath and maybe consider things from Barbara’s side,” you say quietly.

“So you’re on her side?” Green eyes whip around and land on you.

You slowly climb off of her desk and go to pull her in gently by the waist. You give her a sweet peck on the lips before whispering, “I just don’t like seeing the tension between you and your best friend.”

“I’m not even mad at her,” Melissa shrugs. “She’s mad at me.”

“I understand that,” you promise your girlfriend quietly. “But… imagine how you would feel if she started dating someone seriously, and you didn’t find out until they had been living together and dating for a year and a half.”

“I wouldn’t have to imagine that, because she’s been married to Gerald for thirty years, and the two of them are more in love than-”

“Mel,” you sigh quietly. “Just… put yourself in her shoes. Please.”

“I would… I would be pissed,” the teacher admits. “But I know that she wouldn’t like how our relationship started, and I know she was pissed when I ended things with Gary, and-”

“She stood by you through your divorce, she stood by you through your breakup with Gary; you’ve seen her through almost everything her and Gerald have been through. I can see why she’s hurt right now, hun.”

“I don’t,” your girlfriend huffs. “She knows I’m a more private person.”

“But you aren’t with her,” you reason. “Around her, you’re you. She knows every piece of you, even pieces I don’t know yet. I don’t think she’s mad at you- I think she’s hurt. This is just how she’s showing her hurt right now.”

“So what do you suppose I should do about it?” Melissa purses her lips. You can’t resist stealing a quick kiss.

“I think you should talk to her,” you advise. “I think you should apologize for not telling her once things got more serious between the two of us, and then I think you should invite her out for a dinner with just the two of you so you can chat and tell her more about us before suggesting a dinner with all three of us.”

“When did you get to be so wise?” your girlfriend asks you as she pulls you just the slightest bit closer to her.

“I’ve had some practice,” you chuckle softly. Then you pat her butt gently. “Go. Talk to her.”

Melissa bites her lip nervously before nodding. She heads out the door. You follow a few seconds later.

“I’m just going to stand outside the door out of sight in case the two of you need any mediation,” you tell her when she turns around and looks at you curiously.

She nods before continuing her journey down to the kindergarten wing. She knocks on the door in a rhythm that you know is only saved for her work wife.

“Melissa,” Barbara says, but there’s a bit of bite in her tone.

“Barb,” your girlfriend says quietly. “Can we… can we talk?”

“About?”

“I came down to apologize to you,” the redhead says softly as she steps into the room a bit further.

“For?” You can practically see the woman folding her arms across her chest and looking at Melissa as though she’s a student.

“For not tellin’ you about Y/N,” Melissa breathes. “For keeping her a secret from you, and then not being considerate of the feelings that you have. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just… nervous? I know that you’re a woman of faith with morals higher than I ever thought possible, and if it were to go up in flames with her, I didn’t want you to have to be there to pick up the pieces like you’ve done so many times before.”

“Melissa, if you thought I wouldn’t approve of the relationship you have with Y/N because she is also a woman, I would like to remind you that I adore Jacob like the son I never had,” the kindergarten teacher says evenly. “And we are best friends- I want to be there for you at the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. I do not care that you are dating a woman; I just want you to be happy. I wish you would have let me know earlier than you did. I thought we were closer than that.”

“We are,” your girlfriend says. “I messed up, Barb. An’ I’m sorry.”

“Well, thank you,” Barbara says quietly.

Melissa shifts where she stands. “How can I make it up to you? Dinner maybe? Just the two of us?”

You can hear the shift in tone between the two of them. Something changes. “I’d quite like that. I’ve missed you these past two months.”

You know it’s taking everything in Melissa to not make a comment about how she had reached out over the summer, but Barbara had not reciprocated. “I’ve missed you too,” you hear her say.

“And I better get to hear all about Y/N,” the kindergarten teacher chuckles. “She seems like a sweet girl, and she knows her way around a grill.”

“She’s… she’s really great, Barb,” you hear your girlfriend’s voice go soft- something she really only does when she’s talking about you. “She’s something special.”

“Well, I look forward to getting to know her,” Barbara chuckles. “And ooh, girl, do I have some things to tell you about what my girls got up to over the summer.”

“Over dinner? I’d be delighted, but right now Y/N is here helping me clean up my room for the upcoming year, and I’m sure she’d be more than happy to come help you too.”

And just like that, you know that everything just may be okay. Barbara and Melissa have made up, the kindergarten teacher herself said that you seem like a sweet girl, and now your girlfriend won’t be as much of a grump coming home from a hard day’s work today.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo

[feelinmatcha]

❛ 𝐏𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ❜

DESCRIPTION: you don't want to celebrate your birthday, but perhaps your friend(?) will change that NOTE: reader is implied to be an older sister. angst to fluff. age mention?? but you can easily take it out!! CHARACTER(S): modern! sanji & zoro 🎵: the last time by taylor swift ft. gary lightbody

You wished you could care more about it. Truly. But birthdays stopped being special a long time ago. And now they felt like something you'd outgrown, like a shirt that once fit and no longer did.

When Nami asked about it over breakfast, her voice so casual as she asked when you'd be celebrating, it was like the entire room froze around you. The others were watching, forks paused mid-air, and you felt yourself retreat inward, pulling your arms around yourself as if you could make yourself disappear. "It doesn’t matter," you mumbled, but you could feel the weight of their stares even after you said it.

You tried to remember when you stopped caring, tried to pinpoint the exact year birthdays turned hollow. Maybe it was the year your parents stopped lighting candles and making cakes, reserving that fuss for your younger siblings, who still had reason to smile as they counted the candles. Or maybe it was the year your stepsister—just a few months older—received a thoughtful gift and the whole family gathered around her, while you spent the better part of your own day staring at the phone, waiting for your mom to call. She finally did, hours later, voice muffled by kitchen sounds, explaining that she’d been busy with pastry orders and barely managed a quick “Happy Birthday.”

And you wanted to be okay with it. You really did. You told yourself she was doing her best, that she had her own life, her own dreams, that maybe it was selfish to want more.

But later that night, alone in your room, you finally picked up the phone and left her a voicemail, your voice thick and breaking. “Hey, Mom. I tried calling you earlier. Guess you’re busy right now. Just wanted to tell you… remember that test I was stressing about? I got an eighty-one. Not perfect, but it’s something.”

You stared at the screen for a long time after hanging up, waiting for the pang to settle. Twenty-one years old, but somehow you felt twice that. You wondered if birthdays would feel different if you’d already moved out, if you had your own house, your own kids. Maybe then she’d remember, maybe then she’d care.

The ache returned, and you swiped the back of your hand across your eyes, furious at yourself. Why couldn’t you be stronger? Why couldn’t you stop hoping?

Eventually, another year came around, and with it, the dreaded day. You were thankful Nami hadn’t brought it up again, not since that morning at breakfast. She must’ve seen the look in your eyes, the way your voice cracked just enough when you’d admitted you didn’t take pleasure in celebrating it anymore. She hadn’t pushed, and for that, you were grateful. For that, you felt a little less alone.

roronoa zoro

The kitchen lights buzzed to life, casting a warm glow over the counters stacked with groceries. A couple of tomatoes, three fresh baguettes, too many leafy greens for one person—all evidence of Sanji’s over-the-top attempt to “share” his food with Nami. You could almost hear him explaining it to her, claiming he’d bought too much for the week. But you knew better. You knew he’d counted on her taking it, on feeding her like she wouldn’t feed herself, and the thought made you grin, sifting through the bags with a growing smile.

“Eggplant, garlic, rosemary,” you muttered, almost impressed by how thoughtful it all was. Everything was fresh, carefully chosen, perfect for the recipes he’d probably rattled off to Nami before he left. But still, the faint lingering scent of his cologne—the one he seemed to think was charming but always hit your nose like a cloud of spiced ash—hung in the air.

You set a bottle of olive oil on the counter, catching your reflection in the glass. There was something about today, the weight of it pressing a little harder as you remembered it was your birthday. You hadn’t mentioned it, hadn’t wanted to, but it felt like the knowledge was there, lurking, like a reminder you were determined to ignore.

The door down the hall creaked open, followed by the soft thud of it closing and heavy footsteps coming closer. Zoro’s voice rang out, gruff and tinged with irritation, “I can smell Sanji’s disgusting perfume. Did he come here?”

Flipping on the kitchen light, you turned and stifled a grin as Zoro appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, his nose wrinkled in mock disgust. He looked every bit the part of the annoyed rival, his hair damp from training, shirt rumpled as he leaned against the frame, eyeing the bags on the counter with open disdain.

“Yeah, he was just here,” you said, glancing up as Zoro stepped into the light, his nose crinkling in mock disgust. “But I think he left enough rosemary in here to mask the smell. Unless you’re that sensitive?”

“Sensitive?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes as he leaned against the counter, arms crossing over his chest. “It’s just hard to breathe when that walking cologne cloud’s been around. How many tomatoes does he think Nami needs, anyway?”

You shrugged, picking up one of the tomatoes and tossing it his way. He caught it with a smirk. “Sanji just wants to make sure she's fed.”

“Please,” Zoro snorted, turning the tomato over in his hands before placing it back on the counter. “Does he really think Nami can’t feed herself? Or did he just want an excuse to show off?”

“You know him. Probably both,” you said, leaning back against the counter, a smile tugging at your lips as you watched him. Zoro’s presence filled the room in a way you couldn’t quite explain—steady, calm, a quiet sort of reassurance that reminded you there was no need to feel alone.

You found yourself letting out a sigh, the kind that comes when you’ve been carrying a weight around for too long. Zoro’s gaze flickered over you, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Something wrong?”

For a second, you thought about brushing it off. But the way Zoro looked at you—sharp but somehow softened by a quiet understanding—made it hard to lie. It was as if he could see through any mask you tried to put on.

“Just… thinking,” you murmured, glancing down at the bags Sanji had left behind. “Birthdays, you know? Nami brought it up the other year, and it kind of stirred things up.”

Zoro’s face shifted, his usual hardness melting away as he took you in, tilting his head a little. “Didn’t know it was your birthday,” he said quietly, his voice steady, free of pity or fuss.

“It wasn't... it's today, actually,” you admitted, the words feeling heavier than you’d expected. “It's fine, I just… stopped celebrating it a while back.”

He didn’t press, but his gaze was unwavering, his arms still folded as he leaned a little closer, his posture saying he was there, that he was listening.

“Why did you stop?” he asked finally, his tone calm, as if he were inviting you to share without any pressure.

You took a slow breath, the ache you’d been holding onto all day surfacing. “I guess… it just stopped feeling like my day,” you said, each word weighing you down a little more. “It was always about someone else, something else. Eventually, it felt easier to just… ignore it. Less disappointment that way.”

He didn’t break eye contact, his expression unreadable yet somehow gentle, as if he were waiting for you to finish, giving you room to feel everything out loud.

“Makes sense,” he said after a beat, his tone soft, thoughtful. “But… maybe you’re looking at it wrong.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the insight. “Oh yeah? How so?”

He shrugged, his gaze drifting briefly over the countertop before coming back to yours. “Maybe birthdays don’t have to be about other people making it special. Could just be about you doing something you actually want to do. Doesn’t have to be a party or some grand gesture. Could be as simple as sitting around eating these tomatoes if that’s what makes you happy.”

The simplicity of it caught you off guard. You’d thought of birthdays as a day that had to mean something because other people made it that way. But maybe Zoro was right. Maybe the day didn’t have to be a spectacle; maybe it could be quiet, even small, and still feel like yours.

“Maybe…” you murmured, feeling a small, tentative smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe today I’ll just take it easy, let myself have that. Not stress about what it’s supposed to be.”

Zoro’s lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile. “That’s the spirit.”

You both stood in comfortable silence, his steady presence taking up space in a way that felt grounding, safe. He glanced down at the bags Sanji had left, his smirk returning as he let out a soft chuckle.

“Now, let’s figure out what to make out of Sanji’s mountain of produce before it goes to waste. Who knows—could end up being the best ‘birthday dinner’ you’ve had in years,” he added with a teasing grin.

You laughed, the sound soft and light. And as you started unpacking the groceries, working side by side with Zoro, the day felt different, lighter. No big party, no expectations—just a quiet moment, one you could claim as your own.

black leg sanji

Sanji had been over at your apartment last night, like he often was on weekends. He’d practically taken over the kitchen, turning the small space into his own personal cooking studio, filling it with warmth and the scent of roasted herbs and spices. It was cozy, cramped, and packed with the kind of laughter that spilled out of the windows and into the autumn air outside. He’d left around midnight, making his usual theatrical exit, waving his hand with a smirk, promising he’d be back to “save you and Nami from culinary catastrophe” as he dramatically put it.

When you’d come back to the kitchen to grab some water, there it was on the counter: a small white envelope with your name written on it in his signature, neat handwriting. There was no address, no note outside, just your name.

You took the envelope to your room and opened it, heart skipping a beat as you unfolded the note.

“Hey, you,” it began, simple but with his effortless charm. “I didn’t want to say this with everyone around, but tomorrow’s your birthday, right? You probably won’t want to make a fuss, but I thought maybe I could do a little something to make it a day you’ll remember. Meet me at the coffee shop by the library at noon, if you’re up for it.”

When morning arrived, you found yourself a little more excited than you’d expected. Noon couldn’t come fast enough. You made your way to the small coffee shop tucked along the edge of campus, right beside the library, where trees were shedding leaves in a blanket of amber and red. The café itself was a quaint, narrow little place with warm brick walls, a black-and-white tiled floor, and wooden tables spread under strings of fairy lights. It had that cozy, old-world feel that made you want to curl up in one of its soft leather booths and lose track of time.

You found him immediately. Sanji was leaning against a table near the front window, gazing outside, lost in thought. The soft autumn light filtered through the glass, casting a warm glow over him, and when he turned, catching sight of you, a genuine smile broke across his face. He walked over, dressed in his usual dark button-down and black slacks, looking completely at ease despite the bustle of students around him.

“There you are,” he greeted you, his tone gentle as he took your hand, leading you to the table he’d reserved. His eyes flickered over you with a softness that made your heart race.

On the table sat a small, carefully frosted cake—something he’d clearly made himself. A single, delicate candle was nestled in the frosting, and beside it, a small bouquet of wildflowers sat in a mason jar, the bright petals adding a splash of color against the warm browns and reds of the café’s decor.

“It’s not much,” he said, scratching the back of his neck with a slightly sheepish smile, “but I thought you deserved something that was just for you. Hope you don’t mind me commandeering your birthday a little.”

You took a seat across from him, feeling the coziness of the café wrap around you, like a small world set apart just for this moment. There was something quietly magical about it all, something you hadn’t felt in a long time—an unexpected warmth that went straight to your heart.

Sanji cleared his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Close your eyes,” he said, a hint of that usual playfulness back in his tone. “I’ll light the candle.”

You closed your eyes, listening to the soft flick of his lighter and feeling the glow of warmth as he leaned in to light the candle. When you opened your eyes, he was watching you, a gentle smile on his face, his eyes reflecting the candle’s flickering light.

“Make a wish,” he murmured, voice low and intent.

The café faded away, the distant hum of conversation and clinking of cups disappearing as you focused on that single, flickering flame. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself, for the first time in a long time, to make a wish. And when you opened them, he was still there, watching you, as if he could read exactly what was in your heart.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered, his voice warm and sure, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You leaned forward, blowing out the candle, the quiet applause of the flame fading into the room’s ambient light. The scent of vanilla and warm frosting filled the air, mixing with the comforting smell of coffee and the rich, earthy tones of autumn that drifted in from the open window. You smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest you hadn’t realized you missed, a feeling of being seen, of being cherished, if only for a moment.

“Thank you, Sanji,” you murmured, unable to keep the gratefulness from your voice.

He smiled, his fingers brushing yours across the table, his touch light but reassuring. “It’s nothing. Besides, you have a lot of birthdays to make up for.”

[dappersautismcreature]

this is gonna be so sappy forgive me lmao

i have been alone on christmas before, ive been stuck at home while my mom was away with my sister, my dad was recovering from surgery, my dog was too, and just imagining how id sob if i had the community i have now to support me through that.

the qsmp team recognizing that and putting together a fun, funny, sweet, calming, gathering place stream is one of the sweetest things ive seen. i know if im ever alone on christmas, or ever feeling alone in general, i know i at least have this community to turn to. and that sweet vod to watch.

ive never been great at interacting online, its always seemed like a colder way of communicating to me, I struggle with it. but the people on here, you guys are full of warmth and genius ideas and are genuinely hilarious. every single one of you <3 its been a pleasure to post about qsmp with you guys for like, nine months.

due to a lot of weirdness surrounding friendships at the start of this year, with a few friends just totally ditching me, ive really needed to feel somewhat safe with people I interact with. thank you for being so kind and awesome, i feel safe in this space, lmao.

every single one of you, that celebrates christmas, i wish you the happiest of holidays. and if its not great, if its loud and scary and stressful and whatever, a bit of gary advice from someone who's been there, a day is a day, you can create the feeling whenever. do not hold joy to one day. holidays, even if nothing bad happens, can still be stressful, but that isn't eternal.

happy christmas, all that junk

[pochiperpe90]

[Eng] Elle Italia - Daily Venezia: THE HISTORY IS US

Luca Marinelli is almost unrecognizable in the role of Mussolini in the series M. Son of the Century, directed by Joe Wright. Two greats together to tell one of the darkest and most criminal periods in History

Personal opinion: M. Son of the Century is one of the masterpieces of the 2024 Mostra. It's a shame it can't win, because it's a TV series, even if its director continues to call it a film. A seven-hour long film, which will be released in eight episodes on Sky and Now in the early months of 2025. It’s produced by Sky Studios and Lorenzo Mieli for The Apartment, a Fremantle group company, based on the novel by Antonio Scurati, written by Stefano Bises and Davide Serino. The director is Joe Wright, the protagonist is Luca Marinelli. It tells with historical accuracy the rise of Mussolini and our country's surrender to dictatorship.

Sensitive material, it reminds us that we invented fascism, and perhaps a foreign director, let's say, could have approached it with greater detachment, without our sense of guilt.  Wright looks at me almost with pity, in a good way: “But I share that sense of guilt, I reject national borders, there are no nations: the similarities between us human beings are more than the differences, I feel as responsible as you Italians…I was very careful to tell the truth without being didactic, I tried to understand without sympathizing, maintaining a critical distance... Mussolini was fascinating, he seduced a nation and many others. If I hadn't shown that charm then people might have thought that Italians were all idiots. That balance was my main concern... On a more personal level it's a series about toxic masculinity, which is like nothing else in us, we have it inside us. We have to understand our responsibilities and turn our backs on them, so as not to end up morally bankrupt".

Every day it took Marinelli two hours of makeup and hair to get into Mussolini's shoes. "It was something I brought home with me," the actor confesses, "in the same shape as on the set: the 22 kilos I had gained, my hair cut as you see it in the scenes.  The black lenses. were the things I could leave in the makeup van. Working with all the different departments was fascinating”.

It must not have been easy for him to shoot so convincingly in the fascist salute: “These are filthy and brutal things that the role required of me, but of course there is a big difference between what is considered right and what the role requires. I certainly did not take pleasure in carrying out certain actions or even in expressing myself in that way, but rather the opposite. What I had to face during the production of the project, as a convinced anti-fascist that I am, really cost me a lot. I did not come out of it intact”. But he was in the hands of an excellent director, a master in the cinematic transpositions of great books (Anna Karenina, Atonement, Pride and Prejudice).  How does he approach them? "The film," Wright continues, "is what happens in my head while I read the book. I'm dyslexic and so when I read I think I see beyond the words, I create the scenes and I edit, zooming in on small details that interest me. M. is a mash up between Scarface, Man with a Movie Camera and 90s rave culture." Tom Rowlands' techno music creates the right atmosphere: "I didn't want anything classic, kids have to see it too, they have to understand the roots of fascism." Luca Marinelli is monumental in the role of the "duce." "He's one of the greatest actors in the world, along with Gary Oldman. But, like Gary Oldman, he doesn't know it."

[what-even-is-thiss]

i've been reading some of your arguments for why you wouldn't be vegan and just wanted to point out that you have a lot of fallacy in your arguments. might want to do a look in there to make sure you are stating your morals/prose properly, and aren't using any arguments that can be easy to shutdown. appeal to tradition. appeal to futility and the argument that personal pleasure(taste etc) allows us to do what we want to others without consent to their bodies is a moral issue i don't think you align with but i could be mistaken. a lot of people who enjoy sex don't rape for example.

i also liked the taste of animal flesh and organs but realized my personal pleasure i got from consuming them pales when it is placed against the value of someone's life and what they have to endure for me to get that on my plate, it's easy to have a disconnect when you don't know. health, animals, earth all benefit from a plant based diet. a plant based diet can feed more people for cheaper, helping to end hunger.

you can say you cook "more vegetarian" but i implore you to continue your growth and align your actions with your morals and continue to strive for a plant based diet in the future. you don't seem like a cruel person but i could be wrong. i've been vegan for 15 years and i cook so many amazing meals and can tell you from experience you don't have to limit yourself to oatmeal. if you have time to watch/listen id implore you to check out gary yourofsky "the most important speech you will ever hear"

good luck to you on aligning your moral values with the actions you take daily/what you pay for.

Okay. Do you say these same things to vegans that wear cotton? That also kills a lot of animals. Like a lot of them. It hurts entire ecosystems.

There’s no way to buy stuff in our current economy that doesn’t hurt somebody or something. I know how to cook tasty and cheap and mostly healthy meals for myself and the easiest way to do that is with pre-cut veggies, eggs, and the occasional poultry.

Yeah I’m wasting plastic. Yeah I’m eating animals. Vegans eat almonds and quinoa. Those are bad farmed at an industrial scale.

Being an omnivore is natural and I don’t feel bad about it. If you look me in the eyes and ask me if I could kill a chicken the answer is yes. I’ve done extensive research on how to do it safely, actually. If the apocalypse comes I’m raising hens for meat.

Also comparing animal agriculture to rape? Couldn’t find literally anything else to compare it to? Really?

[mactavishenjoyer]

Okay I need a Ghostroach au fanfic where after 09'Ghost gets shot he wakes up as 22' Ghost. (Still not a writer so sorry if it's bad)

He didn't have the pleasure of being thrown into another body while it was asleep like in the movies. He awoke into this world in the middle of a battle. Does it truly even count as another body if it's still him? That's unimportant he just has to finish this fight. It's unimportant what it's for. He just has to survive it. "L.T. what the fuck are you doing?" A familiar voice said, pulling Ghost behind a wall for cover. This man sure looked like the captain just shorter and without an eye scar. Ghost came a little bit more aware of his surroundings...well he actually became aware that Roach wasn't with them "Where's Roach?" Ghost said hoping that he imagined him getting shot. Please let that have been all in his head. "Who?" Soap responded with a look of confusion.

It had been weeks since Ghost had woken up in the world. Weeks of searching for Roach. He never joined 141 which means he has to be still out there or he died before he even got the chance. Ghost tried shaking the thoughts out his head. Roach had to still be alive, he was Roach after all. He sat across Price, his heart racing. "I couldn't find a Sergeant Gary "Roach" Sanderson." As those words left prices's mouth Ghost felt his heart sink, maybe Roach never existed here. Would that be better? He would have never had to go through all the pain he did before but Ghost deep in his heart was selfish, he wanted to hold Roach. "But I did find a Gary Sanderson" price slid over the files in his hand "According to our records he was dishonorably discharged from the military. So are you going to tell me what this is about?"

"Unimportant to any mission, sir."

"that wasn't what I asked."

"He's someone important to Simon Riley. I need to make sure he's safe."

Everything felt like a blur after that. All Ghost could focus on was the fact Gary was alive. Price gave Ghost his address and within the same week Ghost was standing outside his door. His heart was racing as he waited for someone to answer the door. After seconds that felt like minutes someone did. Gary had all the same scars....every single one his had. "Oh, I wasn't expecting a visit from the grim reaper! May I help you?" Gary's laugh even sounded the same. "Gary I-" ghost thoughts were cut off by the sight of a little girl hugging Gary's leg, She had Gary's eyes,"You have a daughter?". Gary turned to his little girl, telling her to go play upstairs. She ran off and Gary turned back to Ghost

"You are standing like a military douche. What the fuck do you want?"

"to talk."

"oh, really? Someone that comes to talk comes with a gun? You know you assholes won't fucking leave me alone. I haven't said shit about what happened so go tell general s-" Gary's rant was cut off by Ghost kissing him. Ghost slammed the door shut as his mask fell to the floor. "Simon?" Gary said, stomach turning as if seeing a ghost"I thought you where fucking dead.".

They sat in Gary's living room, drinking tea. "Why didn't you fucking tell me you where alive?" Gary looked as if he was fighting back tears "I got told in a fucking hallway at 20 that the love of my fucking life was murdered with his family.". "I'm sorry " was all ghost could muster to say, knowing that the truth was unbelievable. But wasn't that what Gary was upset at? That Ghost never told the truth? "It's been 10 fucking years, Simon. A sorry isn't going to fucking cut it.". Ghost felt as if he was choking "who did you have a kid with?" Ghost said trying to ignore that he can't truly apologize for what he did to this Gary because it wasn't him that did it. "...just like you... never liked the attention being on you, huh?" Gary's voice was softer now "After I thought you died, I threw myself at anyone who would have me to try to distract myself. I thought it was easier....until I got a Superior's wife pregnant. I didn't know she was married. I got dishonorably discharged. Beaten almost to death and then paid to keep quiet about it. Riley thinks her mom is dead. You know .... since lying about people being dead always makes things easier." Ghost would roll his eyes at that last sentence if it wasn't for the realization that Gary named his daughter Riley. "Her name's Riley?" Ghost felt emotions he didn't think he was capable of feeling anymore.

"Yes, named after my dead boyfriend who's sitting in my living room....why are you here?"

"because I love you."

Or something like that. This is long enough and I'm not a writer so idk how to end it. Especially since the angst In me wants to trick y'all into thinking everything is going to be happy just to kill roach.

Part 2 of the idea

[yisony07]

That man had been doing exercises when he caught the attention of Alan, a ghost who used to visit the park to see which handsome man he could take advantage of and, upon seeing Danny, in his black suit, Gary knew he had hit the jackpot, so he followed him immediately. He was already able to taste his new acquisition, with that sweat on top of Danny’s body, his enormous and strengthened muscles and the shaft that was surely hidden in his pants.

When they arrived at Danny's apartment, Gary acted immediately. Upon reaching the bedroom, the ghost caused Danny to fall fully onto the bed. Having Danny’s ass in front of him, Gary entered fully.

"What?!" Danny could barely scream at the intrusion. He felt something cold and somewhat sticky enter him through his hole. He turned to see what it was and, seeing a ghost, he screamed and tried to grab it to pull it out, but to no avail. In a matter of seconds, Alan was fully inside.

Danny didn't know what to do, because he was desperate. However, the sensation of the ghost moving inside him felt strangely comfortable, to the point of being pleasurable, like a small chill spreading into the warmth of his core. Little by little Danny felt how the sensation of his body, his arms, legs, torso... was replaced by an unmatched sexual pleasure, as if the only thing he wanted to do was ejaculate without stopping. Within seconds, he cummed and closed his eyes, falling motionless onto the bed.

A few minutes later, 'Danny' woke up and got up. However, he wasn't the same Danny as before.

"I thought you'd put up more of a fight, but you gave up easily... that's how I like it," he said, followed by a chuckle. "Fuck... this is much better than I thought. You'll see that you will be the life of the party..." he added and, with barely changing a few clothes, but without bathing at all, he left the house again, ready to go to a gay bar.

[youredyingthatsallthereis]

kinktober day 19: overstimulation

a continuation of day 14 (toys) because >:3c

additional tags: soapghostroach, ball gag, vibrator, trans ghost, trans roach w meta, cis soap, pre negotiated kink, forced orgasm, face sitting, pussy eating, blow jobs, anal sex, cumming inside and fucking it deeper, squirting

read on AO3 | nonsenseafterdark's prompt list! | word count: 1205

"pretty little arse really was just made to be stuffed, wasn't it, love?"

roach was lying with his head in ghost's lap while soap fucked his arse, bullying into him hard while ghost kept the vibrator on his swollen, red cock.

he could barely even think by now. he'd totally lost track of how many times he'd gotten off, cheeks streaked with drool and tears around the gag, red with how hard he was breathing, eyes half lidded at the burning, overwhelming continued pleasuring he was getting.

soap was taking his time on him, too, fucking him hard but clearly in no hurry to cum, happy to bully roach's needy hole to his own hearts content.

"what do you think, bug, better than any of your dildos or plugs?" ghost asked. "nice to have a big thick cock in there instead?"

roach's eyebrows contracted and he moaned weakly around the gag; ghost took one of his hands and brought it up to give him a soft kiss on the knuckles.

"feels good to be a toy for us, hm? lovely little doll for us to play with," soap purred, pushing roach's legs back so he could get in deeper. "you wanna cum on my dick again? go on, wanna feel you squeezin' me tight again, know you got another in you, come on love."

roach whined and squeezed ghost's hand while the lieutenant started working the vibrator harder on him, stimulating his painfullly sensitive, raw cock to the point it hurt but god did it hurt so good, roach could feel ghost about to wring yet another orgasm out of him, electrifying bolts of pleasure-pain making him clench on soap until he was crying out around the gag again, sobbing at the ruthless stimulation from the vibrator and soap absolutely pounding into him now.

"aren't you a sight," ghost breathed, running the fingers of his free hand delicately through roach's hair without moving the vibrator off his dick. "so pretty when youre drooling and crying and completely cock drunk."

"let's take the gag out now, si, he's earned it," soap said, shoving his cock all the way in and keeping it here to grind up against his sergeant's arse. "wanna hear him when im cummin' inside him."

ghost finally took the vibrator off of roach's dick, making him let out another sob of relief at a break from the overstimulation, switching it off and setting it down so he could carefully undo the gag, pulling it gently out of roach's mouth.

the sergeant inhaled hard with his mouth newly freed up, sobs infinitely louder when soap started railing him again.

the volume clearly went straight to soaps cock. "damn fuckin' right, i wanna hear you good and loud, gary, fuck yes," he said, clearly relishing that he was going at roach so hard that his head was bouncing lightly off of ghost.

"gonna cum inside and then plug you up to keep it there, yeah baby? is that was you want?"

roach managed a small nod, weakly bringing a hand up to his chest.

please, he signed.

soap took that as a license to go after his pleasure with no rhythm or finesse, just purely self-indulgent fucking and fucking and fucking to get himself off until he slammed into roach one last time, cumming hard while he kept the sergeant's hips in a vice grip.

"make sure it stays good - and deep - in - there," soap said, giving him a few last thrusts to make sure all of him stayed inside.

"how you feeling, bug?" ghost said, petting his cheek while roach gasped for breath, shivering as soap pulled out and started to put the plug back in his arse. it was the one he'd been wearing when soap had first caught him, with the jewel in the base, one he knew soap loved looking at and playing with.

roach nodded. really, really good, he signed.

"pleasure drunk little puppy," ghost cooed, smoothing his damp, sweaty hair back off his forehead. "you still want me to sit on your face, or you too tired?"

roach was about to nod when suddenly he felt soaps tongue drag up his cock; he almost jumped off the bed at how strong the sensation was from being so hypersensitive.

"can i?" soap said. "you know how irresistible you look with your arse plugged up like that."

roach managed to nod; fuck he knew it was too much, he knew he was being too greedy for it but he didn't care, he'd let soap and ghost torture his cock and arse forever if they wanted to -

his thoughts were interrupted by soap's mouth back on his cock, soft but firm enough that roach could barely keep his eyes open, the sensitivity was way too much but he wanted it, needed it -

and then he felt ghost lie his head down on the bed and put a gentle thumb on his chin to pry his mouth open. roach obediently let his tongue fall out to prompt ghost to sit down; even if he couldn't do much more than let ghost ride his face he would do it; do anything to make his superiors happy.

he moaned into ghost's cunt, licking up towards his arsehole while soap sucked him off, licking over his balls towards where his own spend was being held in by the toy.

roach gave a full body shiver again at the sensation, the knowledge that even after cumming inside him and fucking it deeper soap still wanted him in his mouth.

it felt like his cock was being electrocuted when soap took it back in his mouth, sucking like there was nothing else in the world he'd rather do, and his thighs squeezed tight around his captains head when he dragged his tongue up over the tip and shoved roach back over the edge one last time.

roach almost screamed into ghost's pussy, death gripping his thighs while ghost rutted on his tongue, slick and delicious and making roach wonder what on earth he had done to deserve to feel this good.

soap gave the tip of his dick a final little kiss before moving up to straddle roach's torso, getting himself to eye level with ghost.

"ride his face, love, cum nice and cute for us, wanna see your face when that pretty pussy creams in his mouth - "

roach was so limp and relaxed from so many orgasms that he just sighed contentedly when ghost squirted into his mouth, drinking it all in happily. he barely registered what soap and ghost were saying to each other; he felt his hands being carefully pried off of ghost's thighs so that ghost could move off his face, and when he blinked back to reality he saw them both looking down at him, smiling sweetly.

"there he is," ghost said, giving him a kiss on the forehead. "you feeling all right, love?"

roach nodded and felt soap take one of his hands. "you did so good for us, gary," he said lovingly. "gonna get you all cleaned up and taken care of, okay? you just rest here."

roach hummed in agreement, closing his eyes again when soap kissed his cheek. yes sir.

[bloodsadx]

thanks to everyone who has sent me asks and such saying i understand how to draw for being nice and stuff. i'm going to ramble about some influence/process stuff below if you want to read abt it

this might read as some kind of artistic statement or defense or something but i like to talk about this kind of thing just in case anybody can ever get anything meaningful out of my own thoughts and practices. i got to where i am after a lot of careful consideration and spending time thinking about what i like in other people's art, just like anybody else that makes art to any serious degree.

my "style" is very much a deliberate series of decisions that i have honed into being very fast for my own pleasure and enjoyment because i am very inspired by people like king terry/garo magazine/the heta-uma style, keiichi arawi, inio asano, hiroyuki imaishi, toru nakayama, phil elverum (as a cartoonist), gary panter (who was a friend of matt groening and wrote an essay about selling out that is worth reading and did a lot of stuff with RAW magazine which is one of my favorite things to think about), DIY/skatewear brand t shirt cartoons, early MSPA hussie stuff, etc. a lot of my favorite artists walk a line between constant high effort and low time investment art; often contrasting elaborately planned perspective grids or high resolution rendering with simple cartooning. asano and arawi i think are very clear and famous examples of artists that use 3d rendering and photography for backgrounds while drawing very deliberate and expressive characters on top of them. toru nakayama is really inspiring to me because he, like toriyama, has a very deep understanding of form AND cartooning and has a way of making extremely densely crafted cartoons which feel visceral and almost like plastic toys you can pick up and play with on the page. also just one of my favorite colorists. and i think hussie and arawi and imaishi are all fantastic character designers with very strong understandings of designing art styles that convey information very quickly and deliberately; i think bryan lee omalley and jamie hewlett were also big early influences on me for the same thing- they all have art styles with very clear line/negative space proportions, strong shape language, etc, and for a long time in my life i have sought to grasp a similar understanding of these things. and then i think phil elverum's fancy people adventures cartoons and just like skate brands and "shitty" DIY drawings and stuff (the album art for nana grizol's love it love it is like burned into my brain forever; seeing basquiat paintings and poems in a museum when i was 15 made me feel whatever and crazy and etc) are just something that serve as a constant reminder to me that some of the most effective art is art that is simply fun to look at, especially when it comes to making comic and cartoon art. simplicity and joie de vivre are very important to me as artistic concepts.

and i mean, i do fuck with crazy painter dudes and shit too; i was huge into goya when i was 14 and had a print of the witches sabbath taped to my wall until i was like 22, i fw waterhouse & bruegel the elder insanely. i am like a sponge for most kinds of art and i do a lot of art research all the time. most of my first book was heavily influenced by compositional techniques from pre-raphaelite painters and the iconography of egyptian & greek wall art and especially especially extremely crowded gothic art and the concept of horror vacui.

but anyway, im not really insecure about my art, i know how much effort and time and practice and research i've put in, i definitely know my strengths regarding cartooning and stuff, and i'm even more aware of where my work needs "improvement" in order to be "commercially viable." i've been in multiple positions in the past several years of taking art seriously where other people have been dismissive of my art and i've seen other people fail to capture the energy & simplicity that i am able to get in my own art, etc.

for people interested in my Process and the things that i work on to draw the way that i do, the way i have gotten whatever skills i have has been mostly through drawing the same things over and over and over (toenail, cavity, pimple, gunk, making different expressions and doing different poses); i draw in pen MOST of the time, and i have for a very long time, and i make few edits, and i focus on keeping energy and confidence in my lines; i do perspective studies, i've spent a lot of time doing gesture drawings and environmental studies inside and outside. i draw a lot of movie frames and do color studies of youtube videos and stuff like that. i remember reading some kind of criticism of post-KAWS/street art infiltration of commercial art that artists now are most rewarded for drawing literally the same thing over and over and over like their hands are printers and that the main thing artists are then allowed to do within that context is express themselves through minor variations within that key theme; i don't think im THAT rote but it has definitely informed my perpsective on what i do and what i am interested in doing. on some level i have designed my art to be easily reproducible by myself because i want to make comics and sometimes even to animate my characters and that requires me to be able to draw a lot of drawings relatively quickly. this is another reason why character designers and video game key artists are such massive influences on me, takehito harada and akiman and toshiyuki kusakihara being some huge ones i've spent a lot of time doing studies of i didn't mention previously.

and because the main way i make money at this point in my life is through screen printing & reproducing my drawings as items for sale, i spend a lot of time making my art Distinct, Eye Catching, and Iconic, to the degree of instant recognizability even on a t shirt or a sticker from far away, and i try to make my drawings strictly legible and generally focus on communicating ideas and emotions through big thematic and emotional gestures and strong colors that can be easily separated. this is one of the main reasons i havent developed as strong of a rendering/coloring habit; that kind of stuff is difficult to color separate for the purpose of solo DIY screen printing. but i've spent a pretty decent amount of time doing that stuff, and i spend time studying forms regardless, with the lines that i do use. a lot of my sketchbooks are me drawing literally the same thing over and over slightly differently until i have something that i feel is a strong enough cartoon to make into a shirt or patch or sticker design that satisfies a litany of criteria i have for what i consider strong cartooning.

anyway that was a very rambling post but i hope at least people get something out of it even if its just slight entertainment from me blowing hot air out of my mouth for 20 minutes.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Gary and John head cannons x an overly chill high ranking demon lord.

Garry doesn't know how he summoned the reader, but is instantly feeling "on a scale from one to ten, my friend, you're fucked!"

The reader is of a drastically higher rank in hell, and the only reason why they were summoned was cause "why not?"

Gary cannot bring himself to boss around the reader cause he thinks he'll get killed, or worse, turned into the reader's personal play thing, but na. Reader was bored, and likes giving demons of lesser power severe anxiety.

When reader meets John, they're barely effected by the cross, and only slightly annoyed by the pain of the exorcism. Beyond telling him to scram, reader doesn't even attack. They're just glad to be out of hell, chilling.

Gary Miller

He was getting frustrated with John vanquishing so many demons

So he pulls out all the stops, sacrificing a thrall or two (or ten) to bring about a stronger demon to further weaken his faith.

However, Gary accidentally summons one who's a bit TOO powerful for the cult to contain: you, a demon overlord leagues above his rank.

"Astaroth, what a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Suddenly he feels like he made a huge mistake considering your reputation in Hell.

Your power easily surpassed his own, and he fears what you'd do if he explained why he called upon you..or found out that he never intended to do that at all.

The worst case scenario? You killed him and decide to rule the EOSD as your own cult.

An even worse scenario? He became your "pet" and you force him to watch you take over his mission.

Either one is horrible, so he tries making up an excuse to justify the ritual.

"Your Wickedness, there is a man..a holy man who stands in the way of our great plan. His faith is in shambles, but he is persistent and-"

"So you thought wasting my time was the best course of action?" You huff, tapping your foot. "Huh, and I was starting to like you, too...but now you just sound pitiful and desperate. You couldn't kill this one man yourself?"

He kneels, hands raised to you in a show of complete submission, completely terrified. "No, we can easily handle him, I...I just thought you would like to partake in the Profane Sabbath after we DO kill him and-"

"Woah, slow down there, Azzy...no need to look so petrified." You laugh gently, which confuses him. "Not many have been able to replicate my summoning ritual as well as you did...so well done. I needed the vacation from Hell, anyways. Now rise."

He gets up, wondering why you did a total 180.....until he remembers you just got power-trips from time to time.

You always liked to playfully threaten lesser demons out of pure boredom, but never actually acted on those threats.

So to realize you fooled him, too, left Gary extremely humbled.

Still, he's willing to whatever you say and he won't give you orders.

And he sure as hell will make sure no cult member tries bossing you around (even though you won't kill any of them).

John Ward

You showed up one night while he's wandering the forest, reminiscing over his failures to save Amy and what he could have done differently that night....

And you put the fear of fucking satan into this poor man just by standing near a tree, not even doing anything.

Even so, he freaks out upon recognizing you as a demonic overlord, holding up his cross with two shaking hands.

He didn't know why the lord was testing him so much..he had absolutely 0 strength to combat a demon of your status. But still, he tries exorcising you.

"Father, you should know that it only feels like a small itch to me."

"....wh-what?"

"Yes, we'll be here all day if you keep doing that-"

"Then I will stand here all day if I must!" He shouts despite the tremble in his voice, refusing to put down that silly stick as if it's gonna suddenly become golden again.

But it's still copper, barely inflicting any pain on you.

'And Astaroth says this is the man who's disrupting his mission?'

"I will not surrender. My faith is not weak!"

"You're right, it's not. But my tough skin cannot be easily penetrated by exorcisms. If anything, you're only annoying me more. So it would be wise to stop doing that."

Surprisingly, John listens after careful consideration, exhausted and almost in tears. He thought you were going to kill him or punish him for trying something as stupid as challenging an overlord.

Maybe you were sent to him as punishment for-

"All I ask of you, John Ward, is that you leave me be. I was just admiring the Earth's forests." You pat a tree trunk. "I suppose God did a few things right. Hate to see these beauties wither away into nothingness.."

Although he's shellshocked that you, a demon, would spare his life, he's quick to scurry back to his sedan.

He hasn't seen you since, and he thanks whoever intervened from above that he got away from you.

[kirain]

your gale takes actually got me to look deeper into forgotten realms lore (esp where it pertains to the afterlife) and long story short i’m at least a little bit fixated on it now and also will go to bat for that wizard basically at any point. also wild magic. i’ve been reading so much about wild magic, it’s so so interesting. esp wild magic sourced from the far realm and the implications that could have for a wild magic mage in esp the bg3 setting

Thank you, I'm so glad to hear that! I'm still learning about the lore myself (there's so much), and we should all be thanking Larian for introducing so many new people to D&D!

Wild magic is insane, and I had a great time using it with my sorcerer. The magic system in general is truly fascinating, as is its history in context of the game. It's just too bad it's linked to a god. I think I've said this before, but an irksome detail about Mystra is that she technically isn't a "bad" god, but she should definitely keep her fingers to herself. Every iteration has done objectively horrible things to mortals, but because she's written by a man who clearly favours her (in my humble opinion) nothing she does is presented as wrong. 😒

These asks actually reminds me of a conversation I had with a friend of mine. He basically said, "Elminster is on Mystra's side and he cares about Gale, so obviously Mystra is right." But here's the thing:

Not only is Eliminster a really annoying self-insert made by Ed Greenwood, the creator of the Forgotten Realms (and I mean that literally, he's admitted he's a self-insert), but Eliminster has also had ... "relations" with his surrogate daughter. He's betrayed his friends for Mystra. He's killed arguably innocent people. So you'll have to forgive me if I don't look to him for moral guidance. He also slept with the previous iterations of Mystra and blindly follows her commands, so he might just be a teensy bit biased. In fact, if you look at various forums, you'll see a lot of players complaining about the character's irritating Gary Stu status, and that Dungeon Masters hate putting him in their campaigns.

Elminster will never question Mystra, because in his mind she's a perfect being who deserves everything, including people's lives; ignoring the fact that pretty much every god in D&D is canonically flawed. He's the type of person who would tell a grieving parent that God took their recently deceased child for "reasons we cannot comprehend".

He says he took no pleasure in burdening Gale with her ultimatum, but let's be real—he wasn't that hurt by it. In fact, the Elminster we meet in game isn't even real. It's a snow clone. He couldn't be bothered to visit Gale, who he apparently respects and cares about, in person. The only time he shows any genuine emotion towards Gale is in the ascended epilogue, when he writes him a disappointed letter. And I wouldn't be surprised if that disappointment is more about him challenging Mystra than actually achieving godhood.

Though it should be said that Elminster is also a victim of Mystra. The iteration before Midnight (current Mystra) groomed and abused him for a millenia, yet for some reason we, the audience, are supposed to pretend there's nothing wrong with that. If anything, we're supposed to view it as "sexy". As if Gale and Elminster are "lucky" to have caught her attention.

Reading up on the lore surrounding these two is truly horrifying. Elminster is old enough now that his actions are informed and unforgivable. He helps Mystra groom boys to exploit and never questions her. He's not merely complacent, he's active in her ploys. Despite his numerous heroic feats, I personally can't overlook it, especially when he could have been Gale's biggest defender.

[roeroe-world]

the quiet girl. (a different world)

starring: normani kordei as effie woods, gary dourdan as shazza zulu

set in 1992.

warning: detailed smut, use of profanity

Effie stayed to herself during most of her time at Hillman College. She happened to be the pretty, quiet girl whom minded her business. Always dressed to the nines, rarely ever in sweats and if so she styled them perfectly. Many guys would hit on her yet she turned them down, not seeming to be interested in anybody attending Hillman.

Money definitely ran in the family due to the designer items she would often sport. Her hair and nails were always done. She gave off high class, high maintenance and if you wanted to talk to her… you needed to come correct.

Her aura and mystique nature caught the attention of one particular man. She wasn’t exactly his type but something about her left him enthralled, curious. He thought she was one of the most beautiful women on this campus.

From the way she carried herself, the stride of her walk, it was a clear indication that she took care of herself.

The young woman possessed gorgeous glowing dark skin that left him mesmerized. His intense gaze would follow her wherever she would go, trying to figure out the perfect time to speak to her. Honestly, she made him a little nervous which was a first. No woman possessed the power of making him nervous. Not even Freddie.

Though, finally, today, he built the courage to approach her. “Hey, I’m Shazza. Shazza Zulu.” His sultry low gaze remaining amongst her captivating beauty while he introduced himself, holding out a hand for her to shake it.

Her doe brown eyes glancing up from her textbook to meet his low pair, noticing him piercing a hole into her being. It creeped her out a bit but she excused his actions considering the fact that he’s a very attractive man. She found his deep voice alluring.

“Effie, Effie Woods.” Her tone is soft, exuding grace. “Pleasure meeting you.” The feeling of her palm against his makes him smirk.

“The pleasure’s all mine.” Their hands disconnected moments after. “I’ve been seeing you around campus for awhile now and today I decided why not come over here to speak after all this time.” Truthfully, it had been months.

Analyzing his attire, she nods not really possessing much to say. All she knows is that he’s fine but she didn’t like his get up. He dressed pretty strange. From his attire and dreads she might’ve guessed he was a hippie. He was different, she liked that.

“I was wondering if I could take you out…?” His light green eyes scanning her frame, landing on her exposed cleavage before falling upon her red stained plump lips then her swirling brown irises.

Effie nearly shivered at his actions, feeling herself grow hot. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Of course.” She replies, a grin etched across her glowing canvas, pulling out a piece of paper to jot her number down before handing it to him, standing to her feet. “Call me.” Looking the male up and down once more, Effie struts off into the opposite direction.

She left his head turning, watching the woman as she walked off. “Mm..” He grunts, enjoying the view. The moment she’s no longer in his peripheral, a grin creeps upon his facial features at the piece of paper in his hand.

Little did they know, Ron had been watching the pair the entire time with his jaw agape. The conversation was brief but he was close enough to hear everything. He observed Effie, noticing how she maintained her undivided attention on Shazza. Ron had been trying to spit game at Effie for the longest yet she turned him down every time. She wouldn’t even look at him for longer than thirty seconds.

Though, all it took was for Shazza to introduce himself and ask her out for the young woman to give up her number in an instant.

“Yo, man…” He began, waltzing in Shazza’s direction in pure shock. “I’ve been trying to get with that for the longest.” Shazza remains silent, his naturally low green eyes focusing on Ron. “How’d you do it?”

Deeply chuckling, Shazza slowly stands to his feet, preparing to walk away. “First I would stop referring to her as ‘that’. She isn’t an object.” Before Ron could respond, he saunters past him smoothly.

Looking dumbfounded, Ron glances around in slight embarrassment before kissing his teeth. “She isn’t an object.” He mocks the male, attempting to imitate his baritone and waltzing off.

————

Weeks flew by and sparks were flying, Shazza and Effie found themselves going on more dates after their eventful first one. At first, she feared he wouldn’t be her cup of tea but she had nothing to fear. They both equally enjoyed one another’s company. Even when they weren’t on dates, they would just hang out.

His perspective on life intrigued her. Truly, everything about Shazza intrigued Effie. They possessed completely two different backgrounds yet that’s one of the reasons why they were so close.

Hanging out with him changed her for the better. She became more social and not only just social, more open-minded. He broadened her world, helping her to see things for more than what they were. He was different than any other man she was ever romantically involved with.

Financially, he isn’t wealthy. But he was rich in spirit and soul. He wasn’t a snob. That’s all that mattered.

“What is this place?” Observing the grass and a nearby pond, her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. It seems as if he’d brought her to a forest of some sort. The sky began to grow dark. Plus, she isn’t much of a fan of nature. The bugs, the mud, wasn’t exactly her cup of tea.

“My spot.” He disconnects their hands to saunter backward while holding out his arms with a grin. “Surprise.” His grin hadn’t fallen even after seeing the look on her face.

“Do you not see what I’m wearing?”

The young woman happened to be dressed in a designer outfit as per usual. Though, it was pretty much loungewear, it still cost a grip.

“My outfit is gonna get dirty out here.” She whines earning a deep chuckle.

“Can’t be afraid to get dirty every now and then, Effie.”

Shazza began to walk ahead of the beauty, leading her further into the grassy area. She fights her smile at his multilayered response, mindlessly following him.

It wouldn’t be long before the pair were seated on the grass, watching the pond as the two would take turns tossing nearby rocks into the body of water. “Do you think there’s anything in there?” He shrugs before observing the woman taking off her shoes and boldly sitting her bare pedicured feet into the warm water, wiggling her red painted toes.

“Wait.” Effie immediately positions her undivided attention onto the male next to her being. “I think I saw something moving.” A splash is heard as she snatches her feet out of the water frantically.

“What? Where?”

Laughter passes his throat, tossing his head backward while she glanced around in confusion. “What’s so funny, Shazza?”

“I was just kidding.” Sending a playful slap to his shoulder, she couldn’t help but to join him. He grasps both of her feet, sitting them on his lap as he began to wash and caress the pair using the pond water.

Silence falls between the pair and Effie found herself scanning the side of his canvas. His cheekbones sat perfectly high. Facial hair trimmed and not too messy. His dreads fell perfectly above his shoulders. “If this is your spot… why’d you bring me here? This should be your own personal, sacred place.” He turns his head to face her. Their eyes immediately connecting. Don’t even get her started on his eyes.

He was the most captivating man she’d ever set her eyes upon.

“You’re right, I didn’t have to bring you here. But I did. Why? Because I wanted you to see what I see.”

“And what’s that?” Their eye contact intensifying by the minute.

“The beauty of nature…” He starts, observing their surroundings passionately. “Not many people appreciate it as they should. Nature provides us with a lot of the resources we need. The air we breathe, the food we eat. You know what I mean, you’re a smart girl.”

Effie remains silent, eyeing his being closely. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of him since he began talking. “Aren’t you?”

She snaps out of her daze, “Huh?” He sends her a look, raising a brow. “Oh yeah, I’m smart. Very smart.” Chuckling nervously, she looks away and onto the pond in front of them. “But yeah… I totally understand what you’re saying. Nature can be a beautiful thing.” Now he couldn’t take his eyes off of her, staring her down intensely.

The glow of the moon began to shine against her deeply melanated skin. His top row of pearly whites embedded into bottom lip at the sight.

“Moments ago, you were complaining about getting dirty.”

“So?” She began to grow defensive.

“I’m just throwing that out there. I just… find it funny.”

“Can I throw something out there while we’re just throwing things around?” Although she was serious, Shazza couldn’t help but to laugh slightly at her choice of words. “Yes, you can.”

“This may sound weird but…” She began. No longer caring, “You give me brain orgasms, y’know like—” He immediately stops what he’s doing to stare in her direction. “You stimulate me mentally… that’s what I, um, meant.” Suddenly, his hands slides from her feet to her exposed bottom legs.

“Do I stimulate you anywhere else, Effie?”

Effie nearly gulps at his inquiry and actions, trying to avoid eye contact but he gently forced her chin in his direction. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” The energy between the couple instantly shifted. It was sexually charged.

It was very obvious that the two possessed sexual tension. They’d only gone as far as kissing for the most part. But during their time together, there was a lot of pent up sexual energy.

The couple began to stare into one another’s irises, not exchanging a word. He’d asked a question he already knew the answer to, Shazza just desired to hear her say it. He noticed she wasn’t too big on expressing her emotions, she bottled up a lot of things… but he was going to change all of that tonight.

He wasn’t going to act upon anything unless she spoke up.

“I asked you a question.” He starts. “I expect you to answer.”

Nibbling on her bottom lip, she boldly replies, “I can show you better than I can tell you.”

“What are you waiting for then?”

His inquiry caught her off guard. Nonetheless, she takes matters into her own hands and climbs onto his lap before connecting their lips into a passionate yet loving union. Just from their kiss, they could tell they wouldn’t just be fucking… they were bound to make love.

Effie’s lips moved along with his smoothly, taking their sweet time. They had all night to do whatever they desired to do to one another. Having sex in an unknown place and in some grass is not exactly what Effie envisioned their first time together would be. But it was happening. Tonight was the night.

Lifting up her waist, Shazza gave her a hand in taking off her lacy underwear. Smirking, he places them into his pocket. “I’ll be keeping these.” Giggling, she helps him get undressed, their lips never tearing apart.

Her flowy dress coming over her head, messing up her hair which was left in its natural state. Shazza helped her embrace her 3c curls so she wore them out more often. No makeup, no clothes, no extra anything, there she was… completely bare and he loved it.

“You’re so perfect.” Her eyes fluttered lovingly in his direction at his compliment as his bare masculine hands caressed her soft back, pushing his love inside earning a loud moan. He called for the most high to not let him come so quick at the sensation she possessed. Wet, tight, and warm. She felt amazing wrapped around him.

Mouth agape, she bounces on him slowly yet still adjusting to his size. He was big. Bigger than she imagined. But he felt so good.

“Oh, Shazza…” His name falls off of her tongue in a high-pitched tone as the curve of his long, thick phallus jabbed at her spot. His lips meeting the crook of her neck to plant sensual kisses. “Fuck…” She curses, her eyebrows furrowing together in bliss, hands tightening around his shoulders.

A plethora of moans escapes her throat, tossing her head backward. The pace of her hips growing increasingly faster. “Oh, shit.” Shazza groans while fucking her from underneath the moaning young woman, head planted in her neck as his hands slid to her backside.

The sounds she produced and the mess she was leaving on his lap nearly left him speechless. He found himself glancing at the sight of where their bodies met, top row of pearly whites digging into his bottom lip. Her love faces were heavenly. The way she rode him into ecstasy was so effortless.

“You’re doing so good, love.” He praises her, her large breasts bouncing in his face. “How are you feeling? Am I making you feel good?” His questions left her whining out a, “…yes..” in between her moans and cries.

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel. Talk to me.” Shazza’s head was no longer buried into the crook of her neck. They were face to face, giving one another lustful looks full of hunger. He wanted her to be vocal so he was going to make her, whether she liked it or not.

Swiftly, he lifts both of her legs and holds the pair around his arms, widening them to go deeper as if he isn’t deep enough. Effie was no longer in control, Shazza took the upper hand. His strokes growing rough yet passionate, he wanted her to feel every vein and every stroke. He wanted her to feel the passion of his love inside her, physically and emotionally.

“Unh, unh, unh,” She moans with each stroke, eyeballs rolling to the back of her head. “Ah, so fucking good, baby. You feel so fucking good inside of me.” Shazza was slightly taken off guard by her dirty talk. “Don’t stop…” He never would’ve imagined the quietest girl at Hillman being so slutty for him.

It turned him on beyond measures.

“Fuck…” Sweat beads trailing upon his captivating canvas. “I won’t.” Amongst finding her spot, he kept pounding into that gumminess. A squeal passes her throat as she tries to hold it but she couldn’t, squirting onto his lap and pelvic area uncontrollably.

“Shazza…” A knowing grin creeps upon his pink lips at the sight, the high-pitched screams of his name meeting his eardrums. “It’s okay. Baby, let it all out. You’re doing so good. Taking me so well. So wet…” The gushiness and the smacking noises of their love making were intensifying. Their eyes connecting yet again, feeling the intensity of their sexcapades. Mouths agape in bliss.

Hearing her scream his name. The consistency of her squirting. The wetness she possessed left him hooked. At this point, they were hooked on each other.

Shazza’s pace quickened and Effie found herself bouncing up and down on top of him, faster than hydraulics just like how their orgasm was approaching. “Wanna feel you come inside of me, please…” She repeated the word ‘please’, indicating how fucked out she was.

Effie was dickmatized, completely drunk off of his dick. Babbling, nearly drooling as she used him as her toy. He allowed her to do so, enjoying this side of her.

She was no longer the quiet, innocent— actually she probably never was. It just took the right person for her open up and lay it all out on the table. Effie did just that. “Gonna cum, oh, yes…” The young woman pants, loving the feeling of her insides being dug in. Shazza watches her, maintaining the same exact pace.

“I want you to come for me, beautiful. Let it all out.” He practically moans as she tightens around his thick phallus, his orgasm approaching. “That’s it. Shit…” They began to caress one another’s back, peering into each other’s low eyes.

“I love you, ah, I love you, Shazza!” She shouts to the top of her lungs, legs shaking while her juices came pouring out of her. “I love you, fuck…” Without warning, the couple released themselves, holding one another tightly. Their bodies shook in unison, riding their highs.

The moon above was their only source of light, faintly shining amongst the couple as silence fell between the two. Both covered in each other’s sweat and Effie’s nectar, neither didn’t mind. None of their surroundings mattered, bringing themselves back to reality.

“I meant it when I said I loved you.” She speaks her truth, rebirthing herself.

These past couple of weeks— more like months were more than just the two hanging out. She was really growing to like him then soon that intense feeling of infatuation transitioned into love. She fell for him and she couldn’t hide it anymore.

Shazza brought her to climax without sex. He had her on edge even when he didn’t touch her. During their time together, she’d grown to realize she was sapiosexual. Despite that, she’d really fallen in love with Shazza.

“I meant it when I said I loved you too.” After his reply, he sends a loving peck to her lips. A bright smile fell upon her canvas, beginning to play with his beautiful dreadlocks and stare in his direction lovingly.

Neither of them moved a muscle due to the couple being much too tired to.

[sorchathered]

He felt wrung out, arms and legs were heavy like lead in the kitchen chair you had him tied to, head lolling back as he let out little soft noises and begged you to let him come. He’d asked for this, he had to keep reminding himself as you drove him further into madness, something about wanting to see how far the mind and body could be pushed to the limit when it came to pleasure and you’d agreed maybe a little to enthusiastically given his current state.

“Garyyy, you ok baby?” your sweet voice rings out into the empty kitchen and it brings him back to reality for a moment. Bleary, lust filled eyes look down at you as he tries to focus, your hand still working him over as you nip at the inside of his thighs, putting your mouth everywhere but where he wants it most.

He whimpers out a response, it feels too good and his head is too foggy to conjure up words, just nods his head as best he can while you continue to torture him.

You take his confirmation as a sign to keep going, bright eyes looking into his as you lean in and suck the tip of his cock between your lips harshly and watch as he bows up out of the chair, hands flexing behind his back in the restraints and sweat glistening down his chest. He’s close, but he did say he wanted to see how far he could be pushed to the edge so you release him with a loud popping noise and he sobs out a ragged cry at the loss.

“Please please please, can’t- I can’t- need” he looks so pretty like this, you almost want to stop and take a picture. Shaggy hair damp with sweat, thighs trembling, pretty pink lips gasping and tears forming around deep green eyes.

“Ok, ok baby you’ve been so good. I’ll give it to you don’t cry sweetheart.” You swipe the tears from his eyes as you stand up and straddle his lap, grasping his length one more time as you sink down on him.

He takes what he needs from you then, and he has to admit later that he may have liked it a little too much. After all, you have to test a hypothesis a few times to compare and contrast the data, it would be remiss to not continue testing the theory, and you couldn’t agree more. Gary Johnson is an enigma to be sure, and you did always enjoy solving puzzles.